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My grandparents had a summer house at lakeside and I spend every summer in my childhood there. The area was mostly meadows, fields and some small pockets of woods, but on the other side of the village there was a large forest. We’d go there sometimes, to forage or just for a walk. I loved this place – the rest of the local landscape was mostly flat, but here glacial features were more prominent, there were hills and slopes, and it made the forest really interesting. I had my favourite spot in there. First, there was a birch groove with nice mossy ground, then clusters of young pine, and then you’ll get to the steep slope, and there, there was a lake. It was always misty, and there was a small, old wooden dock, and I vaguely remember that sometimes there might’ve been a boat. I think I went down onto the dock few times, I have clear memory of standing on it (and in this memory, other people, I assume my family, were there too). I remember this place very well – maybe some details are vague , but the powerful liminal atmosphere was unforgettable. I think it was my first encounter with liminality, at least the one I was in some way aware of. I’ve been there many times, it seems.

When I got older, I would still visit my grandparents there almost every year, because I was very close with them and I loved the place, but there was always something else to do and I think I visited that forest only once in my teens, with friends, and we didn’t venture deep. My grandparents sold the house when I was in my twenties, but half of the land plot belonged to my uncle and mom, and my uncle build himself a smaller summer house there. It took a while, but when it was finally, I made arrangements to stay there for vacation, and it was lovely, but still, I didn’t get to visit the forest. I missed the whole place so much that there was so many spots to visits, and the forest was the furthest, so I didn’t get to go there. Yet, because I have plans to go there again in the future (originally, I hoped to go there for a week or two every summer, but life kept getting in a way).

I really want to go there, tho, because when I started to think about the lake as a grownup, I went to look at maps and satellite images, and there is not, and never was, a lake in that forest. And yet I’ve seen it. I can still see it im my head. It was there. At first, I thought that maybe I remembered it as a lake, but in reality it was just a forest pond, too small to be on the maps, or it dried out. But I’ve seen forest ponds, and that lake was definitely bigger. It was a proper lake. Maybe it exist somewhere else, in a space between spaces. And I think that even if there was a small lake or a pond that’s no longer there, it was definitely liminal place, and a powerful one, since it has such an impact on me. Also, I wonder who was with me on the dock, if anyone. Loki definitely comes to mind (esp that I know they were hanging around me waiting for me to notice for some time, so it’s possible that we had some encounter a way earlier that I remember), but it could’ve also been my grandma? My grandma never called herself a witch, but deep down she was one, a powerful kitchen/hedge witch, wise and grounded. If there was any adult that could have see the lake, or know about it, it was her.

I really need to go back there, and see if I can find it again.

I wanted to share this for a long time, and I think it’s time.

Let’s star with saying that I was always a person drawn to strange and spiritual. I was that weird kid roaming the wild areas around their grandma’s home looking for something magic, Something More. So it felt natural when I started exploring various spiritual ways when I reached my teenage years. I explored buddhism a lot, mainly tibetan schools, and I still hold some buddhist beliefs and mindset, especially about reincarnation and some cosmology (I’d like to write about that, too, but maybe another time). Then I had a longer run with slavic paganism, even tho it never really called to me in personal, spiritual way. I was interested in it as part of the culture and history, tho. It didn’t went well, because I had a misfortune to stumble upon nationalists. It’s not a story about this (tho it’s tied to my abuser, and maybe one day I’ll write about it – I think talking about nationalists trying to appropriate paganism for themselves is important, and my experiences, while several years old, are probably still relevant. But, another time), but it caused a long pause in my spiritual pursuits. While I was recovering, I couldn’t stand even smallest mentions of slavic traditions and religion. My list of triggers regarding that person was pretty long, and in also included anything norse and viking related. It was upsetting, because I was interested in norse stuff earlier, but my reactions were so strong I had to stay away, and it took few years before I was able to engage with it again. This is important, because now I know that certain trickster was hanging around me for longer than I initially thought. I think about it quite often. They had to wait few years before I was even able to think about things that would alert me to their presence, and then wait a bit more for me to feel my way through my messy spiritual landscape, and I really appreciate how patient and gentle they were with me on this part of my journey.

Strangely enough, when I was beginning to explore heathenry in a way of it being possible patch for me, I first looked into working mostly with Freyr. I wasn’t sure why back then, but now it’s obvious. It was basically me, trying to pull out pagan version of “closeted lesbian pick the most gentle and non-toxic man she can find to have a crush on”. Everything I was learning about Freyr was so different from what fascist assholes I encountered before in pagan circles valued as masculine ideal. He was gentle, warm, nurturing, and that’s what pulled me in. I walked around this idea for a while, kinda testing it in my mind. I sensed something that I can only describe as aknowledgement, but no pressure of any kind.

I can’t point to any particular date or time in my life and say that this is exactly when Loki entered the picture, or rather, when I realized they’re there. I think it was gradual. Like when you’re walking in gentle rain, and after a while you lift your head and go “oh. rain”, and you realize it was raining for a while now. I went on for a while with that knowledge, and around this time I stumbled upon some american lokean blogs on tumblr (I wasn’t even looking – I found first blog while reblogging something completely different, and url picked my curiosity). I lurked there for a while, but it was generally very different approach to spirituality from mine. Now I think it might’ve prolonged my “getting there” part, and only after I stepped away for a while, I managed to get my shit together and make some decisions.

Since at that point I had a very strong, close presence in my life, I simply decided one day, when I was planning to go to the woods next morning to take photos, that I’m going to talk with Loki. Despite that spiritual progress, I was still a bit of a mess and while sensing things was always easy, I had a hard time focusing and communicating (it was related to my general trauma after abuse), so going out and meditating seemed like a good way to clear my head. This is why I remember the exact date – I took some really great photos that morning, they’re still my top forest photos, so it’s very easy to go and check the date.

I won’t be sharing every detail, because that’s a bit too personal for me. But I did went to the misty october forest at dawn, took cool photos, went to my favourite liminal place, found a place to sit and meditate, and then I did talk with Loki. It was lovely, like coming home. That’s when I saw them clearly for the first time, and it was beautiful, and to this day, what I saw that day is what I think of when I want to describe Loki – not as certain look, because shapeshifting god can look whatever they like, but the vibe. It was misty autumn morning, and there was a swirl of autumn leaves, constantly shifting in the air, soft sparkles, everything around them in motion, setting that liminal, ever-changing tone to them, but it wasn’t overwhelming, and while they now show up wearing all kind of things, this fun, boho-shamanic-woodland cape with a messy chaotic collar made of various furs, wool, feathers, ribbons, scraps of silk, and adorned with beads, with leaves and twigs stuck in it, long, ginger hair with tiny braids, that’s what describes them so well for me – it’s home, it’s hearth, but it’s wild. That’s a being who made home along humans, but cames from beyond, and you can smell cool wind and wild woods on them along with campfire smoke and honey. The same goes for the rest of the look – they do show up for me looking certain way, it’s not always identical, there are changes, but the vibe, general features are always theirs in a way that I can’t mistake for anything else. There are some features that stays, light eyelashes, warm-toned freckled skin, they’re always a redhead (tho shades vary a bit), and these days they show up wearing my clothes like, 70% of the time. Lots of people see them in green, but they’re mostly in blue, purple, black or pink around me, sometimes yellow (yeah, colours of genderfluid and nonbinary flags. It took few years to crack this egg, but they managed eventually).

So they did show up in that synesthetic display, lovely, wild, their hand outstretched, smiling, all being like ”you’re here, you’re here, finally, hi”, and honestly? Nothing beats this.

I did sense Freyr that day, too – again, gentle presence, and aknowledgement – this time not just of me, but more like... making sure I’m taken care of? That it’s ok that I picked someone else as my main focus? I’m a polytheist and I respect my gods, and that’s what I usually think of when it comes to Freyr.

It took me a while to get accustomed to the presence of a god in my life, and to become comfortable with them. I was being... kinda cautious? I was feeling my way into this relationship slowly, and they never pushed me or my boundaries. It took us a while, but now our relationship is very intimate, I feel good and comfy around them, and that’s one of the best things in my life. It’s going to be ten years this October.

Ljómi wakes up and quickly realizes that the person beside her is definitely no longer a cat, even though the way they’re snuggled next to her is very feline. The bed is warm and feels like the most comfortable place in the world, but the thought of water is persistent, so after a few minutes she pushes her blanket away. She barely moves, when Loki’s arm tighten around her slighty.

“Stay.”

“Chill, I’ll be right back.”

“Yeah, it’s chilly”, they complain, letting go of her.

It’s chilly indeed, so she wraps a scarf over her sleeveless tunic and goes outside to refill the pitcher. She drinks cold water standing next to the spring, watching thick mist slowly dissolving in early morning air. It’s still summer, but the earth smells like autumn already and Ljómi wants to enjoy all small moments of this liminal time.

“Get us some of these cookies you have”, she hears as soon as she steps back inside.

“No way, no eating in my bed.”

“Oh, wasn’t that what you were doing recently, with your druid companion?”. Loki looks at her with a crooked smile, their long hair spilling to the floor as they move their head.

She can’t help but smile back. “Fair, but that’s different”

Loki raises eyebrow.

“No crumbs.”

“Now, that’s fair”, they chuckle.

She gets back into bed and Loki wraps their arms around her the moment she’s there.

“That’s better”, they whisper against her ear.

“So that’s what I am, your personal heater?”

“You’re much more than that, but also yes.”

The rain has stopped near dawn. Slí is tired, but cool air of a cloud forest, filled with scent of blooming rhododendron, and saturated moss under her feet feels so good that she decides to take longer route and stop by cleric’s place.

Small house on a clearing is quiet, only wind chimes hanging from thatched roof can be barely heard when air shifts. Slí takes two jars of honey from her backpack, leaves them on a wooden porch, and turns back to the path. Her circle’s settlement is just over an hour walk from here.

“Good morning, Slí”

Slí turns around among tall fern leaves, slighty startled. This tiny half-elf can be really sneaky sometimes, she thinks, making her way back to the house.

“I thought you were asleep, so I just left you a little something.” She nods to the jars. “cherry blossom.”

“Thanks!” Ljómi sits down on a porch and opens one of the jars immediately, visibly excited.

Slí smiles. Cherry blossom honey is not easy to come by, and she’s pleased to see Ljómi’s reaction. She comes closer to join her on a porch and notices a dark, fuzzy shape on a bed visible behind open door panel. A cat? But then her attention drifts to the way cleric’s purple robe is sliding off her shoulders, and she reaches to tuck a strand of her dark hair behind her ear. Ljómi smiles lightly, puts down a jar and grab Slí’s other hand.

“Now, let me see that arm.” She pushes her cloak back to reveal bandages under the sleeve.

“It’s nothing serious” Slí mutters, but offers no resistance. She’s sure she didn’t show her injury, but healer’s eye is hard to fool. Ljómi unwrap the bandages and examines deep cut, then whispers few words. Slí relaxes, feeling the warmth of a healing spell, and notices that the cat is now awake, pressed to Ljómi’s side and purring loudly. It’s burnt orange, large for a cat, with long limbs and elongated head and eyes that seem to be changing colours. It looks... fey?

“When did you get a cat?” she asks when Ljómi’s finished.

“That’s not a cat.” Ljómi gets up and moves to the door. “Wanna stay? I can make us a coffee.”

Her zakharian robe is now loose, and faint morning sunlight piercing the mist paints her brown skin golden, and Slí just nods her head, breathless. Cat jumps down from the porch, and in midair its form shifts, blurres into shadow that takes vaguely humanoid form before disappearing – but not for Ljómi, who glances in their direction with a crooked smile.

“Oh, I will” she says, then she drops her robe on the floor, and pulls Slí inside.

I was scrolling through my twitter feed earlier today and came across a tweet asking what do we love about star wars and at first I wanted to simpy retweet it with a comment, like you do, but it gotten a little out of hand and I realized that I want to tell a short story, the one from "how fandom helped me" variety.

Many of you probably know that I was abused by my partner in the past, and I talked about how Tolkien fandom and people I've met helped me in early stages of my recovery (and even before I fully realized what happened to me and that there is recovery ahead of me; maybe I should write about that too, but not today). In 2008 one of the friend from my Tolkien circle got into intense star wars phase (it wasn't his introduction into a fandom, he was just having that intense "omg I remebered how much I love it and it's great" phase) and it sparked similar phase in me. Most of my relationship was a time when I have put all my interests on hold, so it was almost like rediscovering something I loved long time ago. I've always been a person with stories in my head, long before I've heard about things like fandom and fanfiction, so this time such story started to appear in my head as well. Back then, I had no idea what this particular story is - it was a bit of self insert because who didn't do this, at times I tinkered around to see if I can make something to write from it, tried to make it less of self insert but eventually I didn't. This story stayed with me for a long time and eventually I've recognized it for what it was: a coping mechanism. After that I started to see in how many ways it helped me get through really dark moments, not only in regards to my relationship but other issues as well. I created safe space for myself to explore and understand things that happened to me, I gave my oc ways to cope and recover I didn't even knew I needed myself and it somehow helped me get better.
This story is still in my head. Some time ago, a friend asked me about it and if I plan to continue writing it (I posted few pages back when I thought of making something out of it). I don't, at least I don't think so. It's not truly interesting as a literary work as it is (especially that it's not, like, written: I just carry it inside of my brain, there are parts that are detailed, other that are not, there is no defined plotline, etc) and making it into one would means making it into something else, and it's very dear to me as it is. But I have made few artworks about it! (basically all my older star wars art are about it, tho physical apperance of my oc changed a bit since then; I want to do more when I have a time. There is also pinterest moodboard for it)

So I guess that's one of the things I love about star wars: that it gave me safe space when I really needed it.

First, few things:

In this post I talk about abuse in relationship, emotional and sexual, there are mention of rape and abuse under the guise of bdsm, so if that can be triggering for someone, I advise them not to read or proceed with caution.

please note that english is my second language, I’ll probably mess up grammar more than once here, I do it regularly (and later look on something I wrote and think ‘what the hell?’) but I feel more comfortable speaking about it in english (and also I have better vocabulary in english; polish, for example, doesn’t differenate between „victim” and „survivor” and it’s important difference for me), so just ignore it (also 100% sure there are some typos I missed, sorry about that)

This post is also 6k words long.

The comments on this entry will be screened, just in case.

( ~read the whole thing~ )

I went again to harvest goldenrod while it's still in bloom, to dye some silk yarn, and I decided to do some exploring too, since new (to me) parts of the forest are so lovely. I went by my usual route through the woods to the field when goldenrod grow, and there were so many spiderwebs, glittering in the sunlight, they looked amazing :)