Change at the Dark Moon...

I was released from my vows by all four of my gods two days before the Dark Moon.

​As much as we hold that life, spiritual practice, everything, moves in a changing and flowing way, the idea that permanence is good and endings are bad is an idea that too often hides in the back of our thoughts. We find it difficult to imagine—and then adjust to—something that is beautiful and filled with purpose suddenly ending with little warning.

And yet that happens.

Life is filled with so many such happenings.

The idea of permanence being good and desirable is directly connected to the concept of linear progression: a series of steps or phases that occur, one after another, until a final destination is reached. It is easy, intellectually, to agree that such progression does not fit, well, pretty much anything outside of the education system and progressing from one grade to another.

And yet that’s so often how spiritual practice is approached, even if only as an unshakable idea in the back of our minds. We’ll begin a path—and the path will unfold, one step after another, with successive milestones being hit along the way that signify our growth and progress. We buy the books, we practice the spells, we approach the Gods, we gain familiars, we dedicate and become a priest, and then we die, old, happy, and still a priest.

And yet things change. The only things that do not change soon rot, forcing themselves through change regardless of our views on the matter.

I’m rambling rather than getting on with what I set forth to write about.

I was released from my vows by all four of my gods two days before the Dark Moon.

There was no warning, though the signs were surely there. And those signs would surely have been noticed had I sought council with another spiritworker at any point (as I should have). My Ordeal to one of my gods had stalled, I was struggling, and so They paused it. I felt a failure. But nothing I could do could force me to do the thing that was necessary to move through the Ordeal. The desire was there, the skill was there, the knowledge was there—and yet I was too burdened, to weighted down. I could not do what was asked of me.

Over the last year or two, I have been slowly reconnecting with my culture, trying to regain what I had before so many family connections were severed. It was inevitable that I would decide to piece together my ancestors’ pre-Islamic religious practices. At first, I threw myself into ancestor work, connecting with family, finding strength and comfort to deal with the chaos of an ongoing Ordeal through their presence.

And then a new ancestor appeared. Older. So very older. And why do they speak in that growly tone that old spirits do... Why do they look so very much like the shamans who were once central to our lifeways…

We talked. They taught me things, guiding me through my struggles and helping me to get closer to completing the seemingly impossible task my gods had given me. The work felt so much easier with their help, though it wasn’t discernibly different from the guidance given by my gods.

Months would pass. The relationship held solid. I decided to, specifically, research ancient skills and techniques, desiring to piece together this specific practice, through this specific lens, connected to my specific ancestors. Names for practitioners were found. Descriptions of their foci were discovered. Images of tools and descriptions of their use fell into my lap. Images of old gods were uncovered too easily.

And I did that thing you do, when you are a spiritworker and the name of a god is enough for you to call Them forth and talk to Them. And They did that thing gods do where They respond and introduce Themselves in a way that fortifies connections to ancestors, connections to Them.

A few days later my gods, all together, told me I was released from my vows.

I sat in shock.

Their words continued, offering explanations, comfort, and next steps. They explained how my vows had become burdens, keeping me from being able to do the thing They required of me. So They were removing those burdens from me. I was being pushed toward different gods, old gods, ancestral gods. They could find others to do the work They had given me, but there are not quite as many people with my skill set who are able to do this work for those gods. And I would be able to the work for Them. There was additional help available to me that had already proven to be truly helpful.

The other two, the ancient two, were there. Warm and large and brilliant. The One who spoke so strongly to me before spoke strongly again. Comforting. Encouraging.

My Lady spoke, too, the one Who had been with me the longest, the first of my four gods to Whom I had dedicated nearly two decades ago. She would still be here, for now. I was released from my vow, but I could not release Her just yet. And so She would be here to help with this transition.

It has been a week now. I have lost track of how many Tarot cards I have drawn, how many bones I have thrown, how many windows I have stared out of while drinking who knows how many cups of tea.

I had frequently described being a priest for my Lady like that of being a lantern: She is the light that fills me, I serve no purpose without Her. Similarly, I have described being a spiritworker like that of being a jellyfish: the ocean gives the jellyfish shape, the ability to move, the ability to thrive; the Gods are the ocean. I would have expected to crumple if ever my gods had somehow left me. And yet, in being released from my vows, I have found new strength.

I feel more clearheaded. I feel more open. I feel more capable.

The uncertainty, confusion, and intense churning of my insides as I was unable to move in any direction… it’s over. It’s gone. There is no burden now. There is no crushing weight. I can breathe. I can feel again. I can hear my gods and spirits so much stronger again.

So much is gone but I have lost nothing. I have moved closer back to myself, I am more myself now than I have been in years.

And through all of this, the love of my four reverberates softly around me. There was so much love in this release. So much care for my well-being.

I should be filled with grief. Yet how can I grieve when Their love is still so strong?

I have no idea what comes next. My practice is being shaped in new ways, yet so much isn’t really changing at all. My relationships with my spirits remains the same. My relationships with my ancestors remains the same. My work with the community remains the same. There are new gods, but there have always been gods.

---

We don’t often talk about endings with relationships with the Gods. Our focus is too often on the progression of devotion to dedication, devotee to priest. Life exists after priesthood. New potential exists after priesthood. You remain after priesthood.

Perhaps I could have shaped this in a way that was more informative and addresses the lack of public conversation on this topic. But… fuck the content machine. Fuck influencers and social media. Fuck the people who skim through posts like this looking for the bits they can repackage to present themselves as authorities.

So, have a rambly blog post. Remember when I used to do that? Perhaps I’ll start doing that again….