Musings of a queer trans dedicant of Gwyn ap Nudd.
- Apples Are My Pumpkin Spice“The apple is our season.” “I don’t understand. My godphone might be acting strange. He must have meant– Oh. Gwyn said a thing that I don’t understand, and that’s okay.” That exchange happened around this time last year. Another: [Scene – a cottage in my mindscape or in Annwn, all dusty from the days when I used to meet another Lord from another faith in that place, and boarded up with memories of trauma I was hiding from. It’s currentlyContinue reading “Apples Are My Pumpkin Spice”
- Gwyn’s Feast Day…is coming right up! Next Tuesday on September 29th, to be exact. This year I’ve been planning a gathering on Zoom, in conjunction with Vyviane Armstrong of Land Sea Sky Travel. The gathering will take place from 10 AM PST / 1 PM EST / 6 PM London to 3 PM PST / 4 PM EST / 11 PM London and will include a couple of devotionals, unstructured time to share poetry or experiences relating to Gwyn, a roundtable discussionContinue reading “Gwyn’s Feast Day”
- When I Was Stolen By Faerie(CW domestic abuse, and alcohol/drinking mention) Or, how the Faery King carried me away from my abusive ex. I took no mortal as my date to the wedding Although my human husband led me on their arm But when I slipped away to sigh Where ocean met the evening sky I met a man with otherworldly charm I held no human in my arms on the dance floor Yet I danced with my Beloved all the same The guests allContinue reading “When I Was Stolen By Faerie”
- One year on this inspired pathI really do have a lot of anniversaries this time of year! One year ago tonight, Gwyn initiated me as His awenydd. I’ve told that story here. I feel a bit emotional today, because my whole world has changed, in ways that are sometimes hard, but ultimately better for me. The day after my initiation, I remember going to a ritual in my local Pagan group, where I told a mentor friend of mine what had happened. She acknowledged theContinue reading “One year on this inspired path”
- When the Preacher Came to SupperWhen the Preacher Came to Supper There’s a farmhouse in Kentucky where the sun was going down In the middle of the fields and woods, ten miles from the nearest town And Pa was chopping firewood, and Ma was baking pie And the oldest girl was in the attic, staring at the winter sky Pondering a poem where she’d heard the crazy screech owl cry. The woods were in her nightmares, full of deer so dark and wild! As aContinue reading “When the Preacher Came to Supper”
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