Niche

I commented to a friend earlier today that I sometimes wished I had a place where I could talk about the stuff where my religious and spiritual life interacts with my sexuality. (Maybe if I had such a place, I would know how to articulate things, as opposed to getting tangled up in the edges of privacy all the time, not knowing how to talk about what is speakable, leaving me frustrated and mostly just wanting to talk to my liege so I can talk to someone.)

I talk in code, maybe halfheartedly trolling for someone who can unravel the language and share an insight, probably an insight similarly wrapped up in old names out of old myths and fragments of archetypes, something I can take away to my own space and chew on a while. I find bits of old stories that point at what I do, I build my own archetypes so I have someone to represent.

Last weekend I was in a space where I was among people who were working out the roots of sex and life and power, and we talked about that extensively, enthusiastically, what is healthy sex and healthy power and healthy passion and making ourselves proud and healthy and whole. And I murmur kennings, not speaking the names of these gods, knowing Them in whispers. I can think of drawing out a litle god, offering worship and companionship and the appropriate things for such a being, but that is not a story to be told above susurration, if at all.

I know maybe one or two people who walk the same Mystery, or at least a close enough one that they can see what I say and know what I'm talking about. Who kneel at the altar and are transformed, as one person said to me once about a piece of this.

I want to claim the name for what this is, but it is hubris, now, to speak it aloud, to make more than a trembling murmur of it in the safe container of the bedroom. Whether or not this path is shai, right now it is where I am and what I want and the bloody taste of how I love, and it is my work, and I ... have nowhere to talk about it.

(To know, to will, to dare, and to be silent.)