What follows here is an experience of unverified personal gnosis, or UPG. It is my personal observation and exploration of my experience of my gods and my relationship to them.
A fox, its eyes bright, a splash of color against the landscape, appears silently beside a forest.
The world serpent opens its eyes, glowing like amber, and begins slowly to turn again in its eternal embrace of the outer boundaries of the world. Its heartbeat thrums deeply like a faraway drum, on the edges of awareness.
A white horse gallops swiftly across a wide field, white birds gliding and soaring in dizzying movement above and beside. The earth gladly feels the pounding of hooves on its surface.
Eyes that have wandered in stillness over the worlds are focusing, the weight of choices impending are felt and considered. None have slumbered, but all seemed silent and still as the worlds broke and bent in agony.
Moments of quiet reflection become havens once more, necessary in the gradually louder song that sings the universe and all its inhabitants.
The great cycle of death and rebirth has not stopped its motion, but its movements have been like a noise muffled and a vision out of focus. Its vibrations are spreading.
A raven floats on the wind and then lands, joined by others. Its eyes are black and deep like wells of eternity. Hawks shriek in the sky, owls stand silently on strong branches, watching, ever watching.
Whispers can be heard in the silence. The great ash tree that holds the worlds shifts and settles, grey-shrouded time blooming slowly into color like a painting making itself.
Everything has changed. Nothing has changed. All is different and still the same.
Even behind the safety of my wards I can feel them; moving, shifting, choosing, considering, preparing, acting. After more than a year, while silence blanketed the world like silver rain, I had almost forgotten what it is like to feel the life force of my gods. Perhaps they also needed to stop. Perhaps they also felt the agony of inaction, grieved along with the pain of millions, waiting because waiting was necessary. Best to wait for the right timing than to act when patience is best.
The gods are part of the weave and weft of the worlds, just as we; this time of heavy painful change is not just ours to bear. We are not the only ones who have cried and hoped and kept one candle burning in the dark.
This great grief of our time has not been like the blink of an eye to those to whom time is a useful construct, but a construct nonetheless. They have sat while the wheel turned day by day, hour by hour, suffused in the suffering of us all. How agonizing it is to watch the choices we make play out.
And now movement, new but old, slow but gaining momentum, comes once again. What does it mean? I cannot yet know. But I am glad for it.