In my soul I feel just that terrible pain of loss of God not wanting me — of God not being God — of God not existing. – from Saint Teresa of Calcutta’s journal, 1959
I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m in period of what the Christian mystics refer to as the dark night of the soul. For a monotheist, this turns into a period of what appears to be at the very least atheist leanings, as expressed in the quote above from St Teresa of Calcutta (Love her or leave her). For a polytheist mystic, I guess this is taking on a little bit of a weird turn I didn’t see coming…
I believe in the Gods without a doubt. I even believe in Apollon.
This is where it takes a turn and perhaps get a little weird…
While I believe in Apollon, I’m not exactly sure the God I honor and have been married to for years is Apollon. Seven years later and after a vow renewal, I find myself going “I don’t know who You are.”
This has been playing out for months now. Save for 1 or 2 posts, it’s been playing out almost silently except to a few close, patient friends that I’m entirely too thankful for.
Am I married or divorced from this God? Who is He?
Is this God Apollon? Yes/no.
Is this God Odin? Yes/no.
Is this God Freyr? Yes/no.
Is this God Dionysos? Yes/no.
This God isn’t an archtype, but He is all of these Gods and none of Them at the same time… That’s what He tells me.
This isn’t a case of an awkward attempt at syncretism. This is a God coming forth to step out of the shadows, which has left me feeling all too raw and wobbly. Who the fuck am I to think a God is talking to me? Who the fuck am I to think some newborn/forgotten God is messing with my brain?
Am I sure I’m not simply unstable?
This, my friends, is decidedly a dark night of the soul. I never thought I’d find myself doubting my faith in my own beliefs, nor did I think that it would play out as a space of doubting every part of myself at the same time. This is deeper than an existential crisis. This darkness is something that I feel down to my bones, and I find myself too choked by the grim reality of it all to put into perfect words. This alone frustrates me. I’m never for a lack of written word.
I’m not alone with this God. I know there are others out there who are experiencing Him, who have even experienced this change and shift. I know, because of the delightful moments of getting personal gnosis confirmed. This space where one God ends and Another begins, I’m not the only one who has experienced it. But is He a God I know? Or am I off in the recesses of my own mind working through some liminality issue that I wasn’t completely aware I had? Perhaps looking for synchronicity of experience and finding it simply because I’m looking for it.
It’s been a strange, painful experience. One of the first lessons this God taught me, as Apollon, was to stop doubting myself. Stop doubting His voice. Just say what it was He was telling me, and slowly over the course of a year I discovered that He was using me as a bit of a mouth piece.
This was a decade ago. This was when I started to listen to the information I was getting constantly, because if I didn’t I was in danger of stepping into the void and never coming back if I didn’t get it under control. A marriage of 7 years was had, and I don’t believe it’s over…
But it was with Apollon. Despite what everyone keeps telling me, I’m not sure this God wants to be called Apollon anymore. Not by me, at least. I’m no longer married to Apollon.
Which seems to not only be throwing people off when I say this, but it seems like my own discernment and judgment of the situation is wrong. Do I trust myself, which is what He taught me to do? Or do I listen to literally everyone else I’ve talked to about this?
I say “Apollon left me.”
I hear from others, who I trust hear Him, say, “He would never leave you, and He wants you to understand that.”
And the words that keep falling into my mind, like leaves from a tree, say, “When the Romans took Apollo’s hand, He swallowed a dozen Gods as he moved through the known world. He became Them. They became Him. But that is never truly the case.”
Syncretism is something a lot of people are talking about these days… And here I am, over in my corner, feeling as if I’m on the brink of un-syncretizing Apollon.
He told me a few years ago to go north. Now He tells me to carve Him from the side of the rocks.
Now I’m slowly getting comfortable with the thought that perhaps this is Something new and different to us. I’ve said for years that He is wanting me to build a new tradition for him, a new cult. I glean images and symbols. I find a way to explain something. I doubt. I distrust. I feel like my insides are filled with glass, and I can’t tell if it’s Truth or not.
That’s hard to understand if you’ve not been there. I hear, over and over again, that I should stop worrying about who He is…
As He whispers in my ear Find me. Create me. Birth me, my bride.
Three evenings ago, on the front of a cold spring rain, He returned into my world in the form I’ve known as Apollon. At first it was a mere hint as I was cooking dinner. I felt the vibration in my lumbar spine that I usually feel when He’s trying to get my attention, a place aligned with the solar plexus (or I’ve been told the Gaster in Plato’s work, though I’ve yet to dig into this). As I cleaned up, He started to talk to me. By bedtime, mid-conversation with a friend online, I had to stop to meditate. I wrote a lot of stuff down that He wanted me to understand and spent some time sitting with the visions I was getting.
I’d been so happy, so relieved He was home that I found myself crying. But His return only brought me more questions and no answers…
I’m admittedly terrified of what stands before me. Not the God, but the implications of what I believe my future holds if I’m on the right track. The weight. The responsibility. It was all there before, but for some reason it was easier when He was Apollon. Safer, somehow…
So I have sent out questions to others who are God-touched. Am I on the right path? Can they untangle what I can only describe as a God-knot?
And underneath it all is this alienation, both from Him and others, who both understand and don’t understand at the same time.
This place is ambiguous and uncomfortable, liminal and immense.
My God is ambiguous and uncomfortable, liminal and immense.
I feel moved to talk about it here if only for the hope that someday this journey will help someone else thrown onto this path.
Welcome home, my Love, welcome home… Whoever You are. Welcome home. I’m angry, but I’m sure we’ll get through this eventually together. (I hope.)