Spiritual Lycanthropy

Going to discuss something a little more out there than contemplation of myths today.  Part of my increasing interest in the Rokkatru perspective, and in Fenrir in particular, has led me to look into some of the rites associated with the wolf from various cultures.  Naturally, this has led me to a lot of things dealing with the moon cycles and similar wolfish things, but this little gem stood out: Spiritual lycanthropy.

Now, obviously this doesn't mean literally taking on the form of a wolf in a physical sense.  That's just as impossible as any other sort of overt magic, and I'm not of the mind to further any sort of false idea of mysticism (again, you're not throwing fireballs or taking flight without a special effects crew, and you're not turning into a wolf either).  It's the mental and spiritual aspects of this rite that fascinate me.

Without getting into the small details (this isn't a how-to blog, after all), the short of the process is this:

• Seek out the mindset of the wolf.  Attitude, perspective toward others, contemplate the nature of predator/prey, consider pack mentality and hunting instinct.  This is a very important step toward understanding the wolf, and by extension, wolf-gods like Fenrir.
• Physically emulate the wolf.  Posture, movement, and mannerisms apply here.  This is as close to a physical transformation as you're going to get, so take time to get it right.  I'm not advocating going out and hunting as a wolf, because you're a human and don't exactly have the right equipment for it, but still ponder the idea and see how your behavior changes.
• Bring the two together.  This part is where being a solitary practitioner comes in handy, because combining the mental and physical emulations can be uncomfortable in front of others, and that can break the devotion to the rite.  All self-consciousness has to be set aside.  That said, if you've got fellow practitioners who are into the same thing and willing to go through it as a group, that's awesome; it can be a very powerful experience, albeit one that has thus far eluded me.
• Never let the wolf run so free that you forget where and who you are.  You should always be prepared to snap out of it at a moment's notice, as with any normal meditation, if not moreso due to the potentially volatile behavioral changes you may experience.  Self control is the key virtue here.

For obvious reasons, people in rural areas have an advantage here, as they can go outside with relative certainty of not being interrupted.  Inside towns, however, erring toward a lighter version is advisable, just so that you aren't shocked out of the mindset when an inevitable distraction comes.  Either that, or just stay inside.  I've attempted both methods, and for me, being outside is a huge advantage for the mindset.  Prime example of knowing which parts of town are busy at certain hours coming in handy if there ever was one.

I suppose the biggest question lies in what can be gained through this form of meditation.  Personally, I've begun to see a number of benefits ranging from stress management, temper management, slightly heightened senses (smell in particular, albeit only for brief periods of time), and various improvements to my posture and chronic joint pain.  Is it anything that can't be achieved through traditional meditation?  Not hardly, but that isn't really the point.  What you can gain through wolf-meditations is a deeper connection to the wolf spirits that are relevant to you, be it a totem spirit or seeking a bond with a lupine deity.

Granted, there are some out there who would view such a form of meditation as unsettling, particularly the part where you need to really consider predator/prey and instincts of that nature.  Admittedly, it's not for the feint of heart, and it's not for everyone.  Someone who already has boundary issues of that sort shouldn't be connecting with the wolf-spirits to begin with.  If you know who you are and how you relate to others, then you should know that no amount of meditation will change that, even if it is wolf-meditation and involves contemplation of the predator perspective.

What it might give you, however, is insight as to what it is that you really want in life and how to go about getting it.  Predator spirits, and wolves in particular, know all about finding weaknesses, and can help you identify and begin to correct your own.  They have a very critical point of view, and that can be invaluable.  For me, I've been shown that I'm far too passive in pursuing what I want.  Not something that's news to me, but still something that I had to have put in the plainest of ways.  For me, the next challenge is to overcome that habit.

Considering Rokkatru

For many years now, I've practiced a more or less split form of paganism focused on Celtic mythology and Norse legend.  For the most part, I've stuck to the typical gods and goddesses (or rather, the ones who have revealed themselves to me just happened to have been prominent divine figures -- we don't really choose our gods, after all, they choose us), but in the last few years, something has been building and building within me, and a curiosity in a third grouping of divine figures has really taken the forefront, especially in recent months.  I speak of the Rokkr, or Jotnar, depending on how modern you're feeling.

Naturally as with most mythologies, there is a natural force that operates parallel and in opposition to the gods of men.  The Jotnar are precisely that in most depictions, a primordial parallel line to the gods that seem farther removed from humanity and are thus easier to vilify and condemn, and so often become the antagonistic counterpoint to the protagonist divinities (you see the same with the Fomorians in the Irish myths, but I feel less of an immediate connection with them for some reason).  So while Odin and his family (the Aesir) are given the lion's share of the attention and shown largely as heroic figures (along with the Vanir), Loki and his kin are shown as deceptive or destructive.  Granted, much of this is the taint of Christianity on the written record, but that taint is hard to get away from when the original stories were never written down (or were destroyed, as with most records of the druids among the Gauls and Celts).

While I personally enjoy a very deep connection with Odin myself, and one that has guided me in many times of need, I've never been able to truly call myself an "Odinist".  Part of this is due to my divided loyalty to the Celtic traditions and druidry, particularly to the presence and influence of the Morrigan triumvirate in my life (never underestimate the power of a primary goddess who makes herself known so directly, and never question her guidance when given).  A much bigger part, I'm growing to realize, is because I have other divine loyalties to consider as well.  It's not as cut and dry as selecting one god and one goddess, nor should it be, but it's normal to have a chosen patron of each gender as a sort of "go-to" for your generalized will-working and prayer.  The Morrigan has never been in question for me, but Odin always felt more like a "default"; sure, I felt his presence and saw his wisdom for what it was, and I respected his warrior nature as well as his gift for magic, but he always seemed too... obvious, I suppose.

About two and a half years ago, I started to feel a shift in those loyalties.  Given my connection with the Morrigan, it shouldn't have been too surprising, really.  She's not exactly seen as a benevolent and kind goddess, after all.  When your primary divine figure is a war goddess with aspects dealing with death, madness, and fury, and a moniker of the "Phantom Queen", being drawn toward a path less traveled is to be expected.  Even so, it was hard to really prepare myself for what was to come.

It seemed simple enough at first, and I sort of dismissed it as an odd fit.  I had started to hear a howling wolf when I meditated.  After a time, I started to feel as though I had been chained whenever I would hear the howl.  Eventually, Fenris made himself known to me, and imparted some of his wisdom on the true duality of this world.  Nothing is as cut and dry as it seems, and just as the world needs light in order to be enjoyed, it needs darkness for that light to be appreciated.  Without that sense of balance, there is no understanding of why or how things are the way that they are; we're just taking things for granted.

My connection with Fenris grew every bit as rapidly as the wolf of legend.  I started to understand myself a lot better.  In many ways, I was Fenris; I had long since chained down those parts of myself that I found unpleasant and left them to fester and seethe, and that was a mistake.  By ignoring the problems, I had given them power over me and only made them worse when they eventually get out of hand.  There's a lot of wisdom to be gained by truly understanding these things, and the lessons of Fenris are really just the beginning.  This has led to me questioning a lot more in recent months.  As my own practice of will-working has grown, and I have transitioned from the strictly-solitary practitioner that I've been all my life to part of a three-member group, I've explored more options and asked more of my patrons than I had in the past, and all in all, the conventional gods have been found wanting.

Strange as it may seem, the Rokkr/Jotnar have been the most forthcoming when I've called upon them.  Odin was always there, but never gave the resonating appearance that Fenris has, let alone that of Loki.  While I certainly prefer the warrior-ideal presented among the Norse gods, the primal aspect of the Jotnar is undeniably something that fascinates me.  Nature isn't all puppies and kittens.  It's storms, it's unforgiving landscapes, it's predatory animals.  It's raw and it's dangerous just as much as it is delicate and beautiful.  These "darker" gods are no different.  Just because they're not sanitized and humanized doesn't mean they don't have something to teach us.  If anything, we can learn more from them because they haven't been pressed into a familiar mold; it's the differences that we spot most easily, and when they're as glaring as the differences between us and a raging wolf bound by an impossible chain awaiting the end of an era, there's a lot of room for growth.

Paradigm Shift.

There come certain times where one's beliefs are challenged by something that crosses their path.  Whether it's a particularly difficult loss, being confronted by some deeply resonant truth, or just having a curve ball thrown your way, these moments can completely change the way that you approach your immediate future.

I suspect that I have just reached such a crossroads, and have a few directions that I could take, should I so choose.  One rather important symbolic change has already taken place, a sacrifice of sorts to the gods as a sign that I am ready to do what must be done in order to improve my current life, but there are many others that await me.  This small (well, small to most, to me it's absolutely huge and frankly a bit terrifying, even though it was accomplished in a very short and decisive window of time) change is only the beginning, but indeed all journeys start somewhere.

This one started two years ago, unbeknownst to me, when I would cross paths with people who were of like mind and like opinion in regards to the spiritual world and how to best approach it.  At the time, I was with my now ex-fiancee, who would prove to be a massive source of conflict in the future, but I could already see that situation start to fray.  No, this isn't going in the obvious direction.  I would ultimately leave my fiancee behind and strike out on my own, with the help of my dear friends -- my true tuisteachta -- and get in touch with a higher spirituality, one that we all continue to explore and question at each turn to gain a greater understanding.

We have meditated on the gods, on the spirits, and on the nature of energy work, but one undercurrent remained constant for me.  Change must begin somewhere in order to reach my goals.  Well, so be it.  I have made the offering and devoted myself to this new path entirely.  Let's see where it takes me.