A Wild God

There was recently a blog post partially written about me, but it didn’t name me specifically. However, I really feel it’s important that I am named and I get some credit, because I invited a wild God to the party, and He showed up.

Sometimes a wild god comes to the table.
He is awkward and does not know the ways
Of porcelain, of fork and mustard and silver.
His voice makes vinegar from wine.

When the wild god arrives at the door,
You will probably fear him.
He reminds you of something dark
That you might have dreamt,
Or the secret you do not wish to be shared.

He will not ring the doorbell;
Instead he scrapes with his fingers
Leaving blood on the paintwork,
Though primroses grow
In circles round his feet.

You do not want to let him in.
You are very busy.
It is late, or early, and besides…
You cannot look at him straight
Because he makes you want to cry.

You can find the aforementioned article here. The article talks about a Priestess not really having a plan, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. I had a plan for ecstasy. I had a plan for revelry. I had a plan to call in a wild God with song, and dance, and drum. Wild Gods may come when you beckon them with written liturgy that is read from a book. There are thousands of years of poems and ritual read and recited to call the Gods. But in my experience you are going to have a much better time getting a wild God come to visit when the room rises up to meet their wild energy, when the devotees are hungering for His touch, and when the ecstasy of the ritual will feed not only Him, but each participant of the ritual.

The wild god asks for whiskey.
And you pour a glass for him,
Then a glass for yourself.
Three snakes are beginning to nest in your voicebox.

The wild god reaches into a bag,
Made of moles and nightingale-skin.
He pulls out a two-reed pipe,
Raises an eyebrow,
And all the birds begin to sing.

In most ecstatic traditions a plan for a ritual is an outline for a ritual. The absence of a script, to be rehearsed and memorized, is not the same thing as not having a plan for the ritual. There wasn’t a script to memorize, but the frenzied madness was perfectly planned. The outline is built on trust; trust that the Priestesses holding the roles will fulfill their role. Yes, sometimes this can mean that things go a little sideways, but as with most magick, when things come together in just the right way, the results can be completely fantastic. And that’s what happened at this ritual. The god was invited, seduced to join us. And He came.

The wild god dances with your dog,
You dance with the sparrows.
A white stag pulls up a stool,
And bellows hymns to enchantments,
A pelican leaps from chair to chair.

There is a symphony of howling,
A cacophony of dissent.
The wild god nodes his head and,
You wake on the floor holding a knife,
A bottle and a handful of black fur.

Your cheeks are wet with tears.
Your mouth aches from laughter or shouting.

Ecstatic ritual, especially when done in devotion, can take you out of time and place. Rituals that bring ecstasy through song and movement allow you to clear out your body, shift energy, open your spirit, and step into another world of being. Each time it happens is a gift.

Sometimes a wild god comes to the table.
He is awkward and does not know the ways
Of porcelain, of fork and mustard and silver.
His voice makes vinegar from wine.

And brings the dead to life.

*This blog post contains excerpts from the poem by Tom Hirons called Sometimes a Wild God