a hobo's song

I noticed over the past few years, that I had fallen out of contact with the deities that had once called me in my 20’s. At summer festivals under broiling heat, I had thrown myself into honoring Celtic or Norse deities with my Druid group, pouring out mimosas or passing the horn of mead in their honor. It was all well and fine to dance a crazy beat together around the bonfire a few times a year, but I realized as I settled down to raising my kids that the Gods had not followed me home. I missed them. Alone in my frenetic daily life, I found my connections with Gods from faraway lands with exotic names falling away beneath the routine of Tae Kwon Do uniforms to wash, and on-going lunch bags to pack.

I found a copy of “American Gods” by Neil Gaiman one afternoon at the library, and the clever, surreal tale really sparked something in me. Gaiman winds his way through a wonderful story that asks who are the American Gods? Ultimately, he decides they are a hodge-podge of old Gods and spirits brought over by immigrants from the old lands, and a new, sinister group of nameless tech Gods prowling around in their limos. Gaiman didn’t name these modern Gods keeping them vague and shadowy, but I wanted more. Who were they? What were their names? Did they have to be scary? My imagination was on fire.

This is a very enjoyable read, courtesy of WitchVox. Some of us, back when I was more active, often discussed just this sort of thing. I knew of Squat, and Caffeina, of course, but I really like the author’s adoption of concepts introduced by Gaiman, and her reasoning why.

via Witchvox Article.

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