The Musings of a Priestess

[Dovesong]

On Redemption

Redemption. What does it mean?

To a Banite, it means returning to Fear. To Tyranny.

To a Lolthite, it means returning to Chaos. To Harm.

What does it mean to us? To Eilistraee, or to tel'Quessir?

What does it mean to me?

I think it is simple, to me. Perhaps, to Us.

Joy. Peace. Finding something that makes you happy, truly happy, and making it your own. When one has lived under evil, it can be easy to forget the lightness of being that comes with good. How the soul sings when you see your actions make something better for another. The music of the heart when another succeeds.

Is this, then, part of why so many find it hard to desire redemption? For, after all, it must be desired. A flock of priestesses cannot force redemption, even on a weak person. The person must seek it out.

I think it a frightening thing. And I think we often forget that part. One must lay oneself bare, vulnerable, when such has theretofore been all but a promise of death...or worse.

Should one of Ilythiir do this before the Yathrin? Death would be a release, not the climax of punishment. Is it any surprise, then, that they should be so reluctant? As long-lived as we, they are taught from birth...(Perhaps before?) That we are evil. We will kill them. They are made and molded to revel in chaos, in pain, in death.

They are not made thus. Not even Araushnee-who-was can manage that. Even she cannot weave the very fabric of Us. No, they are taught thus. Any Ilythiiri babe laughs as a Quessir babe does. Cries for its mother. Hungers for milk, for touch, for gentle words. But ever, we must remember, these poor souls are denied even that. Sometimes for centuries before we meet, before they know there even is a choice that can be made.

When we, then, are able to offer the choice, we must be ready for refusal. We must be ready for suspicion. We must be ready to persevere, regardless. There are times the choice will never fall the way we want, but we must try. Not for us. Another's redemption is never for us. It is for the one whose future, and often very soul, hangs in the balance.

Maiden, we ask Your patience. Your stubbornness. The strength You grace us, that we may persevere. If we help even one to salvation, we have done Your work.

[Dovesong]

On Love

What is love? When we mention love, a great many people immediately think of passion, or lust. But love is something else entirely.

Yes, the flashfire of ecstasy, of desire, of needing to be together is love.

Holding your wife's hand after decades, or centuries, as she passes from this life to the next, the memories of long nights, short nights, angry fights resolved, hugs to soothe hurts, the laughter of children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren. The memories of a life spent with a friend, one who truly knows you as well as, or better than, you know yourself? That is also love.

Tucking a child in. Watching the soft curve of cheek-chub and the dark flush of lashes. Does a being ever look quite so angelic as a sleeping child? That is love.

A friend, knowing they can run to you with a broken heart, and find support? Who will be there the moment something irks you? That is love.

That same friend and you butting heads over something that is not good for one of you but they will NOT listen? Still love.

Love has so many forms. It is all-encompassing. It has room for everyone.

Our greatest calling, as devout of the Maiden, is to love. Totally, and unreservedly. Only love can shine the light of warmth into souls groomed to darkness before they even knew what darkness was. Only love can let us see, empathize with, and want to cure, their pain.

I am so lucky, to love so many. Friends, family, lover. I am so lucky to be loved by so many. I must never forget this blessing She has bestowed upon me. Through our love is my strength. Through our love is the strength that may bring another to know love, and feel it themselves.

Maiden, let me remember Your love. The love that bore you through so many millennia of pain. Let me remember Your love, that so frightened the Spider Queen that she was forced to bow and curse her own. Let me remember Your love, that tens of thousands of years ago, you knew that I would need you. And let me remember Your love, the song of songs, that calls to me every moonrise. It is with Your love that I am whole.

[Dovesong]

On Loss

It occurs to me, only in the last few weeks, how very privileged I have been. I have never known loss. Not truly.

Not the irrevocable loss of death. Not the sundering of two who still love deeply.

When we lose someone we love, we mourn. We grieve. It is true that this grief is often selfish. We miss them, of course. We pine for what could have, might have been. We mourn seeing them happy. But more, we miss the part of our life that they represented. And the joy they brought us. This is normal, I think. We are mortals, not selfless gods.

Elora, I think, even now sits at the Father's side. I felt the joy of her Realization of Him, and it was so overwhelming I nearly lost my ability to stand. I wish I could show Ais, show Farris. Let them feel a joy that even I have no words for. It would soothe them. But I cannot share her joy, even this faint phantom of what she truly now feels.

In the same breath, walking away from Kelmyar is the hardest thing I have ever done. If I love him, I must let him live. I must let him do as he needs, wants to do. His right to determine his life's path is sacrosanct. But some part of me is gone, with him. Forever with him. I shall pray, each moonrise, that She find him, sing some peace into his tormented heart, as he did into mine. I am not sure, even now, if he understood how dear he was to me, despite our differences. Vae said he was, and I trust Vae. So I will choose to believe he did. One day, we may again rejoice in quiet togetherness. We may not. But part of me will always be tucked away, with him. In case he needs me.

Both kinds of loss are mourned. The grief we feel is valid, and handled right, can be a part of healing. I learned much from all three friends, loved ones, beloved ones, I have lost this moon-cycle. In remembering those lessons, is some part of them not still with me? Do I not have sweet memories, of Elora's welcoming arms, of Javi's mischief and laugh, of Kelmyar in the dark of night, quiet and warm and there with me?

I do. And as some of me is where my Hunter walks, some of them are here. With their friend, their love, their Priestess. I carry bits of them. And I do so, honoured to have been a part of their Song.

Maiden, Song of my soul, while none dear to me were of Your folk, I know that all of goodly heart are dear to You. Sing Elora peace. Sing Javi joy. In the darkest nights, Sing Kelmyar love. Do all for them I coukd not. And Sing me comfort. My heart is bruised and in sore need, that Your grace can soothe.

[Dovesong]

On Apologizing, and Self-Reflection

There are many times in our lives, all of them, that we will misstep. We will err. We will misinterpret words meant kindly as attacks, either due to phrasing, or our own inherent distrust or misunderstanding. We are but mortal. Our understandings are limited, and biased.

I have been doing much of this. I have spent a cycle of the moon now at Her altar. Thinking, singing, and praying. Dancing as Her spirit moved me, offering blood that she may replace it with Her love and kindness.

I have behaved badly to people who love me. People who, in truth, even when we disagree, or row, I love in return. And now, the road of redemption is at last mine to walk. Is it so bad as turning from Lolth? No, of course not. But I must fundamentally change what I see, and how I take it. No one can but me, and it must happen for my balance to return.

And, more? I owe it to those I have wronged, even when I did not realize, or I thought it was right to do so. I owe it to a people who have loved me, protected me, saved me when I was at risk, and championed me when I was alone.

I could, I'm sure, blame it on youthful fire, or kneejerk reactions, but I shall not. I shall blame it on what it is - I made a mistake, and I reacted poorly. Now, it is time for me to stop and think, before I speak. Remember who I speak to, and what their motivations truly could be, before I defensively assume the worst of people who have never shown me the worst.

Only then can I be forgiven. By them, by Her, and most importantly, by myself.

Maiden, grant me grace. Grace with others. Grace with myself, and my foibles. The grace to know when I have erred, and how I might repent. Grant me the grace to look challenges in the face without resorting to fear or anger, for Your grace is enough for all of us.