Why Freya Makes Me Cry

I started out writing a post explaining the love notes, but ended up writing the “why she makes me cry” post. It is what it is….

I “check in” with Freya every day–kind of like I check my email–to see if She has any words of inspiration to pass on. I do it because it’s part of my commitment to Her, to write these love notes and post them for people. It’s not because I’m particularly holy or special; I just do it because I promised that I would.

It’s not that simple, though. I’m very sensitive–physically, emotionally, pretty much in every way–and I can get overwhelmed quickly, so normally I keep my emotions and ability to sense things tightly locked down. In order to hear Her, however, I need to open these senses back up. What I usually get when I open up my shields is a feeling; an image; and anywhere between one word/or concept and a full sentence or two. Sometimes it’s easy–I just think of Her, look at Her statue, and Bam! message received. Sometimes I get just the barest thread of a message and have to go digging for it, which ends up being a big drain on my time and energy. Sometimes I get nothing–nada–no matter what I do; and I’m not always sure if it’s because I’m too emotionally or spiritually exhausted that day, or if She just doesn’t have anything to say. Regardless of what I need to do to get the message from Her, more often than not I get punched in the gut with some kind overwhelming emotion, either good or bad. I really can’t prepare for this because I never know what I’m going to get.

Freya is a goddess of many kinds of ecstasy, and She often sends Her messages in the form of intense, raw emotion. When I think of connecting with Her, I’m reminded by a quote from Wolverine (from The Wolverine, iirc ). Someone had asked him if it hurt when he extended his claws; grimacing, he responded that it hurt every single time. The implication being that despite the fact that he’s done this hundreds of times, and willingly continues to do this every time it is needed, he till feels that same pain. Each time.

That’s a good description of how I feel when I connect with her. Sometimes when I check in, that pain is a minor irritation, easily shrugged off. Often, though, it’s big enough to mess with my moods, so if I’m feeling low energy, sad, tired, or semi-moody to begin with, it’ll probably knock me deeper into whatever unhappy emotion I’m in. And every once in a while, if I’m in a bad mood, connecting with her will elevate me right into spiritual and emotional ecstasy, like ice sublimating directly into gas without becoming a liquid in between. I do not pass Go; I do not collect my $200. And though ecstasy is usually seen a good thing, I’m still left feeling unbalanced and a tad nauseous, because, strange though it may sound, sometimes I’m just not in the mood to experience that kind of ecstasy without any warning or foreplay.

It’s one of many reasons I put off working for her on an official level for so long, and it’s with a mix of both excitement and trepidation that I open up to her each day.

That’s one of the ways Freya makes me cry.

Connecting with Her also makes me more aware of how much love and beauty there is in the world. Songs make me cry, even happy ones; especially happy ones, sometimes. I see a gorgeously vivid nasturtium vine crawling up a telephone pole, and my heart skips a beat. I see a kid help out an elderly lady and my heart leaps with joy, and I cry. I catch a glimpse from the highway of the local hills shrouded in mist, and I tear up. I hear on the news that some athlete was traded back to a team in his hometown, and I cry just imagining how happy he and his family will be to have him back home, representing his neighborhood. I see a man walking by wearing a perfectly tailored suit, and I have to emotionally and physically restrain myself from running up to him and gushing about how amazing he looks. I come across anything to do with being welcomed into a group or being welcomed home, and I straight out bawl.

You get the picture. It’s ridiculous.

I have a very sensitive heart, though some I know may deny it. I haven’t yet figured out how to live with my heart this open.  It’s literally like I’m the Fisher King–I have a huge wound directly over my heart that will not close, will never close, no matter what I do. It’s like having shingles of the heart. (If you’ve ever had shingles, you’ll know that if anything touches the affected area, the pain runs directly through your nerve endings. It’s a perfectly pin-pointed pain that you’re unable to dull or avoid.) And I’ve tried quite a wide variety of things to dull that pain. As with Wolverine, no matter what I do, that pain is still there. Unfortunately, I’m pretty sure that’s the way She wants it.

She also makes me cry by the fact that, in this real, mundane world with its pesky rules and details, I have to say No to my heart so often. I can fall in love with anything–and I do mean anything, person, place, or thing–given enough time and the right motivation. A lot of my time is spent with me telling my heart, “No, you’re not actually in love with that (dress, cashier, light glinting off of a cigarette wrapper littering the street). Yes, I realize that he/she/it is beautiful and amazing and somebody really needs to make them and the world understand exactly how wonderful they are, but just because we admire something and see the beauty in it doesn’t mean that we have the right to own, interact with, or otherwise bother him/her/it. And probably it isn’t that healthy for us to attempt to do so; we’ve learned this many times before. No, really. Drop it.”

The trade off, of course, is that I get to see so much beauty in the world. So much beauty. It’s an embarrassment of riches that I am given freely, constantly, every day. I get hit with 5-10 doses of beauty just driving to work in the morning. Even in my worst moods or depressions, I still see it. And I when I find the courage, energy, and the right time, I get to share this point of view with people and lighten their day. I can inspire others to be their higher selves; I can set a space of trust, acceptance, honesty, and intimacy; I can help others re-find the beauty and love that they have in themselves. The way I see the world is beautiful, and so many people are absolutely desperate to experience that touch of beauty themselves. (And then I want to cry because I’ve helped them feel it; there’s just no winning. Or, perhaps, no losing?)

Like many other people who work with deities of love and beauty, I’m not entirely sure that I had a choice in the matter. The seeds for all of this were installed in me before I even left the womb, and not feeling this intensity of emotion and beauty is something that I worked hard at for years. I can guarantee to you that I fought this thing tooth and nail. I was a tomboy; I thought wearing make up, doing my hair, and dressing up was superficial crap imposed on us by magazines and Hallmark cards. I hated flirting and making small talk. And really, who had the time for it? It’s not like in the grand scheme of things this kind of frivolity was actually that important.

I made strides slowly. For example, I finally gave myself the permission to plant flowers as well as vegetables, to wear pink (which looks amazing on me, by the way), to pamper myself and feel feminine. It took even longer for me to accept that maybe I too was intrinsically beautiful and worthy of love and attention, and that it was okay to acknowledge this to myself and other people. Now when I come across people who say, “I’m ugly; there is nothing good about me!” I want to scream at them and force this beauty that I am see all around them directly up in their face so they can’t possibly deny or avoid it. It’s a tad bit of a knee-jerk reaction in the opposite direction, true; and unfortunately it doesn’t have the planned effect, either, so I usually refrain from doing it. But seriously, people! If only you could see the way that She sees you and the rest of the world, you would understand. Sigh.


Looking back on this post, I realize that I probably come across as a crazy woman; that’s how I feel sometimes, certainly. Luckily I have a really good poker face and excellent impulse control (considering), so many of the people whom I know in person are shocked when I mention any of this to them. But yep, that’s how it is for me living with a Goddess of Ecstasy, Love, and Beauty in my head. Sometimes it makes me wish that I was dedicated to a Goddess of Dusting or Pottery or Household Management; something just a bit less dramatic.

5 thoughts on “Why Freya Makes Me Cry

  1. I only just got to read this now.

    And wow, yeah, all of it – I mean, not counting the form of committment where I check in daily for notes to pass on, but the rest? Yes.

    Only I *don’t* walk through the world closed. That option was stripped away from me years ago, if in fact I ever had it.

    So yeah. This. This completely. But you knew that.


  2. Reblogged this on EmberVoices: Listening for the Vanir and commented:
    With the exception of the agreement to check in daily for notes to pass on, this description of life with an open heart in service to Freyja (not just Freyja, but especially Her) is so very much my experience too.
    “Does she laugh or cry for no apparent reason?”
    Yes. I always have and I always will. But now maybe more people will see WHY.

  3. Reblogged this on The Lure of Beauty and commented:
    As a dedicant to the Venusian energies, and the spirits therein- Oshun, Freyja, Aphrodite, etc- my life is very much this way. Asking myself “what’s the most loving or harmonious action I can take?” And not just noticing beauty, but being beautiful- all make for the exquisite beauty of this post.

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