When the gods have something to say, their idea of subtle tends to read to a human as OW THAT WAS MY HEAD! The other night, they cracked my skull open like a coconut. (I will note that A. I’m allergic to coconut and B. when I lived in the VI, the standard tool for street vendors to split open a coconut was a machete.)
I had a message from Aengus Og, to deliver to a friend. Opening my head to him, though, meant I was open. And all the gods I work with converged on a tiny fixed point, and that point was in my brain. In a mind-splitting moment of epiphany, I realized that the work my gods send me out to do (quilts for sick and underprivileged infants for Brighid, the social justice work on which she and the Morrigan double-team my sorry butt, the animal rescue work that is Brighid and Manannan, the tech work that Lugh blesses, the outreach to other survivors of abuse that is Aengus’s work, all of it) is ALL THE SAME WORK.
My friend Kiya had mentioned in chat the same day that her method for understanding the nature of a god is to take all of that god’s known symbols and distill them into how they’re the same thing, and that thing is the essence of that god. In that moment, I got a glimpse of how all my work is the same, and I saw the essence of what I’m charged to do. I contract out to other gods, but I am owned by Brighid. I am the tool of a tradeswoman, and my job in this world is to build up and to fix. I have one job, and now I’ve got a fairly clear look at what it is. Epiphanies hurt, but there’s a breaking that’s healthy in the long term. Like a bone that’s healed incorrectly, our heads are broken so they’ll grow back healthier and stronger.