So, what does Loki mean to you? During the past few weeks, I’ve experienced a noticeable increase of people asking me questions about my religion, and about Loki specifically. I both love to be asked, and find it profoundly awkward. I love it, because I love Loki. And as for it being awkward: there are those whose way with words I deeply envy (Elizabeth and Sólveig come to mind), for whenever someone asks me, “Who is Loki for you?”, I end up struggling so, so much.
Perhaps, if I’m so little talented at wording the answer to this question, I should just politely decline to answer it. I have considered that, but in the end, it’s not a viable option. Loki is a God who is constantly maligned either openly or by omission — and that pains me more than I care to admit. In the most real of senses, I have a sacred duty to tend to Loki, and specifically His reputation. And so, for what it is worth, I will always try to answer you if you ask me, “Who is Loki for you”.
Loki… I love Loki deeply, and much of what I have experienced, both spiritually and in terms of very tangible, worldly blessings, came from Him and through Him.
Despite that, I always struggle when asked what He means to me, or even more daunting, who He is. To my heart, He ironically is one of the most honest Gods — brutally honest in fact — but at the same time, He is seriously the biggest rascal that I know personally.
Those who are considering getting involved with Him should come equipped with the courage to ruthlessly self-examine, or else acquire some fast. Don’t get me wrong: it’s not Loki’s business to help you navel-gaze yourself to better self esteem, nor is it His business to make you miserable. He’s honest in that He sees you, and if He decides you must change, then you will.
Loki won’t let you get away with the little lies you tell yourself — to be sure, He is more down with the whole lying thing than quite a number of Gods, but there are those lies that He won’t tolerate: the lies you tell yourself, and the lies you tell Him. (Which, by the way, is generally a terrible idea, seeing as it amounts to you engaging a God on His turf; Loki is not Apollon, so you probably won’t end up minus one skin, but still… you get the idea.). He will smell the fish, and find the wound, and then He’ll stick a knife right in the middle of it until you acknowledge that It Is There.
And it absolutely helps — I would say it is vital — that you help Him, because He will not stop until He’s done, or ever. That is what Loki does. That is what everybody in search of a deeper connection with Him is facing, and it can be a very good thing. He moves stories.
Many people warn against Loki — I do not. For the most part, those people are sensible, decent people. So am I, but I do not warn against Him, because I consider it an absolute blessing to know Him. In spite of this, it’s probably not a good idea to plunge right into something without stopping to consider it, first.
Without doing Him injustice, I can honestly say that Loki plays (with) people. It’s not even an attitude problem. Sure, if you go into it thinking invoking Loki is cool or edgy, or simply to use Him to further your agenda… well, that’s just a trainwreck waiting to happen. Not immediately, but Loki is known to sit back and watch the show, for better or for worse. And here’s the crux: you cannot get clever with Him. He does whatever He wants, no matter what you do, even if you’re completely honest about yourself and your motives: you cannot control Him. No one is exempt from this, either; He played me, too, probably more times than I know.
But I still love Him, not despite of that, but because of what it did to me. Because ultimately, at that level of personal commitment, Loki is not malicious. He can troll with the best of them, and then some, and He probably will.
If you really want to get to know Him, or just say “hello” to Him, invite Him, in other words, let Him be what He is — and He is a God, believe you me — then it is not so unlikely that you’ll really see and know Him in unexpected ways.
I’ve been asked, and still occasionally am, “How can you trust Him? He’s Loki!” — and it is a fact that trust doesn’t come quite so easy. Some people say “I trust Loki to be Loki“, and even more people simply repeat it, but the truth of the matter is: that is about as useful as defining a circle as a circular shape. Not very, in other words. The truth of the matter is, trust is a bit of a struggle (and sometimes, you simply have nothing to lose). Even if you sometimes wonder when the other shoe is going to drop, it’s a struggle that is definitely worth it.
I know Loki as someone homeless, displaced. I know Him as the life of every party, as a brilliant improviser, as a destroyed Being, as a Being who does not belong, as someone who most certainly belongs, as a Lover, as suffering endless torment, as a family man (not so much as a mother, though He is certainly that, too), as a womaniser (and also, in that vein, a maniser), as someone driven by all-consuming fear, and most of all, as someone who sacrifices so, so much.
Loki is all of this and more, if you let Him. And that’s not so easy as it looks. It may be that He doesn’t stand upon ceremony. It may even be that some people misguidedly claim you cannot pray to Him, or worship Him — trust me, you can. And He likes it. — all that may be, but at the end of the day, Loki is demanding.
He gets involved in your business quickly, and in turn will let you see things about Him that leave you utterly floored. He is generous with gifts, and He takes care of His own.
He is full of opposites and in-betweens, and unexpected softness.