The Dancer-Between
If I’m going to share more about the Gods I’m learning to honor, there’s an obvious one to start with.
I call That One the Dancer-Between, the Sovereign of Neither Here Nor There.
That One is antlers and flowers and paws and smoke.
That One isn’t masculine, or feminine, or both, and yet thrums with a driving beat of queer sexuality.
That One is found in music and ecstasy, grabbing hold and dancing with you for timeless time and leaving you breathless and on fire and making out with someone you love.
That One is found in the late night inspiration when you know you should be sleeping but instead can’t help but just try dive head on into one more wild idea.
That One is found in the lingering time between sleep and waking on a long morning, when waves of emotion wash between the shores of sensation and dream.
That One doesn’t speak in words, but listens to wordless song, and if I hear words in my mind, I know it’s not That One who is speaking.
That One doesn’t have a name, or an attestation, and when I sought too hard for one, That One pulled away from me for months until I learned how to let go of easy answers.
That One dwells in the liminal spaces, guiding the way to other beings and other experiences, yet is complex enough to easily be someone’s sole focus of devotion.
That One is first-found, first-offered-to, the central figure on my altar, and always there when I look, just at the edge of my vision.
I love That One, have loved That One for years, and still seek every day to know That One better.