![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Sorry to start this whole thing with something heavy, but I don't think I'd be using a site like this otherwise.
For most of the past month I've been dwelling on what some things mean to me. Magic and otherkin at the forefront, ambitions, emotions and the circle I've sailed into surrounding that. I've been playing this game literally for 14 years now, nearly half my life, but I've had some old spirits, so to speak, crop up with an intensity that almost scares me.
I feel like my higher self is trying to tell me something. Either a lesson or a quest, maybe both. For most of the past month it's hijacked my bodily perception. Since Christmas I've been a dragon. That cute little featherfluff in my icon? Hardly seen hide nor hair of her since.
I'm not really sure why, but there's something in that I feel a potent fear in facing. Hands shake and typing becomes a challenge. I need to explain, I view dragons as creatures with truly immense creative power. In my eyes they, we, ARE creative power. Kawa's still in here, waiting for me to finish whatever it is I need to do, but she's stepped back and bowed down. I've been trying to make sense of this awhile now. Why is sie watching me, waiting, trying to console me? Why am I watching, waiting, trying to console myself?
It feels almost like... I'm starting to acknowledge how much power there truly is in my words, my pens, my paintbrushes. And the idea of using it in any truly focus, deliberate way scares me. But it's not just drawing, it's performance.
It's a familiar thing in LaVeyan Satanism. Those faithful believe in neither gods nor devils but perform the ritual anyway for the emotional effect. For the theatrics. They see the power in it. So do I.
Sie playfully, calmly, encourages me to wear hir like a coat. To take up the scales and the horns willingly, bring them to a con, and make people smile, becoming both performer and performance. I want to. I really do, so then what's trying to hold me back... Vanadis? What's really going on here? And why does it feel like impostor syndrome?
...I'm going to find out. I have to. But . . . how?
And how comfortable am I, truly, with people actually calling me Vanadis, even temporarily?
For most of the past month I've been dwelling on what some things mean to me. Magic and otherkin at the forefront, ambitions, emotions and the circle I've sailed into surrounding that. I've been playing this game literally for 14 years now, nearly half my life, but I've had some old spirits, so to speak, crop up with an intensity that almost scares me.
I feel like my higher self is trying to tell me something. Either a lesson or a quest, maybe both. For most of the past month it's hijacked my bodily perception. Since Christmas I've been a dragon. That cute little featherfluff in my icon? Hardly seen hide nor hair of her since.
I'm not really sure why, but there's something in that I feel a potent fear in facing. Hands shake and typing becomes a challenge. I need to explain, I view dragons as creatures with truly immense creative power. In my eyes they, we, ARE creative power. Kawa's still in here, waiting for me to finish whatever it is I need to do, but she's stepped back and bowed down. I've been trying to make sense of this awhile now. Why is sie watching me, waiting, trying to console me? Why am I watching, waiting, trying to console myself?
It feels almost like... I'm starting to acknowledge how much power there truly is in my words, my pens, my paintbrushes. And the idea of using it in any truly focus, deliberate way scares me. But it's not just drawing, it's performance.
It's a familiar thing in LaVeyan Satanism. Those faithful believe in neither gods nor devils but perform the ritual anyway for the emotional effect. For the theatrics. They see the power in it. So do I.
Sie playfully, calmly, encourages me to wear hir like a coat. To take up the scales and the horns willingly, bring them to a con, and make people smile, becoming both performer and performance. I want to. I really do, so then what's trying to hold me back... Vanadis? What's really going on here? And why does it feel like impostor syndrome?
...I'm going to find out. I have to. But . . . how?
And how comfortable am I, truly, with people actually calling me Vanadis, even temporarily?
