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I am a semi-reconstructionist, multi-faith pagan. That means that I honor several groups of gods, each more or less within the parameters of their own custom. Those several groups of gods include (in order of appearance) the Greek gods, the heathen gods, and the Egyptian gods. I honor the heathen gods with my kindred, while the rest is wholly a solitary practice.

There's another group (I won't call them a pantheon because they really aren't) of gods, though, with whom I have a more complex, less definable relationship. I'm a little hesitant to use the word "relationship" because that seems to imply a constancy and consistency that is not there, but I think it's a broad enough term by definition that it applies.

Many years ago, my spiritual group decided to split the year between the Celtic and the heathen gods to reflect the current focus of group members. It's not an uncommon thing among mixed groups, solar festivals done with the Norse gods, fire festivals done with the Celtic ones. After a while, it became pretty obvious to all that, apart from Brigid, most of the Celtic deities were simply "not all that into us" while the heathen gods were readily and clearly present. We subsequently became solely a heathen group, which has worked well for roughly the last decade and a half.

In the mean time, I have continued to honor the Greek gods, and later the Egyptian deities, as an individual. The last gods I expected to hear from, ever, were the Celts.

So you can imagine my surprise when, not all that long ago, I started to find my attention drawn in that direction. Pretty soon I found myself writing prayers to them--first to the Irish gods, then the Welsh, and finally and most extensively to the gods of old Gaul and Britain, the gods we know so little about, whose tales are long gone, whose names are dug up from the dirt by archaeologists every so often. I'll admit that I have never been immune to obsessive fascinations, but this was a new level of all-encompassing, and I wrote and wrote and wrote for months, and in spite of the dearth of research material it was fast and fierce and the inspiration was steady. It was simply like nothing I'd ever encountered.

And then when it was done and I had written it all down and made it as available as I could, that was all. For a while I maintained a practice of saying the prayers, but then there was a point where that was no longer...I don't know, no longer a thing I was to do.

And apart from the prayer I say each day to Brigid (and not one of my own composition), that is where that relationship stands these days, and I am fine with that. I sometimes think of it as "work for hire" where I was paid in inspiration (and believe me, inspiration is excellent pay!). More often, I think of it as representative of the fluidity of the god-to-mortal relationship.
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