Sgrios Mass: Sexual Divinity

By what metric do I measure the potency of my life? I’m not talking about the unrelenting deochs that count my age, or the health I risk against the spells and blades of my enemies. How is it that I measure the true fervor of my waking days? The mighty warrior would argue that the thrill of battle brings fresh blood to the surface, while the scholar might posit that the miracles that comes from seeking hidden knowledge is the spark’s way of making it’s presence known. While I feel the euphoria in both of these situations, there is not quite such a passion as the fire that burns in my hips when I lay with my lover.

 

This double-moon’s topic of discussion gave me great pause as to how I should approach it. While we are all, for the most part, adults here, I still feel a sense of taboo when discussing issues of sex and sexuality. Should I deliver my sermon through thinly veiled innuendo, dance around it as the fae dance around a rosebush? Should I leave it unaddressed; bury it in shame and talk of it only behind closed doors? Ultimately I have come to the conclusion that an enlightened culture should not be so comfortable talking on matters of death and violence, yet cringe at the mere suggestion of sex.

 

Our innate desires to make love have shaped societies, yet so often it is society that shapes our perception of making love. This is exemplified nowhere more strongly than by looking to our Gods in the octave and assessing the domains over which these Gods rule. It is no surprise that between eight deities that there would be eight dissenting opinions about the role sex should or shouldn’t take in your life, and about whom you might share these moments with.

 

We need not look further than our faithful allies to see two wildly contrasting vantage points. Deoch, the architect of our sparks, maintains an attitude towards sex that is closest to the purity of the time of Danaan. For, before the Mundane settled in with their repressive civilization, the Tuatha De Danaan saw sex as an open and spiritual act that was freely shared among all. Not only did it transcend genders, but it was celebrated in the natural world. When man came to Temuair he put walls into the sexual equation; both figuratively and physically so. Deoch still carries the innocence of love that is so often mislabeled as perversion.

 

Look, now, at the valiant Ceannlaidir -- the hallmark that every strapping young warrior sets himself against. The land is flush with stories of Ceannlaidir’s valor and glory, yet there is no lack of stories detailing his brutal temper and stubborn nature. Where Deoch views sex as an open expression of  joy and love, to the God of War it is a conquest. Should he survive his foe, every man is entitled to have his woman, with very little concern for how that woman might feel about the situation. He was happy to demonstrate this himself when he sought dominion over the octave by attempting to tilt the balance in his favor. Using forbidden alchemy Ceannlaidir drugged and raped the Goddess Glioca in hopes that the resulting child would take up arms against the other gods. I weep for her, often.

 

Since we’ve arrived at this wholesome territory; with what eyes do the Gods of Harmony and Love view sex? The simple answers here are that Cail’s dominion is over fertility, not intercourse. While the natural world thrives off of relentless reproduction, Cail is content to see the fruit without paying mind to the flower, so to speak. With the Goddess of compassion, Glioca, you would expect a more exuberant approach, yet I’m shocked to find a rather conservative sexual history. Because her faith is so inseparably tied to love, Mundane and Aisling alike tend to approach her sect as the definitive word on sex’s role in society. I am, however, rather horrified to see how conservative she paints intimacy. Monogamy, heterosexual supremacy and joyless lovemaking with the intent only for reproduction are all puritanical gifts her church has granted the modern world.

 

Luathas, who typically has much to say about any given subject, has surprisingly little to add to any conversation of sex. Carnal pleasures are, in the eyes of the scholar, a worldly distraction from the noble pursuit of knowledge. Whether through a vow of celibacy or just by lack of tangible opportunity, a Luathian scholar is the least likely to end up sharing a bed with you. In this way, we should exalt Luathas, for it is his scribes which catalog the comings and goings of our modern society that will have a steady and unbiased hand to pass on our history to our descendants. I am happy to praise their chastity, for I have felt the unbridled seduction of books and perhaps unwittingly have succumbed to this fate on extended occasions.

 

The two biggest offenders in terms of sexuality and the octave are Gramail and Fiosachd. On a surface level, you can see how Fiosachd, who treats sex as he would a bottle of fine wine -- something that can be bought or, otherwise, swindled away from another walks as a dangerous predator. His legions of nefarious rogues take to the street, circumventing consent and stealing love as if it were naught but a sack of coins. Not that I’m trying to say that sex is a precious thing to be guarded and doled out as a miserly lord hands out wages to the farmhands, but it should never be taken under threat of violence or force. Sexual intimacy should always be freely given, even when coins are involved.

 

The lord of Law, Gramail, has sought endlessly to hold dominion over our desires. Through his inane rules he has single-handedly done more damage to unfettered Tuathian love than any other God or man. Gramail’s prerogative was not to outlaw sex, but to regulate it. Within his power, there have been laws enacted banning public nudity. Terms used by lovers have been branded as profanity; I cannot even express my sexual identity without fear of legal repercussions. Thanks to Gramail’s conservative agenda, I have seen people oppressed under the weight of their love and passion. Should there be an enemy of sexual expression among the octave, it is surely Gramail.

 

So we have arrived, here, at our dear lord Sgrios. To tally the myriad of things that Sgrios stands for, one would think that sex doesn’t qualify. Because sex is so tied with birth, it often seems that it’d be something reserved for the likes of Cail or Glioca, but to take the timeline of our existence and gauge how much of it is consumed by sexual activity you’ll see that the bar errs closer to the end of the life cycle than the beginning. Ironically, too, you find that since intimacy has been subjugated to the private realms of man, it has transcended from an act partaken under the blue skies of Temuair to something that happens in private during the dark of night. Sgrios, the lord of the evening has quietly become the keeper of your dirty secrets. By following His lead we might re-introduce a bit of chaos to the art of love-making, see the designated order sway and our inner selves quenched on the fountains of physical love.

 

I hope I have not made many of you uncomfortable with today’s topic. As aislings we all have precious needs which are so painfully obvious that they are often overlooked. We, as a culture, spend so much of our time in pursuit of love and sex or whatever mixture of the two the Gods bless us with, yet it never seems appropriate to speak of such things. I often thought that, like the Luathian scholars, I might be suited to toil away in the candle-lit chambers of the library, yet such an existence, for me, would be incomplete. My spark burns brightest when facing it’s mirror.