Courting the Trickster
by Sophie Oberlander
I am
always amused by the reactions I get when it becomes known that I am dedicated
in part to Loki. (I am primarily bound to Odin, but the Old Man seldom evokes
such a strained response.) No other God or Goddess seems to inspire quite the
same degree of discomfort, or in some cases outright hostility, as Odin's blood
brother. It often saddens me to see how Loki is approached for invariably the
methods fall into one of two categories: either he is spoken of in jesting
terms, and His name evoked to allow for expiation of any number of foolish
acts, or He is regarded with suspicion, hostility and no small degree of fear.
But Loki is far more than the sum of lore, and like any Trickster resists such
neat, if derogatory compartmentalization.
The fact that Loki is a trickster is certainly not up for debate. It is His role, nature and function that are often misunderstood. The word 'fool' is often applied to trickster figures such as Loki, though it does not carry quite the same connotation as one might think. In the medieval period, the fool was often the only member of the court who could speak painful truths to the king without facing possible execution. As such, the fool as an archetype is a figure unhindered by societal constraints. He is not a safe or comfortable figure, and He has a disconcerting tendency to alter all rules and mores to fit His own desires. However, one must explore exactly what the ultimate goal of any Trickster's actions is.
While it is true that Loki (or indeed any deity that chooses the role of Trickster) can create a state of extreme discomfort and annoyance, I would posit that if He shows up, there is always a reason for His presence. What may on the surface appear to be totally uncontrolled chaos can then be regarded as coldly calculated strategy, with the Trickster as the vehicle of truth.
Loki is the enemy of entropy and complaisance, and He fights these with a vengeance. He is the enemy of a heart without passion, devoid of devotion. He can be wrenchingly cruel to His children, but in hindsight it is never 'cruelty' but rather the firmness of a parent to an erring child. And therein lies the secret to His motivation (as irritating as that may be to those of us who would choose to believe that we are beholden to no one): He forces us into accepting the full weight of our wyrd, into opening to the myriad ways in which the Gods may inspire us, to actively claiming our own potential and the responsibility that comes with it. He can be a bastard, it's true (and I say this loving Him dearly) but He's a bastard with a purpose.
I won't say that my relationship with Loki has always been easy, but I will admit that it was through Him, more than any other, that I came to define the spiritual journey as a process of falling in love with God. I was very fortunate in the early stages of my growth as both a Heathen and a priest. I started out dedicated to Loki, and over the years it was He who first led me to Odin. I knew the stories, of course, but put little stock in lore. There is a great temptation, especially in reconstructionist religions like Heathenry, to cling to lore, to hold to it as sacred gospel, using it to define and compartmentalize one's spiritual world. The spiritual journey, however cannot and will not be safely delineated in such a fashion (yet another lesson from my beloved Trickster), and when lore alone defines that journey our souls wither in their shells. Many people hold to lore staunchly because they are afraid to hold to God, afraid of the implications of Gods that aren't neat cardboard stereotypes or archetypes but living, loving, passionately manifesting beings. Lore is important only when one knows how to interpret it; otherwise it is a useless crutch and worse-than-useless blockage to the spiritual experience - all the more so when one cannot move beyond its literal interpretation. The Gods cannot be and are not defined by words dead on a page, but reveal Their wisdom to eyes trained in the exploration of the patterns and rhythm of Divine Being and Wyrd.
Having come to this conclusion early on as a result of my own personal experiences with Odin, I was not bound by any preconceptions regarding His brother's nature and was able to allow my relationship with Loki to develop naturally. And develop it most certainly did! Loki shows us that the Gods are real. They are alive, living, passionate and dangerous. Their existence is not bound about by the pages of the Eddas like withered flowers pressed into a book. They have the power to move in our world and in our hearts and bring transformation - whether we are ready for it or not.
Loki has caused me more fear and discomfort than any other God that I have ever honored, called or worked with and I thank Him for it. He has forced me to stretch the boundaries of my understanding to the breaking point and beyond, gently (and sometimes not so gently) pointing out areas where I fall short, especially in my faith, troth and trust. Then in His own inimitable way, He began to teach me. His presence is a constantly palpable thing in my life. Having observed Loki's actions within our own Kindred, I've come to realize that He acts as a catalyst and facilitator of personal growth. And with that growth may come the inevitable growing pains.
The Trickster is not an easy one to face or to accept, and not only because boundaries are irrelevant to Him. He forces us to examine in minute detail our own shadows, egos and facades. He is a powerfully kinetic instrument of truth revealing what is meaningless and unhealthy in a way that is utterly pure, odd though it may be to associate purity with Loki. The inherent difficulty in this is the element of sacrifice integral to His nature. Interestingly enough, for all that the Trickster may challenge us in facing our own masks, that very role of 'trickster' is but a mask that He himself dons. What lies beneath that varies: intense grief and pain, compassion, ecstasy.