Free Will

Free will is an illusion of Nyx’s children
Apatê and Dolos, Deceit and Trickery
And people love Them so much for this illusion
It allows them to believe that humans are above the Moirai
When not even Zeus is above the Moirai
When Eros is in cahoots with the Moirai
When Nyx is the mother of the Moirai
and They live to please Her
They weave Their tapestry of eternity
for Their beloved mother
We never had any say
We will never have any say
So go about your day
Perform the actions you believe are choices
And remember that it’s all for Her
We do this all because
the beloved daughters of Night
wish nothing more than to delight Their mother
with the beautiful pictures that Tykhe designs
and Klôthô spins threads for
which are measured by Lakhesis
and cut by Atropos
and woven by Heimarmenê
as we are guided by Psykhe
to create this picure
This ever-moving picture
that will end long before They do
for They are deathless,
and our lot is fated short,
and we don’t get to say when it ends,
we don’t get to say when we’ll eat
or drink
or fuck
or piss,
we only think we do,
because She her brood likes it best that way.

About Ruadhán McElroy

Ruadhán has been a traditional Hellenic polytheist for about a decade, and has also maintained devotions to Eros and Apollon most of that time; his status as a devotee of Nyx is more recent. He also paints, makes music, makes jewellery, and writes novels set in the Mod Revival (UK) and Swampie (Oz) subcultures of the 1980s. He also gets a lot of odd little experiences that he jokes will forever render him an insufferable Goth.

Tykhe in my dream, recently

This one is a few days old, but still very clear, which is why I’m leaning more and more toward considering it a vision or a Conversation, rather than just one of Ruadhán’s Weird Dreams™.

She was dressed very modern; knee-length dress/skirt in white, lacey black stockings, black pumps, and a very full and lush all-fur shawl-style wrap/coat (I think it was fox?) in sort of a silvery colour, sunglasses on top of the head, holding hair back. She looked… The best way I can describe Her is “think of how Paris Hilton might look if she were strawberry-blonde and fat” —very chiselled facial features, but with otherwise plump cheeks, a bit of padding on the neck and chin, a sort of plumpness to her fingers, rounded body-shape, thick legs. She had a small child in her arms (Ploutos?), but I don’t remember much about it other than its face was always turned away from me —which is notable, since mortal children adore me, or so I presume, since they’re always staring at me.

I was on an elevator, singing to myself as I often do when I’m even awake and not just in my dreams, and she got on. I didn’t notice her at first, and so kept singing, but abruptly stopped in the middle of line when I saw her there. She speaks to me with a Cheshire sort of accent.

“Oh, continue; your voice is quite lovely.”

“It hasn’t been the same since I started my medication [HRT].”

“But it’s very lovely. You’re our Boy’s aren’t you? Do keep singing, I want to help you.”

…and that’s about where, even after I woke up from it, I don’t really remember the details anymore. I remember maybe two or three more pleas to help me, and that’s pretty much it.

I’m going to try a couple divinations to get an idea of how literally I should take what I remember, but I’m open to second opinions. Feel free to talk to me, just remember that I cannot pay you at the moment, if you want to do a divination.

About Ruadhán McElroy

Ruadhán has been a traditional Hellenic polytheist for about a decade, and has also maintained devotions to Eros and Apollon most of that time; his status as a devotee of Nyx is more recent. He also paints, makes music, makes jewellery, and writes novels set in the Mod Revival (UK) and Swampie (Oz) subcultures of the 1980s. He also gets a lot of odd little experiences that he jokes will forever render him an insufferable Goth.