Gods are What we Make of Them

The principle of mentalism says that the all is mind. Therefore, our individual consciousness is a fragment of the consciousness of God. I am a divine being, but I am well aware that I have limited myself so as to experience myself, as have all my fellow creatures. Oneness sounds great, until you remember that in the beginning, God was one, and God was alone. This is why we are here.

Our consciousness is God’s consciousness, limited, fragmented, but potentially can be made whole, though not by any one individual, and certainly not in one lifetime. This is why words are holy. Why stories and myths and poetry and even, gasp, modern cinema and tv and music are holy. They are the words of Gods. Fragmented, they are incomplete and short sighted. But joined, they paint a vast, clear, incomprehensible picture. 

We who are aware of ourselves as Gods, are as Aset (Isis) gathering the fragments of Asar (Osiris) that Set (Seth) has cut apart. Tehuti (Thoth) is ever our guide in the form of words and expression. We seek truth and beauty in the works of the human mind and nature.  We weave the common threads together to fill the holes in our own tapestry of truth, the art of the spirit. We find the threads that are less common, harder to articulate, spoken only by hidden prophets, common people who aren’t so common. And we have our own revelations. Incarnation separates us, encasing us in a “flesh prison,” but the art of story gives us glimpses past our walls.

We, as witches, commonly have a thirst for knowledge that is unquenchable, and this is why. The all is mind, thus thought and knowledge is the path to God. We seek truth from many Gods, many books, many practices, and many stories, ancient and new. The myths survive, and they always will, though their forms will surely change. I see it in so many places, the seeds being sown for a new generation of seekers. Interest being revived in the magical, in nature, in the old Gods (who were once new Gods), in our own potential, good and evil.

We are not satisfied with one book, one story of God, and one purpose. We are many, and the Gods are what we make of them. And in our poems, rituals, songs, dances, offerings, paintings, books, and movies, as we craft the Gods, we also find them. The charge of the Goddess says it well. “And thou who thinkest to seek for me, know thy seeking and yearning shall avail thee not, unless thou know this mystery: that if that which thou seekest thou findest not within thee, thou wilt never find it without thee. For behold, I have been with thee from the beginning; and I am that which is attained at the end of desire.”

I quoted American Gods at the top of my blog because the idea of the Gods being created by our belief both resonated with me and disturbed me. I did not want to believe that the Gods needed us in order to exist. It seemed demeaning. But now I understand, and I think it was an important lesson for me. The Gods are indeed what we make of them. Without us, they exist still, but as one, all but alone. With us, they experience love and grief, fear and survival, pleasure and guilt, truth and lies. They become so beautifully multifaceted in our lives and minds, both our creators and our created.

This I seek to remember in my craft. As I write I seek to share ideas, hoping to help fill someone’s holes. As I read I seek to fill my own spaces. As I see a fantastic explanation of the chakras in a children’s show, or see yet another creation myth played out in a movie, I gain hope for tomorrow. And as I worship, I remember. The Gods are what we make of them, so I’d better make them Great. 

Ancestor altar

Anpu and my ancestors got offerings of whisky, shisha, incense, and rose oil, with love, as I petitioned for my health, strength, and energy. Nature was kind enough to gift me yesterday with a gardenia blossom for love and purity, and crepe myrtle bark for strength, change, and union. They called to me to offer their aid, and I am grateful.


Had a lovely meditation with Heru yesterday evening after giving offerings. I don’t have all the words to describe what he had to show me, but it was all about love, offerings, and relationship. The offerings, and the love they are shared with, are what makes the statue no longer just a statue, the altar no longer just an altar. I poured chocolate raspberry tea in the chalice, and blew shisha smoke into it to create this lovely dramatic steaming brew and offered it. I stroked the statues with oil and water and put tea on their lips. I filled the altars surface with shisha smoke until it glowed otherworldly in the candlelight. I lit incense and placed the flaming sticks in front of my gods, so I could imagine them inhaling the flame as it went down to a smoky smoulder. I poured tea and blew smoke over my pentacle, and as I rang the bell over it, I willed my offerings to create something larger and more sustaining, a temple where tea and fragrant smoke never run out. I gave this to them, in love, and in return received a strengthening of feeling of Presence. This act, this physical, tangible ritual of giving, made the spirits and gods themselves more tangible in my mind. I treated the statues like real, living beings. I didn’t simply place the offerings on the altar and say a few words and walk away. There was fantasy involved, imagination that took hold until it became real. That is a real way of working with the gods and spirits. Our belief strengthens them and our connection to them. So be dramatic. Light all the candles and smoke up the room and enjoy wine and smoke with them and be sensual! Touch the statues and clothe them and care for them as you would if they were real, and they will be. Allies are power. And they are earned.