LokisNet

Welcome to my page dedicated to the Norse god of fire, chaos, mischief, air, water, and truth. Here you will find links to Loki in the lore, events, Lokean inspired craft shops, academia, as well as my own personal Loki related musings!

This site is a safe space. What classifies a safe space? For one there is to be no hate of any kind, this includes, racism, bigotry, sexism, anti-Loki sentiments or anything of the sort. Gatekeepers are not welcomed either. So if you are any of those things, show yourself out. However, if you are an open minded, curious individual interested in learning a bit more about Loki, my creations, or just peruse my musings, welcome!

So, why Loki?

In short, I don’t know. He chose me, I didn’t choose him. But let me back up a bit and tell you the story of how the Norse god made His not so nonchalant grand entrance into my life.

Childhood memories can provide us with fuzzy, sometimes distorted glimpses of our past. There are however a few things I can recall vividly. I will never forget at four years of age when I fell up the stairs carrying a handful of balloons, or when I learned to walk with a shirt pulled over my head in the concrete jungle of Queens New York.

The other memories are when I first saw Loki.

When I was around four I can recall laying in my bed on my back. I held two toys above me and I was playing with them. A “masculine” looking being, deity, person, figure, stepped into my room. He had shoulder length blonde hair, light eyes, and this “aura” around him. One would think I would scream or cry at this appearance of a stranger, but I didn’t. He sat beside me on the edge of my bed and looked down at me. He smiled with adoration and I remember being awestruck. He placed his hand on my belly and that’s all I can recall.

The second memory took place around that time. I was crouching down on the floor of my parent’s living room coloring with a gigantic orange crayon. This crayon was different than the others. It wouldn’t fit inside the crayon box, and I remember feeling frustrated that it never fit into the lines in my coloring book. As I colored, this blonde hair being appeared again. He crouched beside me and watched me color. I knew him, and by the way I spoke to him I believe I had seen him many times since the toys incident.

I don’t know why, but my house in Queens had locks on the outside of the bathroom door. My dad happened to be in the bathroom and my mother was in the kitchen. This imaginary friend of mine said, “why don’t you lock your dad in the bathroom so you can color wherever you please? You can color the rugs and the walls.” I wasn’t sold on the idea at first. And then he said, “it will be funny.”

I was convinced. After all, my imaginary friend was smart, and fun. Why would he steer me wrong? Well I did it, and it wasn’t funny to my parents. To this day I still don’t fall for Loki’s “but it will be funny” suggestions.

When my mother asked me why I would do such a thing I said “because Lopt told me to.” And then I asked , “who is Lopt?” In which she replied (gods rest her soul) “the devil.”

I knew I was in trouble. And so sadly, I never saw Loki again, but He never left.

Fast forward about twenty-five years later I was at random overcome with this strange obsession with Norse mythology, specifically with the stories about Loki. I read about Loki. I drew Loki. I started writing about Loki. I even watched the Marvel movies repeatedly, which I had never liked before.

Meanwhile there He was, waiting, watching, most likely laughing at me. One day I was standing in my den, reading a book about Loki. His kennings were listed and the first one there was Lopt. I dropped the book and almost passed out. All the childhood memories came rushing back. I confirmed with a medium that week that it was Him trying to speak to me. That it was him turning on my light in the middle of the night. It was Him visiting me in dream as a tall red haired being. It was Him tugging my hair and snickering at 3 am.

At first, I was afraid. After all, if all you know is lore, you would be. Who wants a “god killing Ragnarok bringing trickster thief” around them? I said no, no way. But something inside me said yes, give Him a chance. It felt so right, as if what/who I had always been seeking I had finally found. And so one night I lit a candle, and I invited Loki. I made an agreement; six months I will work with you, I am curious.

The six months came and went, and I discovered very quickly, Loki is anything but what I feared. Trickster, sometimes, yes, when He wants my attention. Thief, okay, He does take things on occasion. It’s his darling way of saying hello, or a reminder that He is here. Other than that He has surprised me in every way possible. He brought about much needed change. He challenged me to be authentic and true to myself. He exposed the liars in my life, as well as the lies I was telling myself. He reignited my passion for the arts. He brought me to the runes and to the gods. He has opened my mind in so many ways. I mean who ever thought I would learn how to play the flute or make a gingerbread Viking ship? He has provided comfort in chaos, and chaos when change was needed. He has protected me, guided me, amused me, and loved me more than I could ever imagine. In turn I fell in love. I fell in love with a god misunderstood by many, hated by some. I fell in love with a god who is equally as good at putting me at ease as He is at making me feel comfortable. I fell in love with a god who provides no safety net at times, yet I know He will always catch me.

I fell in love beyond reason, In love as if it were lifetimes of love, and the more searching I do, the more I believe it has been. I fell in love with a god that most days I don’t know how to thank. So this is for you Loki. All of it. The site, the musings, the service, the community, the books, and the poems. I would give my last breath to you if I could.

Hail Loki, trickster, transformer, known, unknown, young, old, many faces, many names, illusions, truths, lies, and all. May You always be hailed!

In His service.

Arielle Lokadóttir