Cernunnos in the springtime

Since Spring has come, I’ve felt a slightly different presence around my Home. The fact that it felt like Cernunnos immediately sounded the alarm in my Head; I am so used to His absence that, when there is presence, I feel it immediately. But this is different – and, at the same time, truly the same in every way.

This Cernunnos is slightly younger: brown-gold hair, a charming broad smile, forest green eyes – that bright rich color that leaves show off when the afternoon rays hit them. He’s a young King of the Forest, full of laughter and jokes. He comes bounding up like a young, proud colt, and for a moment I’m frozen because I can’t logically understand that it’s Him.

Miss Me? I can’t help but laugh at Him; in all of His radiance, mischief plays about in the corners of His smile. If I ever had any doubt in my mind that Cernunnos was King of the Fae, it’s gone.

“Yes… and no,” I chuckled. In all honesty I had become used to the Dark King – the god I married had been serious, the god of whipping and cruel absence and blood and Winter and the Hunt. (To His credit, though, the days before and after were actually very sweet). He was terrifying, showing great majesty in that maddening power He exuded under His black pelts. (I found this post and this post on my old blog; they’re the closest I’ve come so far to depictions of Him in this way).

I told Him all this, laughing that just as I was getting used to having Him around, He changed out of the blue. In a way, I was already mourning the Dark King. I had gotten used to Him, had been getting better at accustoming myself to the idea that what we had was perfectly fine, and that He comes and goes as He pleases.

Well, get used to it, He smiled. Winter’s gone.

This Cernunnos was the one who asked me to marry Him. This Cernunnos is the sunlight in the meadows, the crowning glory of the Forest. This Cernunnos wades in all places, is the last ray of light shining through the spiderwebs in the impenetrable parts of forest. This Cernunnos weaves spring into every flower, speaks to bees and races with the hawks. This Cernunnos is the young stag fresh with responsibilities, full of enchantment and energy – and, yet, He is older than all of the rest, for He has done this since the birth of time. This Cernunnos is the gleeful Robin Hood tearing through the Sherwood, bags of gold coins rustling in his hands as he once again foils the Sheriff of Nottingham.

And His magic is strong, crackling and circling in a way that perhaps I had not felt before. It spits at me like frying oil jumping from the pan, burning my skin and scalding me.

I saw Him when I was Seering, on a vision-hunt through meadows and marshland. There was gold in the light that nuzzled the bark of trees; songs and hymns in the wind; dancing in the leaves and stalks unabashed and free. He laughed at the taken-aback expression on my face, holding me and grinning. I felt like an animal, soaring with the energy to run, like a young doe that just wanted to play-fight and race and butt my head against His neck. I wanted to be a trouble-maker, to pull pranks on Mother, to spend nights star-watching in the flower beds and have Him teach me each star as we tangled up in each other.

“It’s just fantasy,” I confessed with a sheepish smile. Maybe this was just in my head, the vision-hunting I do. No matter how many times it is proven otherwise, I still return to the root of discernment. But His next words shattered the reins in my hands:

It never is. 

He’s back.

EDIT: Thanks to my Sister, Julie, for posting a photo closest to what He looks like to us. Apparently, He’s been showing up like this, too! The only difference for me would be that He’s clean-shaven.




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