The Advent Season, Heathen style

(This is excerpted from my forthcoming book: Rethinking the holidays: A simple guide to making traditional Heathen holy days make sense for you)

From the Latin adventus, meaning “coming,” this is the Christian build-up to Christmas–a time of preparation and waiting.  However, given all the Pagan traditions the Catholic Church has borrowed, I don’t see why we can’t borrow this one.   For me, the portion of the year from Samhain through Yule is so important that it feels appropriate to emphasize it even more by including more devotional and celebratory days, and these days are linked with local folklore traditions, which are becoming increasingly important in my own practice.  It’s important to remember, too, that many of these days were superimposed upon even older Pagan/Heathen observances—or at least, I believe so, judging by the Pagan symbolism that survives in their customary celebrations and lore.  Many of the saints were superimposed over the images, customs and personalities of Pagan deities, too!

Not all of the Catholic advent days are appropriate or significant for me, of course.  But among the days I mark with at least some type of observance this year are the following:

St. Martin’s Day – November 11^th

This was the first slaughter feast after harvest, and thus could be regarded as the “official” beginning of winter.  Farmers finished their work for the year and left an offering of bread, cheese, wool and flax for “St Martin,” who could be seen riding on a white horse through the sky on the eve of this day.

St. Barbara’s Day – December 4^th

St. Barbara is a rather obscure Christian martyr who was locked up and persecuted by her father for her faith.  Her day is associated with foretelling prosperity and luck in love, and I set it aside as a time to honor Gunnlod.

St. Nicholas’ Day – December 6^th

Sometimes associated with Odin, sometimes with various other Pagan Gods (most notably Poseidon, in Greece), St. Nicholas (a fore-runner of Santa Claus) has many attributes in common with Odin: both have beards, carry a staff (in Odin’s case, a spear), and ride on a white horse.  St. Nicholas has a black servant named Zwarte Piete (Black Peter), while Odin has two black ravens.  On the eve of St. Nicolas’ Day in Germany, Belgium and the Netherlands, children would place their boots, filled with carrots, straw or sugar, near the fireplace for St. Nicholas’ (Odin’s) horse, and He would replace the horse food with gifts of candy.  This evolved over time into the modern Christmas custom of hanging stockings to be filled.

St. Lucy’s Day – December 13^th

Lussinata, or Lussi Night, was in the unreformed Julian calendar the longest night of the year.  The Lussi, a female demon, was believed to ride through the air on this night with her followers, the Lussiferda.  I see in this an obvious parallel with Frau Holle and Her own version of the Wild Hunt, which is believed to be made up on the souls of unbaptized children (although I doubt baptism had anything to do with it; probably any children who died in childhood were eligible).  Between Lussi Night and Yule proper, trolls, evil spirits and the dead were thought to be especially active.  It was especially dangerous to be out on Lussi Night itself, which was also known as the Perchtennacht (blackest night).

In Scandinavia, St. Lucy’s day is still celebrated, and one girl in each town is elected to represent Lucia, and is dressed in white with a red sash and a crown of lit candles (another probably echo of Frau Holle).  She leads a procession of other women dressed in white and carrying candles, a symbolic lighting the way against the darkness of this night.

St. Thomas Day – December 21^st

The astronomical Winter Solstice, and start of the traditional “smudging nights,” during which the home is purified with smoke and herbs to drive away unfriendly spirits.  A very good day to honor Thor, as warder of the Gods.

Yule – December 21st or 22nd through New Year’s Day

For me this is both the peak of the festival year and the height of my spiritual year, a time for intense work with Odin, the dead (which in my case is not just limited to the human dead) and the Wild Hunt.  This is the season when (in Scandinavian tradition) the veil between the worlds is at its thinnest, and the Gods, the dead, and other denizens of the other worlds walk among us with the greatest ease.  The holiday begins on the eve of the Solstice with Modranect, or Mother’s Night, when the mothers of the Gods as well as the mothers of one’s own line are traditionally honored and Their blessings on the household are sought for the coming year.  In our household, the emphasis is on the mothers of the Aesir clan, but especially Frigga, Gunnlod, and Bestla, Odin’s mother who in my own UPG I equate (more or less) with Frau Holda.

For the remainder of the Twelve Nights of Yule, my focus is on family, both living and dead, as well as on those among the Gods I count as Family.  It’s a time for feasting, toasting, boasting of accomplishments and making plans for the coming year, and enjoying quiet time at home with loved ones.  All of the Gods are honored and gifted, but chiefly Odin, whose role as Wild Huntsman is at its height during these “raw nights”—considered by our spiritual ancestors to be the most dangerous nights of the entire year.  We smudge the entire house on these nights, and also spend a lot of time in solitary trance work, communing with the dead, and with Odin and the Hunt.  We consider it especially important to include the land wights in our gifting as well during this (in most climates) fallow time of year, and of course we never forget our house wight.  If you like to brew, this is a good time to start mead for Midsummer.

New Year’s Eve – December 31^st

Twelfth Night begins the New Year and is a night of heavy orlog, when the patterns that will influence wyrd throughout the next year are laid.  Sumbel oaths made at midnight on Twelfth Night are very powerful and very holy.

Thorriblot – January 2^nd

January 2^nd is the traditional end of the “raw nights”—the dangerous time surrounding the Solstice, when the veil is thinnest and spirits at their most active.  I think it may also be a good time to observe Thorriblot, even though it’s usually celebrated later in the month.  Thorriblot is a rather odd holiday which in modern times many people have reworked into a festival for Thor, but which in Scandinavia was actually in honor of Thorri, a winter spirit, most likely one of the Jotnar.  The whole idea of the festival seems to have been (especially in Iceland) the eating of disgusting foods, washed down by copious amounts of liquor, in celebration of having made survived the winter up to that point.   This seems a very appropriate addendum to New Year’s Day.

Three Kings’ Day/Befana’s Day – January 6^th

In Austria and some parts of Germany, this day is also known as Perchtag, or Perchta’s Day, in honor of Frau Holle or Perchta.  Manifestations of Frau Holle in Her various forms are often reported seen on this day.  In Lower Saxony, She is a grey-haired lady with long teeth who leaves New Years’s gifts for industrious spinners and punishes lazy ones.  In Hesse and Thuringia, She is a beautiful woman in white with long shining hair who ploughs Her fields with the help of Her “Heimchen” (the unbaptized dead children).  In one story, a traveler who helped repair Her plough was rewarded by three wood shavings, which had turned into gold when he got home.

La Befana, the Christmas witch of Italian folklore, is believed to be a survival of the Roman Goddess Strina, an old woman who arrives riding a broomstick and wearing a black shawl.  On the even of January 6^th she brings candy (traditionally figs, dates and honey) to all the good children of Italy, and leaves ashes, coal and garlic for all the bad children.  As she is an impeccable housekeeper, she will often sweep the floor while she is there, too.  The family often leaves her a glass of wine and a small plate of food.  Although this is an Italian tradition, I see some correspondences with Frau Holle here.

Candlemas – February 2^nd

The official end of the Yule season.  See Charming of the Plough, below.   (Sorry, you’ll have to buy the book to read more!)

- Valgrind

Seven Years

As mentioned previously elsewhere, in honor of the seven-year anniversary of my sacred marriage vows to Odin (on December 4^th), I am dedicating the entire month of December to Him devotionally.  Seven is not normally the most significant number either in Heathenry or in Odin’s own lore, but to me this seventh anniversary is taking on a heightened importance at least partly because of the changes that have taken place in my own life during that time.  Seven years ago, I was still in an emotionally abusive relationship, living in a row house in Philadelphia, and working at a fairly lucrative and steady government job. (But one at which I had, right before Odin claimed me, undergone a very traumatic experience. I won’t go into that experience here except to note that as a result of it, I couldn’t ever have been fired from my job.    On the other hand, every day I had to go in to work and face co-workers who had witnessed the entire thing.)  I stayed with the job, just as I stayed with my ex, because it was easier, and also because I had nowhere else to go, no place else to be.

Then I married Odin, and all of that began to change.  Gradually, He disassembled my life and rebuilt it according to His own design, His own plans for me.  The relationship with my ex obviously had to go; the ex had always sneered at any religious choices I made that were not his own, and anyway, the Old Man wanted me to Himself.  As for Philadelphia, it was not a healthy or safe environment for me, nor one conducive to the Work He ultimately wanted me to be doing.  The job was too closely linked to that traumatic experience; and since He knew I wouldn’t change jobs while still living in the city, and the city was not where He wanted me anyway, one thing led to another and seven years later I find myself writing this on the opposite coast with my wonderful and supportive partner Jolene, in a rented house that’s easily the nicest place I’ve ever lived, and working at a job where, if the atmosphere is hectic and the money low, I am at least valued and respected.  Also, did I mention that I live in paradise?  Eugene may be continuing to slide downhill financially (the downtown area is definitely shabbier than it was when we first moved here, a year ago), but the Pacific Northwest itself?  Paradise, no question about it.  If you’ve been here, you know that; if not, don’t take my word for it, come visit.

So yes, seven years is feeling like a very important milestone for me, the end of one era within our Marriage and the beginning of another.  I’m still struggling for words in regard to a lot of this, but the best way I can describe it is to say that it feels as though the most crucial foundations—our relationship, my ties with at least a few of His family members, a solid grounding in Heathen literature and practice, and discovering my Work—have been laid during these first seven years.  The next seven years will be about building on that, both expanding and deepening it in all respects.  To that end, my official goal for Year 8 is to go more deeply into the Germanic aspects of Heathenry, specifically the rich folk tale heritage—much of which I will need to learn the German language itself in order to explore properly.  The name I had inscribed on my wedding band seven years ago, at His instructions, was not the Norse Odin but the Germanic/Dutch Wodan.  I haven’t been a purist as far as Heathen lore is concerned; in fact, I have been—some might say—somewhat eclectic in the sense that I accept and incorporate aspects of His lore and traditions from several different cultures (Scandinavian, Germanic, Anglo-Saxon) into my own practice.  Nor do I believe Odin, Wodan and Woden are separate and distinct Gods, though I can certainly appreciate the cultural variances.  Although my somewhat “eclectic” approach to Heathenry isn’t going to change, I am now returning full circle by recognizing and embracing the fact that the name He requested I use for Him was Wodan, and that—probably as a result of that—the folk Germanic and English heritage of Heathenry resonates with me much more deeply than the “high church” Heathenry of Scandinavia does.  I’m not going to be joining any Heathen organizations (ever again, either Germanic-focused or otherwise), but I am, this year, going to be studying German, spending more time pursuing folk tale sources, and seeing how all this applies to my path.

Another change in my path, compatible with this, is that Odin’s mother Bestla has been emerging as the Goddess who is to be my teacher in many things, and with whom I have the closest bond.  It may come as a shock to some of you (and I’m sure few, if any, will agree) to learn that I have come to identify Her—at least to some extent–with Frau Holde (again fitting with the Germanic theme).  The reasons for this are many and could probably be a post of their own, at some point, but briefly: 1) Bestla, as Odin’s mother, is the only Goddess, besides Frigga, who could claim the title of Frau Gode or Frau Wode (Mrs. Odin)—which is sometimes applied to Her—and I have become convinced that Frigga is NOT Frau Holda, as I had once speculated; of course, this doesn’t necessarily mean that She is Bestla, either, but it is a possibility, 2) the White Lady motif applied to Frau Holde fits perfectly with Bestla, who always wears white and has long white hair, 3) Frau Holda is a winter Goddesses, Bestla is a frost Giantess, 4) They are both associated (although in Bestla’s case this hinges on my UPG) with spinning, folk magic (cord magic, herbs, etc.), and the Wild Hunt, 5) Their personalities match; the somewhat cantankerous yet wise witch living alone (Borr is often away on extended trips) in the woods, often teaching painful lessons to children and other passers-by.  Again, I don’t expect agreement on this from anyone, but I think there are enough points of correspondence that no one can really say I’m wrong, definitively; there really isn’t enough information on either Goddess to form a solid argument, since most of what we know about Frau Holda is from folklore, and there’s next to nothing on Bestla to begin with.  It would amount to a “my UPG is better than yours” thing, and I’d rather not go there.  At any rate, She is emerging as the most important Goddess in my life—which I guess isn’t surprising, considering Her mother-in-law status. 

So, what do I plan to do during the month of December?  When I first took my vows to Odin, back in December of 2002, for the next couple of years (while the relationship was solidifying) I incorporated a lot of little devotional acts for Him into my life on a daily basis.  As time went on and spirit work became more of a focus in my life, these devotional acts began to fall by the wayside, unfortunately.  One goal I have for this month is to pick up that devotional focus again—devotion for its own sake, not as part of the Work.  (That said, I realize that the Work will always overlap with the Marriage; I don’t fool myself that I will be able to separate them, but the goal is to be more mindful of making the relationship itself a focus.)  Among the things I’m planning are a major purification rite, getting a tattoo for Him (the first since my valknut in early 2003), completion of some of the devotional art projects I’ve undertaken or planned for Him (the Odin Tarot will not be completed, though I do hope to start it this month), reading material focused on themes connected with Him (for example, the other day at the library I stumbled upon The Philosopher and the Wolf by Mark Rowland), picking up or creating new little daily devotional rituals for Him, and time spent with Him both in trance journey and in pathwalking.  Alongside all of this, of course, will be Yule celebrations and activities, as well as my seasonal Work with the Hunt, and the beginning of an intensive course (taught jointly by Odin and Bestla) in working with the dead.  Then in January, I’ll be starting to delve more into German language and folktales, continuing my Work with the dead and still plugging away at my art projects (including the God-dolls, which I hope to turn into a business), continuing to work (though perhaps slowly) on the Odin book, and maybe undertaking another writing project—fiction, which is calling to me again.  These things will help set the tone and direction for the next seven years.

All things considered, there is a lot of work ahead, and regardless of what I actually accomplish, or don’t, it will be a labor or love, just as the past seven years have been.  One thing being married to the Wanderer has taught me is that life isn’t necessarily about accomplishments, destinations, or signposts; it’s about the journey.  I trust that my journey for the next seven years will be blessed (not tranquil, not uneventful, and definitely not easy, but blessed, in that unique way that can be conferred only my by Divine Husband)…just as the last seven years has been.

Oh, and one more thing.  The title of this journal will soon be changing to Gate of the Slain—after my own spiritual name and Work—and will focus more specifically on my continuing development as Odin’s priestess and seidhrkona.

- Valgrind

New Moon with the Wild Hunt

Tonight, Eugene is experiencing high winds, gusting up to 40 mph–much higher than what’s usual here. (In fact, the blustery gale-force winter winds are one of the things I’ve missed about the east coast.) We became aware of this after having watched a couple of episodes of Dr. Who (my winding-down period after a long day at my mundane job), at which point the roaring of the wind outside became progressively more insistent and harder to ignore.  It sounded like ocean waves pounding the front steps of the house.

I went to the back door to look out, and all of our deck furniture had been overturned.  The umbrella was lying halfway across the yard. I went out to close the umbrella so it wouldn’t get blown around even more, and started laughing uncontrollably, the wind making me giddy. Despite the fact that I tripped and hurt my knee on the deck in the course of getting back into the house, I decided that I had to go sit outside on the deck for a while. So I did, putting on my poncho and talking a glass of red wine to toast the Hunt with (and leaving the porch light off to avoid disturbing our neighbor).

It had occurred to me, a few days ago, that tonight was the new moon, but I’d had nothing specific planned. Yet how much more perfect an observance could there be, for me, than welcoming the Hunt as it rode into town? I sat and opened myself, pledging myself once again as Their Gate into the physical world, while the giants who live in the trees sang and roared and danced in the wind, and the wind played with my hair. I toasted the Hunt and their Leader, and–at Odin’s insistence–myself as Their Gate, and then poured out the rest of the wine as a libation on the grass. I sat there, head tilted back, arms spread wide, feeling  the wind sweep over me and through me.

And then I heard it, high above: hunting horns, coming from everywhere and nowhere. And the thin piping of flutes, mingled with with the raspier sound of pan-pipes and the steady rhythm of drums. The music of the Hunt–ghostly, haunting music–heard with my physical ears (or at least, so it seemed to me)…even though it wasn’t physically there at all.  (I went upstairs afterwards and opened the bedroom window to see if I could still hear it…but the moment had passed.)

I have fought and I have dragged my feet, and I’ve been complaining the past few days that I haven’t felt like I’ve made much progress at all since Hallows…But tonight I know it: this is the year everything changes for me. This is the end of one seven-year cycle (in December, I will have been married to Odin for seven years, so far) and the beginning of another. This year, I can finally begin to see all of the groundwork laid over the past seven years, and the path that has been laid, shimmering, beneath my feet. The work isn’t done–I still have to walk the path–but this year, things reach a whole new level.

More to come in the next few days about the future direction of this blog (including a name change).

- Valgrind

Odin figurine from Lejre, re-identified?

A friend forwarded me the link to this post.  Apparently, two months ago someone found a silver figurine of a person seated on a high seat surrounded by raven-and-wolf trappings and identified the piece as Odin…until someone else pointed out that the figure is wearing a dress and a necklace–in other words, obviously female.  A new ID of Freyja has been suggested, though for the record, my vote is that it depicts Frigga instead.  Grimnisal specifically states that She was the only one allowed to sit at Hlidsjalf besides Odin Himself–and if this is Her, how exciting, since there are so few images associated with Her, either ancient or modern.

(Yes, I know, in Skirnismal Freyr sits at Hlidskjalf–but He isn’t “officially” allowed to, even in the context of that lay, and positing Freyr would fly in the face of the conclusion that the figure is female.  I know the theory that this is Odin-in-drag will have its proponents too, but I’m sorry, I refuse to believe that the definition of ergi is that stupidly simplistic.  And Freyja is never mentioned, ever, as sitting in Odin’s high seat, which is what the raven-and-wolf trappings make pretty clear this is.)

Of course, it could just be depicting a regular human seidrhkona.  In that case though, this is clearly an Odin’s seidhrkona…which is just as exciting, from my point of view.

Oracular seidhr for Hallows

I was late in announcing this, so have decided not to do it until NEXT weekend.  (Which works out better for me, actually; I have more than enough to do for Hallows, anyway!)  So, my Hallows oracular seidhr session will take place on Sunday, November 8th.  If you’d like to submit a question, you can email me directly at wodandis at gmail dot com.  If you’d like to read more about what I do, please visit this page.

And in the meantime, a blessed Hallows to you!

Curious

A couple of my friends have asked this recently on their own blogs, and I’m curious too–partly because I’d just like to know, and partly because it occurs to me that some of my readers might have blogs of their own I could be reading and linking to, and I’m always looking for more quality pagan reading material.  So, if you’ve been  reading this blog and you’re comfortable letting me know about it, comment to this post.  And include the link to your own blog if you have one, so I can check out what you’ve been writing about, too.

Paths to Odin: The Wanderer

All that is gold does not glitter,
Not all those who wander are lost;
The old that is strong does not wither,
Deep roots are not reached by the frost.
-         J.R.R. Tolkien

Roamer, wanderer
Nomad, vagabond
Call me what you will
- from the lyrics to Wherever I May Roam, by Metallica

Many people would scoff, no doubt, at the idea of “wandering” being any kind of defined spiritual path.  In our society, only the very rich—those who have no need to be “gainfully employed” between the hours of 9-5, and who often maintain more than one residence in different corners of the globe—and sometimes scientists and scholars, can get away with wandering respectfully.  Otherwise, wanderers are simply those people who move from one place to another because they have no place important to be, the jobless or, worse, the homeless.  We tend to assume, rather arrogantly, that such wandering is aimless at best, and at worst kind of creepy.  Despite the fact that whole cultures are still built around leading herds and following prey through seasonal migrations, say the word “nomad” and it’s almost sure to produce a tingle along the spine  (thanks, largely, to horror movies).  Despite the fact that throughout the middle ages kings and their entire courts moved about the countryside on a seasonal basis, settling down temporarily wherever the food was good for that time of year, the word “itinerant” connotes not only rootlessness but also an inherent lack of seriousness or responsibility.  And despite Tolkien’s romantic portrayal of the ranger king Aragon in Lord of the Rings,  the word “vagabond” does not conjure up positive or heroic imagery for most of us.

And yet, many of us claimed by or called to Odin find ourselves irresistibly drawn to the image of Him as Wanderer, and often it is the first guise in which we meet Him. Cloaked in blue-black, a broad-brimmed hat pulled down at a rakish angle as if to hide one eye, His spear passing for a simple vagabond’s staff in the right light, we find Him ambling down a grassy hill at midday, or perhaps standing on a crowded city street corner at dusk.  Or in the darkest hours of the night, we are awakened from a sound sleep to hear Him whispering to us on the wind and we look outside to see His hordes of the dead riding past our window.  My own first encounter with Odin, when I was eight, was with the Lord of the Hunt—who, it could be argued, is one of His Wanderer guises (though also connected to His role as God of the Dead).  It made a profound impression on my young mind, to say the least, seeing that train of phantoms fly past in the night, hearing the shrill cries of His valkyries and the unearthly howling of His hounds, and most of all hearing Him call my name.  It sent me running from Him for many years, without even any clear knowledge or memory of who I was fleeing from, or why.  In many ways, I was running from myself—my own true self, as opposed to all the masks other people tried to force me to wear—as much as I was from Him.

As Wanderer, Odin adopts many masks, many disguises, and myriad names.  As Gagnrath (Journey-Advisor) He travels to Jotunheim (much against Frigga’s better judgment) to engage in a deadly lore contest with the wise giant Vafthruthnir.  As Vegtamr (Way-tame) He ventures into Helheim to interrogate a dead prophetess on the subject of Balder’s disturbing dreams.  As Grimnir (Masked One) He goes to check on His foster-son King Geirrod (who not only fails to recognize his benefactor but—worse, and fatally–also proves Frigga’s allegation that he is horrible to his guests).  As Bolverk (Evil-Worker) He infiltrates the court of Suttung, wooing both the powerful giant’s daughter and his mead right out from under him.  Though many assign this role to Heimdal instead, some would even argue that as Rig He fathers the traditional three social classes—farmers, craftsmen, and nobility–thus giving reason for His title of Allfather.  Further examples can be found in sources outside of Icelandic literature, as well; in Saxo Grammaticus’ Gesta Danorum, for example, Odin is exiled from Asgard at one point (during which time His kingship duties are temporarily assumed by Ullr) and wanders alone for many years.

The Havamal (or Words of the High One)—that section of the Poetic Edda that is framed as if narrated by Odin Himself—begins with simple, almost homespun advice to travelers. “It’s dangerous business going out your front door, Frodo,” Bilbo warns his nephew in Lord of the Rings. “You never know where you might be swept off to… .”  For the ancient Scandinavians, even mundane journeys were fraught with risk, and the Havamal is filled with sensible precautions that would serve any traveler well: look before you go through a door, keep your weapons near at hand, bring a gift or at least some news or entertainment for your host, don’t quarrel with the other guests.   And yet, the astute reader will have noted all along that these seemingly mundane tidbits of wisdom apply equally to journeys in the other worlds as they do in this one.  For Odin the Wanderer is also Odin the Shaman, roaming through not only Middle Earth and His own domain, Asgard, but also all of the worlds on the Tree, including some in which He is not especially welcome, and finally wandering beyond life itself, beyond being itself, and bringing the wisdom gained on His journeys back to His people, us.  This is what we find so compelling, so irresistible, in the image of Him as Wanderer, which is in many ways a central theme that ties together all the disparate and colorful threads of His complex nature.  Unfortunately, it is also a more tenuous image, more difficult to emulate, largely because it is so all-encompassing.  Those who are drawn to His Death God masks will work with the Hunt and the dead; those called to follow Him as Lord of language will undoubtedly write or teach; those whose path is focused on magic will work with the runes and possibly seidhr and wortcunning.  Odin the Wanderer embraces all these paths and more—and yet there is something distinct here, something that stands apart.  One could argue for a shamanic focus being the closest way to follow Him on this path—the path of self-discovery and healing through journeys of the mind and soul—and yet there is room for wisdom through physical journeying as well.  One could be a world traveler in a completely mundane sense and find plenty of sound advice in the Havamal, plenty to emulate in Odin’s adventures.

When the Wanderer finally managed to corner me again, years after my initial encounter with the Hunt, I had reached a point in my life of not knowing where or with whom I belonged, not knowing where my home was and even doubting I truly had one.  I reached out in loneliness and despair, almost blindly, and His was the hand the found mine.  Paradoxically (and doesn’t Odin love paradoxes?) I found my home in Him, this most liminal of Deities.  And He began to reshape my life, demanding that I end this bad relationship, sever that self-destructive obsession.  It was an incredibly painful process, but I saw what He was doing: just as Michelangelo sculpted his masterpiece by removing all bits of stone that were not the David, Odin was sculpting me by stripping away all that was not me, everything that stood in the way of my becoming me.  This process eventually led to His moving me three thousand miles across the country to a place that better suited my developing Self, a place where I could wander with Him more freely, a place removed from both the physical and emotional pitfalls that had shackled me back east.

“But I’ll take my time anywhere,” the Metallica lead singer boasts in Wherever I May Roam (one my favorite songs for Odin, incidentally).  “Free to speak my mind anywhere/And I’ll redefine anywhere/Anywhere I roam/Where I lay my head is home…”  These words could have easily been written by Odin Himself, and it’s a funny thing how deeply they touch some of us—especially many of my fellow spirit worker or otherwise woo-inclined friends who yearn for a simpler lifestyle, free from the demands and limitations of a 9-5 routine, the life of a nomad living in a tent or yurt, free to haul up stakes and head for the next place at a moment’s notice.  What is so appealing about this is not the notion of freedom from responsibility (since along with this vision, for most of us, comes the knowledge that if we ever did attain this type of lifestyle our woo-related responsibilities and assignments would increase exponentially as a result of all that extra time They would figure we had).  No, what is appealing about this kind of lifestyle is the sense of freedom, period—not freedom from anything, but freedom to be who we were meant to be, to do the things we were meant to do.

I know a fourth one if men put
Chains upon my limbs;
I can chant so that I can walk away,
Fetters spring from my feet,
And bonds from my hands.
- from the Havamal (Larrington translation)

I would suggest that the path of Odin as Wanderer is that of freeing the soul and spirit, regardless of cost or sacrifice.  And there is plenty of sacrifice waiting here, for this kind of freedom is hard-won; Odin left Asgard as an exile, put out one of His own eyes, and hanged Himself for nine nights in order to achieve it.  My own path has involved lesser degrees of sacrifice: I had to end an unproductive marriage, sell my house, quit a lucrative job, and resign myself to seeing my adult daughter less often.  Although these things all sucked in their own way, I had reached a point in my life when I had to stop living for other people—the life they expected me to live—and live for myself, and my Self.  Odin demanded I see this, accept it, and embrace it.  This was the sacrifice He asked of me.

I will add that such external changes are never enough, either.  When we first moved to Eugene, OR from Philadelphia, PA, I was foolish enough to assume that the physical move would be enough to win me the freedom I was seeking, enough to work the alchemical changes within myself that I knew were required before I could go further on my path.  I was wrong.  Once you’ve freed yourself from all the external prisons—once you’ve found the perfect job that doesn’t interfere with your true Work, the ideal living situation (whatever that may be for you) and friends and family (quite possibly chosen family) who are too busy being themselves to want to interfere with your quest to be you, there are still the internal prisons, all of those pesky issues and demons cluttering up your inner landscape.  It is here that Odin can help us most, perhaps, for as the Entangler He is also the Releaser from Fetters, and as the God of consciousness who pursued His own process of awakening so ruthlessly I have found Him always ready—though ready is perhaps not the right word; words like insistent, unrelenting, come to mind instead—to help with mine.  As the Wanderer, Odin is essentially the God of Freedom.  I think He truly cannot stand to see any of His own bound in any way, even by chains of our own making—perhaps especially by chains of our own making–for being thus constrained keeps us from a full appreciation of the greatest and rarest of His gifts, the ability to ride thought and consciousness as He rides the winds.  You cannot chain these things.

Seidhr for Mabon

Sorry for the late notice!  I will be doing oracular seidhr for Mabon this coming Sunday, September 30th. If you’d like to submit a question, email me.  If you’re not familiar with what I do, you can read more about it here.

HEX

My autobiographic short story I Don’t Call Him Santa Anymore (formerly He Sees You When You’re Sleeping) will be appearing in the Fall/Winter issue of HEX magazine.   You can take a look at the page where I’m listed as a contributor (along with my good friend Svartesol and some other great folks) here.  The issue also includes original artwork and a cd containing a compilation of winter music.  I’ll be watching my mailbox eagerly for my contributor’s copy.  Quality periodicals for Pagans in general–let alone Heathens–are in short supply, and HEX is one publication I’m very excited about.

More information on the issue (as well as how to order a copy for yourself) can be found on this page.

Odin Day

Sometime over a year ago, when we were still back in Philadelphia, I realized that there would be a 9/9/09 this year, and that it would fall on a Wednesday.  Oh, I had big plans.  We were going to be in a new city, with friends nearby who “get” our spiritual paths and could help celebrate.  I was going to throw Him a party–something big and elaborate, something really significant to serve as as milestone of all our years together.

This coming December, I will have been married to Odin for seven years–s0mething well worth celebrating, and yet, milestones have a way of taking care of themselves, and forcing them seldom works.  The past eleven months have been a period of rapid and sweeping change in my life: I have moved 3,000 miles, changed jobs for the first time in thirteen years, lost and (hopefully) taken steps towards regaining a friend.  I’ve begun facing, finally, some issues that have haunted me and followed me (like a shadow or a bad penny; take your pick)  from one coast to the other.  I’ve been distracted, overworked, overtired.  The day itself snuck up on me at a time when I had little money and less energy, as such days often do.  I hadn’t even thought to take off from work. I ended up celebrating alone, and quietly, instead of the party I had envisioned–though I had the distinct impression He preferred it that way.

I dressed in black and grey this morning, wearing my valknut, a string of lapis chips, and a dab of BPAL’s Yggdrasil perfume.  In the office at work, I thought of Him every time I wrote the date on something–which, at my job, is a lot.  And at lunchtime,  instead of eating in the breakroom and reading as usual I took a walk with Him, in sight of the mountains that surround the suburb of Eugene where I work.  We walked a path co-workers refer to as “the loop,” which I had never explored before and which goes past a horse pasture.  We stopped to visit with the horses.   You hear a lot about the connection of horses with the Vanir, but I see them as being very Odinic creatures as well, very connected with His old fertility rites on the Continent, with warriorship and kingship, and of course with the Wild Hunt.  That time is almost upon us now.  Although the sun was warm and bright today, in the crispness of the air beneath that I could sense them stirring, beginning to gear up for the long rides ahead. As I greeted the horses (a couple of whom trotted over to see us, curious) I thought of Sleipnir, who will soon carry my Beloved through the winter skies throughout the world.  I picked some blackberries and ate them, then picked some more along with some California poppies and gave them to Him, to Them, to Woden and His horse.

Later, at home, there was trance work and a shared bottled of porter from Poland, called Black Boss.  Appropriately named, I thought.  (My second choice having been Arrogant Bastard Ale. )  Finally, I toasted my Husband and reaffirmed my vows to Him for another year–something I usually reserve for our anniversary, but it’s been a rough year, and it felt right to do it early this time.

In the wake of my original plans and what I actually ended up doing to mark the day, I’m left with one thought that I want to pass on to you: that this path, His path, is one that needs to be lived consciously and unstintingly every day, not reserved for holidays or special occasions or dates with a lot of nines in them.  It isn’t a path He ever turns away from or drags His feet on, no matter how hard it becomes to keep following it.  We’re all going to fall short of His example, that’s a given–we’re human, after all–but it’s a goal to strive for, isn’t it?  Why not live every day as if it were 9/9/09?

Having said that, for those who–like me–failed to plan adequately for today, there will be another opportunity soon, on November (the day whose name actually means nine) 9th 2009.  And for that matter, what does it really matter if the year isn’t ‘09?  I will be adding both dates to my own personal religious calendar for the future.

- Valgrind