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!
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.
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.
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.
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
The woman moves through the woods silently, her long white-blonde hair hanging loosely braided at her back, her sharp grey eyes scanning the edges of the narrow path at her feet. She wears the white cloak of a sacrificial priestess, but today she is on a very different errand: collecting specimens from various herbs and flowers and placing them in the basket she holds tucked in the crook of one elbow. As she gathers them, she explains to the young boy trailing behind her how the root of this plant encourages sleep, how the flowers of this one help relieve anxiety and the leaves of this one are good for making a poultice to treat wounds and sprains. In an even lower tone of voice, as if not wanting to be overheard even by the dwellers in the woods, she whispers to him of the spirits that inhabit different plants and tells him which ones she has grown close to and how to approach them himself and make allies of them. She tells him the right words to use, offerings to make, and even more importantly the things to avoid doing, which are different for each spirit. The boy drinks it all in, his blue eyes wide with wonder, and she can almost see him filing away every tidbit of knowledge she gives him in that frighteningly complex mind of his that seems to grow more powerful by the day. She senses—with the instinct of a mother as well as that of a witch—that although the healing arts will never be her eldest son’s primary calling (just as they are not her own) they will still be a potent tool in his hands. They will bridge the gap between the power he was born to wield over death and the dead and the responsibility he will be called to take on for the living.
Most Heathens do not associate Odin with healing at all, preferring to defer the role of healer to Eir, physician of the Gods, and perhaps secondarily to Idunna, who is more concerned with maintaining wellness (through herbal supplements, exercise, nutrition, etc.) than treating illness per se. And indeed, the Eddas depict Odin doing many things—building worlds, seducing giantesses, raising prophetesses from the dead in order to interrogate them on various topics, and engaging in deadly contests with wise old giants, to name but a few—but healing (unless you count resurrection) is, truthfully, not among them, at least at first glance. And certainly there is no hint in historical sources that healing was considered part of Odin’s cult during Viking times.
A deeper look at the Havamal, however, reveals clues that there may at one time have been a stronger connection between Odin and healing that simply didn’t translate very well into the Viking-era world. One cryptic passage (immediately preceding Odin’s recounting of His ordeal on the Tree) offers this:
…where you drink ale, choose the power of earth!
For earth is good against drunkenness, and fire against sickness,
Oak against constipation, an ear of corn against witchcraft,
The hall against household strife, for hatred the moon should be invoked—
Earthworms for a bite or sting, and runes against evil;
Soil you should use against flood. (137)
This passage seems to speak more of sympathetic magic than any actual herbal or folk remedies (at least, any that I’m familiar with), yet it is a tantalizing hint that Odin’s cult may once have had a connection with folk and herbal healing. And a few passages later, two of the “nine mighty spells” Odin boasts of having learned have at least some connection with the healing arts:
I know those spells which a ruler’s wife doesn’t know,
nor any man’s son;
‘help’ one is called,
and that will help you
against accusations and sorrows
and every sort of anxiety. (146)
I know a second one which the sons of men need,
those who want to live as physicians. (147)
The connection hinted at here turns out to be confirmed by other, earlier sources. In Gesta Danorum (“Deeds of the Danes”), Saxo Grammaticus tells how Odin—in one of the least flattering myths concerning Him—used His magic to first make the giantess maiden Rind fall ill and then heal her (as part of His plot to seduce her and beget Vali, prophesied to be Balder’s avenger). Whether or not this story is “true” from a mythological standpoint (Saxo did not like the Gods very much, Odin in particular), it does tell us that healing was considered to be part of Odin’s magical arsenal in Denmark. It also illustrates rather clearly the paradoxical nature of healing from an Odinic perspective, the fact that His healing and killing powers are literally two sides of the exact same coin.
Reaching back still further, we find even more solid confirmation preserved in the Anglo-Saxon charms, most notably the Nine Herbs Charm, preserved in the 10th century manuscript Lacnunga:
A serpent came crawling (but) it destroyed no one,
When Woden took nine twigs of glory,
(and) then struck the adder so that it flew into nine (pieces).
There achieved apple and poison
That it never would re-enter the house.
I’ve already discussed this charm and the herbs it mentions in more detail in my posts on Odin vs. Woden and my own Nine Herbs Garden, but suffice it to say that this direct mention of Woden in a partially (and perhaps superficially) Christianized charm is a strong indication that in Anglo-Saxon times herbal healing—both medicinal and magical—was counted among Odin/Woden’s many skills. This is further borne out by the related Second Merseburg Charm, from 10th century Germany:
Phol [possibly Balder] and Woden traveled to the forest.
Then was for Balder’s foal its foot wrenched.
Then encharmed it Sindgund (and) Sunna her sister,
Then encharmed it Frija (and) Volla [Fulla?] her sister,
Then encharmed it Woden, as he the best could:
As the bone-wrench, so for the blood-wrench, (and) so the limb-wrench
Bone to bone, blood to blood,
Limb to limb, so be glued.
Historical and textual evidence aside, in my own experience Odin does have a connection with herbal healing (both magical and medicinal) as well as plant shamanism, even if this isn’t his primary domain, and as the Nine Herbs Charm indicates He is not without His own special spirit helpers in the plant kingdom. In my own UPG, it was His mother Bestla who introduced Him to these practices, patiently training Him in childhood to recognize which herbs could heal, which could kill, and how to use and work with both. There is a popular saying that a healer cannot heal without also knowing how to kill, and this was never more true than when applied to Odin Himself, whose skills certainly bridge both of these realms.
Unless your own main path lies in these areas, however, it may take a bit longer to discover this side of Him, as it isn’t generally the first thing He approaches people with (the King, Warrior, Bard, and even Shaman/Wizard roles being far more popular draws). I’ve admittedly only begun to seriously explore this path in the past year or so, although He’s been urging me towards it for years. The first step I took along it was the adoption of Mugwort (one of the Nine Herbs) as a spirit helper during the form of oracular seidhr I practice, which was taught to me directly by Odin. I learned that Mugwort is a favored plant not only of Odin but also of the Well-Wight, the in-dwelling spirit of the Well of Wyrd, who plays an important part in my seidhr practice. When I burn and ingest Mugwort, She helps me to reach out to this Wight, smoothing over the connection between us and making it easier for us to communicate. (Since this Wight is so very alien to the human mindset in many ways, Mugwort really is an indispensable part of this process.)
But it was moving cross-country from Philadelphia, PA to Eugene, OR that really took my work in this area to the next level. Odin orchestrated this move, and I now understand that part of His reason was to jump-start my work with the land wights and plant spirits. The land wights here are so much more vital, present and alive that I couldn’t help being open to them and wanting to work with them. Last fall, Odin introduced me to several of His other plant allies, and during the winter I began to feel Him prodding me towards taking up the study of medicinal herbs in earnest. When spring came, this culminated in my starting my own Nine Herbs garden, enrolling in Rosemary Gladstar’s correspondence course and, at nearly the same time, landing a full-time job with one of the area’s major herbal companies. As my education in medicinal herbs continues, it will be augmented by continued studies in magical herbs, and in the future will give birth to a business enterprise that draws from both paths.
Odin also has a connection with deep healing of the spirit and soul that forms an interesting complement to His link with death and the dead. As a death God, He is ultimately a God of healing. He calls His chosen to Him, sending His Valkyries to fetch them and His Hunt to chase them down, and sometimes even conducting them between the worlds Himself in His capacity as a psychopomp. He works His people hard, yet He also continually renews them—a process depicted, metaphorically, in the daily fighting-to-the-death and nightly revival of His warriors at Valhalla. The psychopomp is essentially a healer in that he eases the transition of the dead, helping to ease the pain of letting go of the life that has passed and moving on to the soul’s next lesson. Sometimes this is a literal process, in the case of physical death; other times it is more symbolic, though just as real, involving the death of parts of our selves and of our lives.
This side of Him isn’t as hard to see as His connection with plant spirits, and in fact may be obvious right from the start, since many of Odin’s people seem to come to Him broken in some way, with their healing at His hands being one of the first steps along His path. In my own case, I had endured 15 years of emotional abuse in a bad relationship, culminating in a very messy situation that led to my cutting myself off from most of the relationships that I had previously relied on for emotional support. Alone (to all intents and purposes, anyway), deeply depressed, and with no hope that anything in my life would ever improve, I reached out more or less blindly for help and it was Odin whose hand found mine. With an infinite patience not often attributed to Him, He guided me to the study of Reiki, yoga, meditation, chakra work, and other practices designed to calm the spirit and foster emotional flexibility and resilience. (Yes, I know these are not “traditional Heathen” practices, but it is my belief that as a Wanderer Odin has no qualms about borrowing—respectfully and with knowledge, of course—practices from other cultures and spiritual systems. His main criterion is that they work.) Along with this was an intense period of rune, galdr, and trance work training that would form the foundation of my practice for years to come. During this period, slowly and gradually, my healing began, with Odin carefully and painstakingly mending the sprained and broken places within me. He is certainly capable of physical healing, and of training His people to become healers if that is their path, yet above all His talent lies in repairing the heart, soul, and spirit, patching them together and breathing new life into them as He breathed life into Askr and Embla, and first humans. During this period of time, when I was new to Odin’s service, I truly died to my old life and was reborn into a new one—both of which processes happened at Odin’s hands. Of course, even now the process hasn’t ended, and I find myself continually dying, being reborn, and healing. I don’t think this process ever truly ends.
- Valgrind
(Note: the Havamal quotes in this article are from the Larrington edition. The Anglo-Saxon charm translations are from Bill Griffith’s Aspects of Anglo-Saxon Magic.)
My partner, Jolene Dawe, has finally taken the plunge into the blogging world. Treasures from the Deep is focused on the God Poseidon, and her long-standing and deeply devoted relationship with Him. Please welcome her (and go read)!
Apparently, I was wrong. 
I have been awarded the Real Witch Achievement Award by my dear friend Svartesol.
The award was created by Juniper at Walking the Hedge and stipulates the following:
“This award can go to any website, group, blog, individual, podcast, organization, magazine or newsletter, forum, networking site and so forth that you feel has done a good service to the community or added something important, special, unique etc to the Community.”
Thank you, Svartesol! I really feel like I haven’t done a whole lot since moving out here to Oregon, and I definitely don’t get as much writing done lately as I’d like, partly as a side effect of working full time at a much more demanding job than the one I held back east. But it means a lot to me that there are people out there reading who appreciate what I’m trying to do, for Odin and for Heathen mysticism. This award really made my day.
I would also like to thank all of my readers; each of you mean a lot to me, whether you comment here or not. I hope my work contributes something to your lives, in however small a way. And of course my Gods, especially Odin, without whom my life would be meaningless, and my mother, who is with the ancestors.
The award rules require each recipient to name three new recipients of his/her own, so here are my three choices (not an easy decision, by any means!):
Silence Maestas, author of the incredible book Walking the Heartroad and the Firefly Pages website. Silence has done some truly groundbreaking work (no pun intended) in the field of plant shamanism in the Northern Tradition. His book should be required reading for mystics, spirit workers, and all those who love them and/or would like to understand them better.
Helena Domenic, artist, professor, Elder of the Assembly of the Sacred Wheel and High Priestess of the Chalice of Living Stars Coven. Helena was my High Priestess during my brief stint of actually belonging to a coven, and I dearly miss her humor, warmth and compassion.
And last but not least, Soli Johnson, my dear friend who keep the Lives of a Syncretic Mystic blog, a collection of notes about her spiritual explorations within(primarily) two traditions, Kemetic Orthodoxy and mystical Heathenry. Soli has managed to bridge several very disparate communities and brings with her an inspiring and fresh approach to everything she does.
Thank you all for what you’ve contributed to my own life and path and that of many others.
This list has been revised somewhat since it was originally posted to the Chambers of the Heart site (and needless to say it continues to evolve); it will be re-posted to the site again at some point, and likely also included in my forthcoming book. At any rate, here is an annotated list of some of the songs that help me feel closer to Odin and can help put me in a state of mind suitable for ritual, trance or devotional work. Of course, some of these are more appropriate for formal ritual, while others are better for just casually spending time with Him. Some of these choices are very personal and I wouldn’t expect anyone else to have exactly the same list, or to agree with all of my selections.
Hagalaz Runedance, Seeker Divine: One of the few songs on this list that was specifically written for/about Him, this is good ritual music but also generally inspiring and energizing. Evokes His most prominent roles and essence—as Wounded King, Shaman, God of Battle and Self-Sacrifice, Wanderer, and Seeker of Truth–very nicely.
Metallica, Wherever I May Roam: Very sexy in a rough and gritty way, very classically Odin as Wanderer and seeker of knowledge. Great for listening to while out walking with Him.
Sarah McLachlan, Possession: This is a very special song for me as well as for a few other Wodenists I know; it bridges the gap between being very personal and yet at the same time very evocative of His passion and wildness. A few lines from this song have been in my email signature since I married Him back in 2002.
Rob Dougan, Furious Angels: Powerfully evocative of the Valkyries, and excellent for doing ritual for Them, contemplating them, or working oneself up into a waelcyrige frenzy. J
Peter Murphy, No Home Without Its Sire: Odin as Allfather and Lord of Asgard. Very comforting and grounding.
The Doors, Riders on the Storm: A Wild Hunt song par excellence.
Wagner, Ride of the Valkyries: This is such a versatile piece. On the one hand, it evokes the Valkyries Themselves very strongly. On the other, it also calls to mind the Hunt, and is a wonderful choice for background music for any kind of Odinic ritual as well.
Therion, Asgard: This emphasizes the militaristic aspects of Asgard, but it’s great stuff, very energizing.
Goo Goo Dolls, Iris: This song, from the movie City of Angels, speaks to me of the Divine/Human marital relationship in general. For me, it’s about my relationship with Odin, but I’m sure spouses of other Gods would find it just as relevant.
Finger Eleven, Paralyzer: This song, for me, calls to mind Odin’s venture to Hnitbjorg to woo Gunnlod (aka young Frigga) and win the Mead of Poetry.
James Taylor, You’ve Got a Friend: This is an old one, from my childhood. I used to sleep with the radio on, and it seemed that whenever I woke up in the middle of the night—especially if it was from a nightmare—this song was playing. It was years before I realized its full significance for me, though.
Jeff Buckley, You and I: one of the more personal ones, evoking memories of a shared past we had together.
Live, Forever May Not Be Long Enough: another personal selection, relevant to my own relationship with Him.
Blue Oyster Cult, Don’t Fear the Reaper: in my opinion, the quintessential ballad for Odin as death God and psychopomp.
Dido, Here With Me: another very personal one.
Evanescence, Taking Over Me: a trance possession/horsing song.
Sarah McLachlan, Sweet Surrender: probably self-explanatory.
Billy Joel, Shameless. Again, personal. I also find, on a less personal level, My Life to be rather Odinic in tone.
Sequentia, Edda: Basically, the Eddas, sung in Old Norse against a haunting musical backdrop. An exquisite accompaniment to ritual.
- Valgrind
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