Also Available on Apple Podcasts, Google Podcasts, Stitcher, Amazon Music, and more! Warning: we cover a few heavy topics this episode Lauren Crow is the President and CEO (Steer) of The Troth, the oldest, largest and only woman-lead international organization for inclusive Heathenry, and Gythia of the Black Beard Kindred of Central Arkansas. In addition, […]
AGF 108 – Lauren Crow, the Steer of the Troth
Heathens
Patreon Poem/Prayer/Song 72: For The Saginaw River
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This request was made by Maleck for The Saginaw River.
Hail to the Sagniaw River
Who the Alongquin peoples call Sagenog, the place of the outlet
Who I call Vatnausastaðr, the place where the water flows
May Your waters ever shine
May Your banks ever hold
May Your path ever be clear
Fed by the Tittabawasee and the Shiawassee rivers
Who feeds the mighty Lake Huron in turn
May You ever flow, beautiful river
You, Who has ever seen boats up and down Your length
You, Who have carried canoe, steamer, and industrial ships
You, Who have carried generations on generations of fish
Hail to You, O Blessed One
Whose Waters quench, transport, cleanse, and bless
Whose Waters are holy and full of good megin
Mighty Goddess, may we live in good Gebo
Patreon Topic 70: On Sorting Out the Garbage in Heathenry
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From Maleck comes this topic:
“It’s well known at this point that Heathenry’s roots are in German romanticism. And modern Heathenry is rife with fascism, racism, queerphobia, antisemitism, and on and on. How do you personally sort out the garbage from the good, especially when many of the foundational academics are part of or tainted by that German romanticism?”
I would say some of Heathenry’s roots are. If it was all Romanticism all the way down there would be precious little for us to salvage. The definition of Romanticism most useful to our end is “a literary, artistic, and philosophical movement originating in the 18th century, characterized chiefly by a reaction against neoclassicism and an emphasis on the imagination and emotions, and marked especially in English literature by sensibility and the use of autobiographical material, an exaltation of the primitive and the common man, an appreciation of external nature, an interest in the remote, a predilection for melancholy, and the use in poetry of older verse forms” It is important to recognize what Romanticism was rising to meet, intellectually and artistically. For the most part they were reacting to the Enlightenment and post-Enlightenment philosophies and artistic movements which favored materialism especially, as well as reason and logic. Meanwhile Romanticism gave emotion, the individual person, and a group of oddly distilled group of pagan ideas filtered through Christian lenses the primacy of place. Neither of these philosophies are value-neutral, and both major camps of philosophies and arts have produced a great deal of pain in their turn.
Romanticism clouded the vision of much of history, anthropology, and related fields relevant to modern Heathenry. It is important to know this, particularly when trying to parse older sources, or those sources who studied under those influenced by these movements. In part, staying with current scholarship and seeing who is willing to actually reflect on, comment on, correct, and otherwise grapple with the history of the study of whatever Heathen subject at hand is a good indicator that the person is working to excise or prevent Romanticism from taking root in their own work. An excellent example is in The Viking Way by Dr. Price, who spends a good amount of time covering the history of, and the methodologies with which archeology and anthropology were bent to the ideas of Romanticism and nationalism, and how he parses what to find useful to modern studies.
So, wherever we can we need to be aware of who we are working with as our sources of information, and if possible, how they arrived at the conclusions they did. It is also really important to remember most of those in the fields relevant to our interests as Heathens hold little to no regard for our communities or how we may use their work in furthering our objectives of providing useful roadmaps to religious phenomena and reviving various practices. They will not hold our perspectives, and what seems important to us may be completely inconsequential to them. There also is the problem that there may be quite mundane answers to the questions posed by academic inquiry when they are looking for something deeper, see the now-memeified idea of ‘this must have been used for ritual’ as applied to anthropology and archaeology. A great example is that of the so-called Roman dodecahedron. Was it used for magic? Combat? Knitting? All or a few of these? The problem being is that many folks are looking for a single interpretation when, in many ancient cultures, knitting and magic were aligned.
Another thing that must be avoided is that the past must agree with us to have been good or useful, or that we inherently are better or worse than those who came before us. The assumptions often baked into modern ideas around the ancient aliens theories, or that the ancient peoples were more ignorant than we modern enlightened folks, is a similar kind of issue: it is often racist, colonialist, ahistorical, strips the subject of their humanity, and ignores the many accomplishments that these peoples’ worldviews allowed them to make. Romanticism often took for granted that the past was automatically better, more pure, and idealized than the present, that those in the past were stronger in mind, body, and spirit. This is hardly a new view. Tacitus was pushing these noble savage ideas with regards to the ancient Germans of his time, never having visited them in person, and using them as a rhetorical device on his fellow ancient Romans, critiquing them for their decadence and largesse.
Avoiding black and white thinking, romanticizing and idealizing the past, and being sure to check our sources can help us intellectually avoid many of the pitfalls in modern Heathenry that leads to fascism, racism, queerphobia, antisemitism, and so on. However, it is not merely the intellect that Romanticism is speaking to.
A major point in the Romantic movements was that it was speaking more directly to peoples’ emotions, and ideally, hitting them in the spirit. It is important, I think, for us to recognize why certain feelings and ideas have longevity, how they persist. Many ideas that have gained traction and that have stuck with the Heathen religions into the modern period through organizations such as the AFA, the Asatru Folk Assembly, and the AA, the Asatru Assembly, and smaller groups like Irminfolk Kindred, do so because much of their messaging relies on hitting folks in the heart and the gut.
With all of these obstacles arrayed against an inclusive Heathen, how do I personally sort out the garbage from the good?
First, I ask: What is garbage?
Anything produced by or benefiting the Asatru Folk Assembly, the Asatru Alliance, Irminfolk Kindred, and similarly white supremacist and racist groups, or is any way aligned with these groups or their aims. Anything which is produced by or supports white supremacy, Naziism, antisemitism, xenophobia, transphobia, queerphobia, or the subjugation or hatred of Black, Indigenous, People of Color, and historically marginalized groups. Anything that is produced in defense of, supports, or seeks to increase the number of adherents of the underlying ideologies of these groups. When it comes to the Romantics generally the academics from this period are so coopted or innacurate that using them is not much of worth. There is far superior scholarship and understanding today than there was in the past of ancient cultures. While having an understanding of the roots of these academics and their movements is necessary to understand how the various fields have come to us in regards to anthropology, archaelogy, religious studies, and so on, amplifying their messaging is unnecessary and counterproductive to modern scholarship.
Part of this ability to discern good sources from garbage is to have a working knowledge of the dog whistles, memes, and the apparatus of what ideas and emotions feed into white supremacist groups, their hatred, and what they try to reach with them. However, it is not enough to be able to identify the influences I do not want. It is not enough to reject Romanticism and its descendants. It is not enough to reject poor scholarship and white supremacism and work to abolish whiteness.
Identifying garbage in Heathenry is rather easy at this point for me. What is harder is identifying what is useful to my worldview as a Heathen, and useful to me specifically as a spiritworker. I rely on my fellow community members to recommend articles, books, podcasts, and other resources. I actively work to find these, and learn as much as I can, both from academic and Heathen sources.
I work with the best translations and interpretations of the lore I can afford. I listen to and read current books and papers on subjects as diverse as archaeology, anthropology, philosophy, and religious studies in addition to Heathen ones, so that I am approaching the material in as best an educated light as I can. I listen to Heathen podcasts, and podcasts on all the subjects relevant to my interests as a Heathen that I can. I vet my resources, academic and Heathen alike, to the best of my discernment. I reach out to others in my community to ask for their insight, discernment, knowledge, articles, and other resources.
It is equally important to me that I employ spiritual discipline to take in the things that bring me joy, connection, and affirm my life as a Heathen. I must take in music, art, and aesthetics that speaks to and empowers the values I wish to embody as a Heathen. I must also build these up the Heathen communities I am part of. Likewise, it is important to cultivate the things that bring me joy, power, connection, and affirm the work I do as a Heathen spiritworker. I have to cultivate the Heathenry I wish to see inside of myself and in the communities I am bound up in. In knowing what it is I seek, I employ that in my discernment upon the resources I seek to bring into my understanding of that Heathen worldview. Through that work, I can bring that understanding and knowledge to others.
Authenticity
In the Around Grandfather Fire Discord server we were asked questions about authenticity by Robin.
“What does authenticity mean to you? How do you relate to authenticity? Do you think you are authentic most of the time? Mentally, emotionally, physically?
Who do you share the most authentic version of yourself to? Do you live your authentic self? Do you care for an nurture your authenticity? Why or why not? What stage of the journey do you feel you are in?
You don’t have to answer this one out loud, but: What do you wish deeply that you could share, or what way do you wish you could live, and you feel you can’t? Why is that?”
What is authenticity?
The OED has a number of definitions:
1. not false or copied; genuine; real:an authentic antique.
2. having an origin supported by unquestionable evidence; authenticated; verified:an authentic document of the Middle Ages; an authentic work of the old master.
3. representing one’s true nature or beliefs; true to oneself or to the person identified:a story told in the authentic voice of a Midwestern farmer; a senator’s speech that sounded authentic.
4. entitled to acceptance or belief because of agreement with known facts or experience; reliable; trustworthy:an authentic report on poverty in Africa.
5. Law. executed with all due formalities:an authentic deed.
6. Music.
- (of a church mode) having a range extending from the final to the octave above.Compare plagal.
- (of a cadence) consisting of a dominant harmony followed by a tonic.
7. Obsolete. authoritative.
Authentic from Dictionary.com accessed 1/30/2023
When most folks are talking about authenticity, they are talking about being true to who and what you are, the third definition. However, I think there is a great deal of utility in some of these other definitions, namely 1, 2, 4, and 7.
In Heathenry, we are often looking at resources in the effort to reconstruct and revive our religious and spiritual concepts. Being able to evaluate and differentiate solid sourcing vs compromised or flat wrong interpretations of the evidence before us, in other words seeing whether or not something is genuine to historical evidence and interpretation by experts, is part of the methodology of reconstruction and dictates its usefulness to us. If we comes across a unique experience or idea we can evaluate it against what we know to be true and discern whether or not we accept it into our Heathen practice. Its historicity may be unknowable, particularly if the idea or experience was a personal revelation. History gives us one of many jumping-off points to evaluate what is useful to our religion. So, in this evaluation we are actively working with definitions 1, 2, and 4, in how we construct what is authentic. Together with the 3rd definition we develop the 7th, that which is authoritative.
The pitfalls of this approach can be evident when you have folks who repeat misinformation, refuse to take in new information, construct false narratives that they refuse to let go of, or who, for one reason or another, actively reject expert testimony, advice, or interpretation. This becomes even more difficult when there is no evidence to be had of an idea in history and folks fill in information from other sources. A simple example of this comes from Freyja’s cats. There is no source that gives Their Names. The names Bygul and Trjegul, or Beegold and Treegold in Old Norse, which are often accepted as Their Names, comes from Diana Paxson’s short story Brisingamen. The problem is that these two names have been assumed by so many to be these two cats that now many simply assume they are. So, authenticity is a dance between what has come before, what is relevant to our experiences and understanding, and what is important to our relationships with the Ginnreginn.
“What does authenticity mean to you? How do you relate to authenticity? Do you think you are authentic most of the time? Mentally, emotionally, physically?
Authenticity, to me, is the dance between what has come before to determine what is true and genuine, what is true and useful to us now in practical terms of getting things done, and honesty and clarity with what is based in what has come before, what is our own and works now, and where we want to see things go. Sometimes what has come before no longer works, sometimes what we are doing is not true or authentic to what we need, and sometimes where we want to see things go is not where they need to or will go. So, honesty with ourselves and one another is necessary. I am authentic almost all of the time in these regards. Sometimes I put aside what feels right for what is practical, eg I may feel strong disagreements over politics at work but tanking relationships with coworkers over political differences is not a long-term viable strategy for getting things done. Even that is living authentically because ideological purity tests may be useful in some degrees. That said, purity tests are extreme in and of themselves, and the likelihood for failure to measure up to them increases the more stringent it becomes.
Physically I cannot be other than what I am no matter how I wish it otherwise. So, being authentic to myself physically means that I accept my physical limitations while working on what I am able to. It also means appreciating what I can do, to enjoy the skin I am in as much as I am able to, and to explore what it means to be a physical person.
Mental and emotional authenticity is to not hide my thoughts or feelings from myself, regardless of how extreme they are, and to give proper airing of those thoughts and feelings as they are needed. Authenticity is being internally consistent with my choices, whether those are how I think about myself, others, or what my worldview is. Authenticity is also being externally consistent with my internal thoughts wherever I can. However, I do recognize that authenticity within myself and authenticity outside of myself can be separate from one another. For instance, being Sarenth the Dad authentically is generally a separate mindset from being Sarenth the spiritworker. I am still genuinely Sarenth even when the outward expression of myself changes.
Who do you share the most authentic version of yourself to? Do you live your authentic self? Do you care for an nurture your authenticity? Why or why not? What stage of the journey do you feel you are in?
See, the thing with asking a questions like ‘most authentic version of myself’ is that it is a subjective value judgment. To a certain degree even I do not know. If I had to nail it down I share the most of myself with my partners. I know that I am most comfortable sharing more of myself in certain ways with my partners, and in others with my Kindred, and yet others with close friends. There are levels of intimacy and authenticity that do not need to cross, though, so both living and nurturing my authenticity happens in a variety of ways. I think though, now that I am out of adolesence and heading into what is often called middle age, that I am in a stage that can best be boiled down to “I am what I am -a work in progress.” I am not sure there is really an end goal besides just to live my life as authentically and well as I can.
You don’t have to answer this one out loud, but: What do you wish deeply that you could share, or what way do you wish you could live, and you feel you can’t? Why is that?”
Regarding the way I wish I could live and feel I can’t: I wish that I could live off the land more. That I could throw up solar panels, a wind turbine or two, generate my own electricity, and live more fully with the land itself. Why? To put it bluntly, I have a mortgage and limited energy and time to do things. There are a lot of things I would like to do that I will likely have to put offf until I have the time and energy to do them.
With regard to wishing what I could share: I wish that I could share more of the depths that I have experienced in my spiritwork. I share a decent amount of it, but there are still things I hang back on. Some of that is simply that some things are private. Some of it is that I have seen how folks react to certain spiritual experiences and I do not care to repeat the process again. Other times folks have to prove to me a certain amount of trust before I explore certain topics with them. Why?
I have been writing this blog for over thirteen years. In that time I have helped people I likely will never hear from or will ever meet. I have written prayers that have connected people with their Gods, Ancestors, and spirits. I have written posts that have helped folks rethink things, explore new ideas, and develop whole different ways of orienting their lives. I know my work helps people. I know it reaches people. It is part of why I write.
For me, authenticity is a lived thing rather than strictly a mental exploration. It is a living expression of worldview, values, ethics, and ideas about how we are to live. Authenticity takes so many forms that I believe it is impossible to nail down any one way of being a Heathen, a polytheist, an animist, and so on. Authenticity cannot be lived alone though. It is lived both individually and communally. We find depths to that authenticity in exploration on our own and in community with others. Sometimes, it is only through contrast between these approaches that we come to a deeper understanding and appreciation of who we are, and come to a great knowing of our authentic selves.
Patreon Poem/Prayer/Song 71: For Tyr
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This request was made by Emi for Tyr.
Flames lick the sky, Muspel burning bright
The hoary frost loosing the river’s run
Ýmir’s blood bloomed behind You
Your Name brings victory, twice signed on spear and sword
So too the Brothers’ blades were bloodied
Red-marked Runes wrought Their ruin
When the waters receded, rede You gave
Foundations were placed, great posts dug deep
Hófs and walls rose resolute
In council You sat among the Æsir
Your wisdom was worked in law and war
Blessing the holmgang rite and law-rock
Fierce and hungering was the Wolf whelp
By Your hands was He raised on red meat
Loving devotion to the Dire Wolf
When Fenris grew fear could not find You
Though His fangs grew long and maw mighty
You persevered in Your compassion and care
True You stayed to Your Son
Oathing hand given for the biting bind
Tears to the treachery
You teach the truths of legality and loyalty
To each test You bless with bravery
When choice is razor and rock
Yours is wisdom’s edge sliced in stone
Relentless, Your strop hones the hearty
Who seek Your guidance and gift
Týr is the name of surety and severity
Whose echo calls the weapon worthy in war
Who forges mind and magic in Fire and cools them by Ice
Beginning the Year of Aun
My Heathen and Heathen-adjacent, animist, and various polytheist folks in my community met for the Year of Aun on January 7th. We feasted as a community. Then, we lit a Sacred Fire. I started with flint and steel on charcloth, and put the cloth in gathered fluff from cattails that grew on my land. We started the fire with cardboard, and added wood another of our members brought. The Fire didn’t come to light until my friend Storm, who is a Sister of mine that I have had the pleasure of starting and tending many of these Sacred Fires with over courses of a weekend, came near. Everything caught in a few moments.
We made offerings of herbs, starting with tobacco since we live in Michigan, and then followed with many of the Nine Sacred Herbs. I explained the Year of Aun again then so we were grounded in the purpose of the rite.
We cleansed with the Fire. Since many could not approach the Fire I took Fire to them and cleansed them.
Josie had made Aun out of bread. We each took a piece, tearing apart Aun, and gave him and his wrongs to the fire, and dedicated ourselves to becoming good Ancestors. We each dedicated, in some way, to bringing balance to our lives, our communities, and to Jörð. When we were finished here, we sang, prompted by our friend Raven, a wordless tune that we all caught up and was drummed with. Folks took turns making declarations, prayers, and the like. When were finished we thanked Aun for his example, reaffirmed our dedication to being better Ancestors, and made offerings to the gathered Ginnreginn (Gods, Ancestors, and vaettir), including the Sacred Fire.
It is a simple and good start to getting the wheel of this year turning, and I look forward to this Fire being carried by each of us, through all our celebrations, through the coming year. Already I am seeing folks begin to come back into balance with Jörð and the various Ginnreginn, with our own communities, and ourselves. Some of these transitions are hard, deeply painful, and even so, they are worth it. May each of us carry that Sacred Fire and the dedication to be the best Ancestors we can through this Aun Year, and the years to come. Hail to all who light their Sacred Fires, to all those who seek to address the damages of Aun, and to rebalance themselves with the Ginnreginn and one another.
Ves þú heil!
A Story of Loss, Meaning, and Mutual Aid
TW: Loss of a pet, grief, working with a body, bodily functions
I don’t kid when I tell folks mutual aid can be some of the most frustrating and inconvenient things. A case in point:
Sometimes mutual aid is helping your neighbors bury their dog when you are sick as hell.
A week before and during the week of Thanksgiving I was sick with the flu. I’ve never been that sick with the flu before, save one time when I was a kid and was so bad off with the flu I was hallucinating. I took those two weeks off from work after having to visit the urgent care multiple times, and sometime after this story’s occurence, I ended up in the ER getting seen. It was a rough illness.
This takes place about halfway through this illness. I am knocked completely out because this flu has kicked my ass up one side and down the other. I get woken up by my partner, Streaking Fate. She tells me that our neighbor’s dog, about an eight month old black pitty mix puppy, got hit by a car. There is a car stopped that is just starting to pull away from our neighbor’s driveway. I found out later they did the right thing and spoke with our neighbor about what happened, and apologized. So, having just been woken up out of a dead sleep with a flu bug that has completely leveled my ass, adrenaline starts pumping. I hauled over to check after throwing on some clothes, hoodie, leather gloves, and my winter coat. At this point I had no idea if the dog was alive, suffering, or not, so I brought some things along in case I could help their dog out to either get to the hospital or end its suffering.
First, I check on the dog, who is lying on the side of the street outside their driveway. The poor boy was a puppy, a pitty mix if memory serves, and very loving. A bit hyper, doofy, and really enjoyed breaking the rules and running around our yard, but generally a harmless pupper. All of the light is out of his eyes, and he is collapsed on the street, head to the side. I check him, speak his name a few times, and check his breathing and pulse. His eyes are glazed. There is nothing I can do for him.
I then check on my neighbors. They are a man and a woman about my age, not married yet though from what I gather they are working on that. I can see that she’s absolutely crushed, not only for herself, but for her boys and especially her partner, who loves that dog. I hug her for awhile and let her cry. Then, I ask her if there is anything I can do for her. She’s beside herself, and cannot bear to see her dog. I look to my partner who is sitting with their dog’s body. I know what I should do. I ask her if she wants me to take him, get him away from the street, and get him cleaned up in my garage. She agrees, I give her my number, and she lets me go to take care of him so she can break the news to her boys.
I come back and the poor guy has involuntarily vomited. Sometimes when we die, this happens. Sometimes we vomit, sometimes we shit,or both, because the muscles move in such a way on death that evacuation just occurs. So, we grab a tarp from my garage, and carefully put him on it, and bring him up to the garage as carefully as we can. His size belies how damned heavy he is. We get him in and put him on a large foldable clean plastic table.
We make prayers to our Gods of the Dead, to Anpu, to Hela, to Óðinn, and others. We make prayers to our Gods that are Wolves, Dogs, and other canids, including Anpu and Fenrisúlfr, and divine animals, including Hela’s hound Garmr, and Óðinn’s wolves Geri and Freki, among others. Then, after some cleansing breaths, we get to work on cleaning him.
He has pits of asphalt from the impact of the road, scratches, and bits of blood here and there. We clean out the pits and wipe away the blood on him with warm, wet terry cloths. Probably the hardest thing to work with is the vomit, because while we were bringing him inside, and I hauled him onto the table, his stomach continued to empty. To make him presentable for our neighbors, we keep cleaning him all over and especially inside his mouth. We use most of our terry towels over the course of an hour to an hour and a half. As we work we whisper prayers, and we speak with him. We tell him what a good boy he is and was, and how much his people will miss him, and how much love they have for him. We speak with the Dead, cleaning him, so his Daddy doesn’t have to see him in the state we did. Over time the grime and grit, the blood, vomit, and all the rest come up. I take one of the white cloths that served as an altar cloth, and bring it outside. Streaking Fate puts it beneath him while I lift him up, and we wrap him in it, and wait for his Dad to come over.
It takes him some time to get home, to see his family, and to talk and process things. He calls, tells me he will be over soon. I ask if he needs anything to eat or drink. He can’t, so I just tell him to come over when he is ready to. When he comes over to the garage I can see him barely contain his emotions. I hug him, and can tell he’s a man not used to this, but I am, and I give him a soft squeeze on his shoulder and let him know his grief is welcome. I can see it in his eyes. As much as this puppy was loved by his family, this dog was his boy. He was a member of the family. He speaks to him as a son. For a few moments I watch him, watch as he drapes his hands over the coal-black fur in the most gentle way over his boy, and pet him, whispering words. I tell him to take as much time as he needs, and if he needs to warm up to come into the house. We leave him.
I take a seat in one of the chairs we have upstairs, and breathe long and hard, coughing hard because the flu is trying to make me expel my lungs. I blow my nose on one of my many handkerchiefs (thank you, Grandpa, they’ve definitely come in handy), and clean my hands with soap and water. A while later he knocks on the door from the garage. When my neighbor comes in he lets me know he needs to get some things from his home and to bring his truck around to take his puppy home. He asks if he can leave his boy with us for an hour or so, in order to get some things ready. He mentions wanting to bury him that evening, asking his boys to help him. Given what I saw of him and his family, I knew how hard that would be for them. I felt prompted by my heart and a small push by Óðinn to offer to help him bury his puppy.
He looks a mix of relieved and pained, and says he appreciates that and takes off. I rest with my partner for a while, and we get some dinner. A while later my neighbor gives me a call and it turns out he’s already made progress on his puppy’s grave in the backyard where he liked to be. He asks me for help in loading him into his truck bed. We only have one shovel, and I feel like I need to see this through. So, I grab my coats, gear up again, and help him put his puppy into the bed of his truck. Then, I get my shovel, and head over with him. The truck is warm, real warm, and he parks it with the high beams shining so we can see what we are doing. When we get out the cold kind of feels like it is trying to steal your breath.
We work together for about an hour to finish up the grave. We take turns with the older of his sons; the younger could not bear to be there. His partner watches but lets us work. He asks if I think the hole is deep enough. Considering I am around 5’7″ and having trouble getting into and out of it now, I say yes. So he, his son, and I bring his puppy to rest in our blanket and with his favorite blanket and a toy. Tears are stinging all of our eyes in the cold, but I blink them back, and breathe slow and deep. I get control. This is their time to grieve. I can process later. His Dad hops down into the grave, and asks to put him down into it himself.
I whisper some prayers into his puppy’s ear as I set him down into his Dad’s arms. The other two are openly crying. My neighbor is burying his face into his boy’s fur, speaking to him and finally, when he is ready, puts him down in the mound. I offer him my hand and he comes out of the grave. Then he says a prayer to his puppy, and offers space for the other two. When they say they’re good, we begin to bury him. It is quick work, between three guys shaping and digging with the cold spurring us on. We work it flat as we go, and finally, mound up the grave. When we are all finished he offers to drive me home.
He looks to me, and for another of the countless times that night, says thank you to me. I let him know that this what I was taught neighbors do for each other. This is what my parents taught me, and it is what my religion teaches me to do. When we get out of the car he shakes my hand and we embrace, and he tells me that if I ever need anything to let him know. I let him go and let him know if he ever needs anything I am here too.
This is what hospitality and mutual aid can look like. Sometimes it is sharing food. Sometimes it is defending your community from a common foe. Sometimes it is showing up to a protest or counterprotesting. Sometimes it is showing up when you are woken up from a deep sleep, dead on your feet from a flu, to help your neighbors on the worst day of their lives and bury a loved one. It may not be easy work but I can tell you, from the spirit of my neighbor’s dog to my neighbors themselves, it is good and sacred work. I didn’t show up in my peak condition. I showed up the best I was able. Really, in hospitality and mutual aid, that is all any of us can ask of ourselves or each other.
So, extend hospitality and mutual aid wherever you can however you are able. You may have no idea the impact just showing up can have for those who just need you to show up.
It is enough.
You are enough.
Patreon Poem/Prayer/Song 70: For Freyr Victorious
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This request was made by Maleck for Freyr, returning victorious from the Mound.
The roads of Hel are known to me
Over the Bridge and through forest and field
I walk with the knowledge of ancient paths
Tread by my blood-soaked feet
The ways between are trod in silence
Vitality in each step, and life springing forth
I walk and life returns in my steps from Death
Antler swaying on a cord at my side
Helheim’s lands roll up to the frozen ground
Ice stretches beyond the horizons and snow blankets all
I walk and little mosses grace my passing
Steam cleansing my warming corpse
Fire graces my bare chest and plants warm kisses
Nerves and sinew stretch and reach and sigh
I walk and ashes cling to my steps
My fingers grace dark wood that breathes new life
The noiseless yawn moves the air
Potential and nothing settle peace in my heart and mind
I walk between a roiling river and the liminal breath
My path winding about the current’s course
The deep dark earth welcomes my journey
Singing picks and voices accompany my torchlit steps
I walk by and see the forges and yards of mighty crafters
Passing, my gaze full of witness to glory and might
Forests line the mouth’s exit
Silvery voices welcome me home and bid me stay
I walk in silence, refusal spoken in my stride
My hof’s door left open for my return
Trackless woods and deep valleys invite me
Animals saunter and monsters track my way
I walk without fear among the Jötnar home
For my gifts bring peace and life to Them as well
Fields of wheat wave in greeting to me
Orchards and lakes and sagging bushes thank my passing
I walk in fertile places that I have renewed
My birthplace heralds my passage and bids me return
The peaks of homes kiss the clouds and the walls open their arms
Work and war clash around my ears, familiar calls ring out
I walk unbound in the halls and gaze upon the seeing seat
Memories follow me on the rainbow road
The expanse of Jörð invites me, finally
The blood-stained sickle gripped in my wet-eyed wife’s hand
I walk and lie in the mound She has made and breathe
Reborn and victorious I rise again
Patreon Topic 69: On Priesthood
If you want to submit a topic you would like me to write on for this blog or my Patreon, sign up for the Ansuz level or above here on my Patreon.
From Maleck comes this topic:
“Your experiences specifically with priesthood, what it means and how it has worked for you.”
Before I dig into this I think defining terms is a pretty necessary thing. Every time I have talked at length, even in polytheist, animist, and Pagan spaces, folks tend to mistake priesthood for clergyhood. I have spent time in previous posts on priesthood exploring this in depth. However, I think our recent in-person conversation illustrate the differences well, and briefly to boot: Priests face the Gods while clergy face the people. The needs and requirements of being a priest are different even if a person ends up having to wear both hats or more in service to their community.
Since I understand priesthood as facing the Gods and serving Them, my experience of being a priest for both Óðinn and Anpu reflect this.
What it means to be a polytheist priest is that you are a servant of a God or many Gods. In my case, I am an independent Heathen priest of Óðinn and an independent Kemetic priest of Anpu. I specify my independence for two reasons: one, most of my experiences of being called to and engaging in priesthood for these Gods is modern and two, disconnected from any mainstream polytheist religions that hold priesthood or clergy status with these Gods. Due to my background, my experiences and practices will likely differ from those who are in more mainstream religious practices. I was brought into these Gods’ service through direct experience and guidance by Their hands, and much of my journey in service with and to Them reflects this. While I have had Elders and such over the years, they have come and gone and much of the Work I engage in for my Gods remains regardless of this coming or going of the people in my life.
For me, this service to Óðinn as a priest has been to make cultus to Him, to teach others how to serve Him, and to engage with the mysteries He shares with me and the spiritual Work He assigns to me. It is working with and understanding the Runes as vaettir, and working with Them in magic. Much of my work over time of being a priest of His has merged with my work as a spiritworker. The bright line between my work as a priest and a spiritworker is that my work as a priest is, primarily, to and for Him. My work as a spiritworker, by contrast, tends to be connective between folks and the Ginnreginn, whether that is making prayers here on my blog, or doing Rune or spiritual consultation.
While the line between being a priest and being a spiritworker is fairly bright at times, there is also a lot of overlap between the two. Many of my acts of service beginning in my priestly service to Óðinn have brought me into spiritwork. Nowadays is there much of a difference?
I think the big difference is that my service as a priest and the focus of that role belongs to Óðinn alone. My work as a spiritworker may involve Him, and involve cultus to/with Him, but it is not solely for Him. Much of my spiritwork is connective for/to others, and much of my work as a spiritworker is in service to building connection, relationship, and/or spiritual consultation and spiritual troubleshooting with a variety of Ginnreginn. Some of these Ginnreginn, that is, Gods, Ancestors, and vaettir, may not be part of my regular cultus at all. Many of the Ginnreginn I have made prayers for are not part of my hearth cultus or any of the specialized cultus I personally hold, yet that is part of my service as a spiritworker.
My priesthood with both Óðinn and Anpu may have spiritual skills that include spiritwork components, such as divination, hamfara (faring forth in my hamr or second skin), and/or the construction taufr or amulets, but these are not solely spiritworker skills. The skills certainly stack with each other quite well, even having similar if not the same utility to the user. In many ways being a priest it is far less demanding in its requirements than being a spiritworker. While the time I have devoted to studying the Runes has been involved, and likewise developing spiritual skills such as hamfara, there are less demands on my time by Him in my priest role than there is when I serve others as a a spiritworker. The focus of the skills and their provenance differ, though, from priest to spiritworker. Even if I worked with no physical human beings and only had a community of vaettir, spirits, to work with/for, I still understand the difference is my service as a priest and that of a spiritworker is my priest role’s focus belongs to Óðinn alone.
Much of my work as a priest to Anpu has dropped away over the years. When Óðinn hit my life Anpu intentionally backed away. Much of the intense Work I did with Anpu, including tending His shrine weekly, traveling in spirit to with Him and doing Work He assigned me, and ongoing work with the Dead either stopped or changed forms in my more primary Heathen path and relationship with Óðinn that had come to the fore. My aesthetics changed along with it. I traded in white muslin cloth ritual robes for linen, wool, and fur ritual clothes. I traded in mostly copper and bronze ritual tools for iron and steel ritual tools. Whereas I had few ritual weapons in my priesthood to Anpu, I have many with Óðinn, some of which are shared with my spiritwork. Another large difference is in how my priesthoods are expressed. Anpu’s priesthood was highly regimented and often I encountered it in a strict ritual space, including ritual cleanliness requirements. While I do encounter Óðinn in regimented ritual space, and do keep myself ritually clean, it is not as exacting as Anpu’s, and much of Óðinn’s priesthood is like an ongoing experience where He walks beside me. While both Gods have emphasized ritual protocol of varying kinds over the year, the way They have done so is very different to one another.
In my experience being an independent priest of Óðinn is fulfilling work in and of itself. What I do regularly in service to Him is relatively straightforward: namely I perform cultus, which includes making offerings and prayers to Him. I keep oaths and obligations to Him. I perform other spiritual work as He brings it to me to be done. Sometimes this overlaps with my spiritworker role, and sometimes it does not. The work of a priest is service to and for Him.
Patreon Poem/Prayer Song 72: For Jörmungandr
If you want to submit a request for a prayer, poem, or song to be written to you privately or to be posted on this blog or my Patreon for a God, Ancestor, or spirit, sign up for the Ansuz and above level here on my Patreon.
This request was made by Emi for Jörmungandr.
The waves lap around me
Over me
Under me
Encircle, encircle, encircle
The enchantment drives my paths
Horses small as plankton gallop
Over me
To me
Running, running, running
Desperation nips their feet
Rán and Her Daughters play with me
Over me
With me
Surging, surging, surging
Laughter shared between us
Icy waters soothes me
Over me
In me
Caressing, caressing, caressing
Fiery pain quenches in the cool
Warm waters invigorate me
Over me
Around me
Rolling, rolling, rolling
Tension melts in the heat
Oceans flow about me
Against me
From me
Rocking, rocking, rocking
Waves roll across the waters by my might
Your waters flow from me
Along me
Beyond me
Flowing, flowing, flowing
Waters cross from ocean to river to tap
I flow across the waters
Along them
Throug them
Swimming, swimming, swimming
Miðarðr’s living protection at the oceans’ crossing
Sarenth Odinsson 