Archive

Posts Tagged ‘northern tradition’

Submissions to Odin’s Agon

December 31, 2017 Leave a comment

For Óðrerir’s Brewer

You kindled in me a love for brewing
Water, honey, yeast
Sacred magic, old magic

Kvasir’s brood, your spit

Relaxing and maddening

Teasing out the ties
Inspiration strikes
Fury froths

Growling forth from each sip, each gulp

May each brew be a worthy working

Each bottle a sacred vessel

Each glass a welcome offering

Alliterative Poem to Odin

Wind and wound

Scream and spell

Health and harm

Scar and sense

Wrath and release

Power and purpose

Grey and gold

Eye and iron

Hanged and hale



Making Midgard


When the Sons of Borr took up the spear

No ravens flew or wolves roamed

Nifelheim was far too cold

Muspelheim far too hot

They dreamed of more than ice and mist, fire and smoke

A World teaming with life, with warmth and with cold

A World full of flowing waters and rain

A World between the the Worlds

So when They slew Ymir

The Sons of Borr took up the best of all Worlds to make Midgard

Fire from Muspelheim gifted by Surtr

Ice from Nifelheim taken from Ymir

Fertility from Vanaheim gifted by Freya, Freyr, and Njordr

Wildness from Jotunheim made by the Jotnar

Riches from Svartalfheim dug deep by the Dvergar

Liminality from Alfaheim made by the Alfar

Death from Helheim overseen by Hela

Potential from the Ginnungagap woven by the Nornir

Within the Middle Yard each World was woven to the others

Crafted with care by the Sons of Borr

Advertisements

Remembering the Warrior Dead

November 2, 2017 Leave a comment

You lie in a fen
Shield cloven beside you
Sword bent

You lie in a field
Gun beneath you
Magazine empty

You lie in a mound
Spear beside you
Descendants gathered

You lie in a grave
Polished oak embraces you
Quiet rest

You lie in every soil and water
Every place given your body and blood
All hail the Warrior Dead

The Harvest is In

October 30, 2017 Leave a comment

The harvest is in
The fields are hewn down
The harvest is in
The lands are cold
The harvest is in
The slaughters are done
All is prepared for the winter is come

The harvest is in
The home fires are lit
The harvest is in
The logs are arranged
The harvest is in
The trees are all cut
All stop for a rest for the winter is come

The harvest is in
The Ancestors gather
The harvest is in
The Disir are close
The harvest is in
The Väter are waiting
All rest by the Fires for the winter is come

My Submission to the Hoenir Agon

August 25, 2017 Leave a comment

For Hoenir

by Sarenth Odinsson

You Who gave us oðr
Swift-legged, Long-legged
Mud King, Marsh King
Vili
You Who gave us Will
Hail to You!

Whose friend and aide is Mimir
Who is confidante and conspirator to Odin
Who brings action in Vé’s wake
Hail to You!

Whose mouth is full to bursting
Whose hands held Ymir down
Who helped Odin and Vé craft many Worlds
Hail to You!

Whose silence is full of wisdom
Whose countenance is fearsome
Whose counsel is prudent
Hail to You!

Who knows the many ways forward
Who even the Gods seek in counsel
Whose divination sees the Worlds set aright
Hail to You, Hoenir!

Posted here.

Here We Have Stood, Here We Stand

August 20, 2017 3 comments

When people ask where the Heathens and  Northern Tradition Pagans are denouncing racism, I will remind folks there’s plenty of us that have been here, for years, doing just that.

Let me be clear: The Valknut is not theirs.  Mjölnir is not theirs.  The Runes are not theirs.  The Valknut is Odin’s.  Mjölnir is Thor’s.  The Runes are Their own, symbols of the very vaettir (spirits) of Creation who were in the Ginnungagap (Yawning Mouth, Primal Void) until Odin died, sacrifice of Himself to Himself, took Them up and brought Them forth.  These are sacred.  When white nationalists take up these symbols, use them to further their ideology, to further their brand of hate, they appropriate them and denigrate them.  

Fuck the racists, the Nazis, and the white nationalists who take up symbols of the Gods, the Ancestors, the Runevaettir, the vaettir, and the ways within the Northern Tradition and Heathenry.  Fuck the racist, Nazi, and white nationalist scum.

Wherever and whenever you can, deny the racists, the white supremacists, and the white nationalists these symbols as theirs.  Do not let the only time someone sees the symbols of our religions be on their flags, or in their rallies.  Do not let the only time someone hears of Heathenry or the Northern Tradition be at their rallies, riots, or press releases.  

Wear your symbols proudly whether on your neck, your arm, or your flesh.  Speak out and loud where you may.  Do what you can where you can. Be a living example of the good of our religions, our ways.  Be a living example, and let our Gods, Ancestors, and vaettir be well-represented and well-known.  

For blog posts I have made relevant to these issues, look here:

Why Racism Harms Heathenry

White Guilt is an Indulgence

The Northern Gods Are Not White

For the Disir

April 9, 2017 Leave a comment

The skin and flesh fell away
The little ones took their fill
The soil ate well

The seed burrowed in the heart sprouted
The tree took root
The soul grew up and wide

The branches spread
The leaves budded
The animals gathered to live with it


The family visited their Disir
The bread and the milk laid down
The offerings fed the tree and Her companions

The tree shed its seeds
The animals carried some, the wind others
The Disir’s children grew tall and strong

For Nerthus

April 8, 2017 1 comment

Prayer 1

Hail Holy Vanir of Fertile Fields
Whose Cart carries blessed seed and soil
to whoever’s home it visits

Hail Holy Vanir of Fertile Fields
Whose Bounty bring virility to Vanaheim
shared selflessly with kith and kin

Hail Holy Vanir of Fertile Fields
Whose Hands have graced our gardens
through Your reach, the roots grow deep

Hail Holy Vanir of Fertile Fields
Whose Body rides upon the roads;
Your veiled visage a holy Mystery

Hail Holy Vanir of Fertile Fields
Whose Ways wend to beauty and blessings,
let all live with You in good Gebo

Prayer 2

The loamy earth that welcomes the seed
The black soil that bursts with life

The tree who overgrows the bones
The ground who eats the bodies

The inundated ground that bears the rice
The sandy ground that bears the spears

The grove where the deer mate
The fields where their young are born

The ever-breathing forests
The ever-teeming swamps

The ever-eating earth
The ever-giving earth

All these things You are
Hail to you, O Nerthus!
Prayer 3

They sank down into the waters
Held down by iron grips
A sacrifice for seeing Your holy Face

They sank down into the bog
Their blood reddening the waters
A sacrifice for keeping the community clean

They were offered to You
O Holy Nerthus
That the ways between us
May be kept well

%d bloggers like this: