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A Small Offering

November 2, 2017 Leave a comment

I could hear the crows calling
The small cage was empty

The suet was all gone and the birds were hungry
So I laid out another offering

Peanuts for good growth and warmth in winter
A small offering that would save lives

Something shifted as I put the offering in
Shut the cage firmly and checked how it hung

It was acceptance
I hear you, landvaettir

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The Hospital Dead

June 11, 2017 2 comments

I feel the dead and the dying press around me
A pressure at first as soon as the doors part that builds
Each step bringing more
A throng of voices, shades walking down hallways
That no longer exist
Faces contort, bodies shuffle

What is left behind is rasping breath
Pained heartbroken moments
Loneliness

It does not take long to peel back layers
To see why these ones stayed
Most aren’t lost; they’re forgotten

They cannot understand why they never came back
Why they never came
I hear their lamentations

No one has come to grieve them, none to miss them
No one to lay down prayers or a flower
No one to say “Farewell”

In every hospital the Dead stay
So many unmourned, so many bound
Laying and shuffling in every floor

There are no wasted prayers;
Lay down a flower

There are no wasted prayers;
Lay down a coin

There are no wasted prayers;
Lay down a drink

There are no wasted prayers;
Lay down a plate of food

There are no wasted prayers;
Lay down a song

There are no wasted prayers;
Lay down your tears

Do not ask “Do They deserve it?”
They are Dead
I lay down these lines
The pressure eases
Because someone remembers Them

I whisper prayers in a silent hall
The pressure eases
Because someone speaks to Them

I pour down an offering
The pressure eases
Because someone has slaked Their thirst

I lay down an offering
The pressure eases
Because someone has fed Their hunger

They do not leave
But each may do their part
To remember and honor the Dead

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

Prayers for Gefjon

February 1, 2017 Leave a comment

Inspired by Galina Krasskova’s Agon dedicated to Gefjon, I wrote these two poems.

 

A Hailing Prayer to Gefjon

Hail to Gefjon, Far-seeing Goddess!

Hail to Gefjon, Who knows Her own Worth!

Hail to Gefjon, Who shapes liche and hame!

Hail to Gefjon, Who drives hard Her Oxen!

Hail to Gefjon, Who plowed and claimed Zealand!

Hail to Gefjon, Who claims Her own pleasure!

Hail to Gefjon, whose halls house the virgins!

Hail to Gefjon, Ásynja!

Hail to Gefjon, Mother of Jotnar!

Hail to Gefjon, Whose Consort is Skjöldr!

Hail to Gefjon, Whose Plow is Mighty!

Hail to Gefjon, Whose Courses are Swift!

Hail to Gefjon, Whose Lands are Fertile!

Hail to Gefjon, Whose Ways are Wise!

 

Land-finding Prayer to Gefjon

We seek, we seek land of our own

Growing green and good

We ask Gefjon to lend us your aid

So we may settle soon!

 

We ask for land for orchards

We ask for land for grain

We ask for land for goat, hive, and lamb

Whose harvests shall be great!

 

We seek, we seek a place to build

A hof to call our own

Where we can raise a horn to You

Within our hallowed home!

Dancing

April 26, 2016 5 comments

The road rushes past

My cigar glows in my hand

The rainvaettir come down, a billion upon billion rattling dancers

The road, the car, all full of the sound of Their feet

 

The road rushes past and I see it

The first lightning bolt of the season here

Arc through the sky, behind the clouds

A silhouetted dancer

Whose drumming partner pounds and the sky shakes

 

Tendrils of smoke out the window and up to you all

The Thunderbird People

The rainvaettir

The stormvaettir

The Jotuns of storms

The Spirit of Storms

Odin

Thor

 

I call to you and say your names as Midgard fills with stomps with billions of feet

As the skies split with the fury of dancers and beating of wings

As the wind shakes and the clouds let loose the crowds

As the drumming thunderers crash and clash

The Worlds are alive and here

The Worlds are alive and there

and I am thankful to bear witness

Coffee with the Ancestors and Gods

October 3, 2015 1 comment

Something I have not done in a very long time is sat down to coffee with my Ancestors and Gods.  I did it tonight/this morning, after taking care of the offerings and laying out fresh ones otherwise, all water, except for the stick of incense I left at the altars for the Ancestors, for the Dead and for the Gods.

I had two stools that belonged to people who are family to me, gifted to me before they took off for California.  One stool holds a Native American head carved into an arm-sized log that I give offerings to as representative of some of the Native Ancestors in the ways I have been brought into.  A while back I had used the other stool as part of an Ancestor elevation working, but it has sat in a corner since.  Tonight, I brought up some coffee my wife had brewed earlier in the day.  At first, I was going to sit on the floor at the Ancestor altar.  I couldn’t see many of Them from down there, and besides, They wanted to see me too.  So I dusted off the old stool, and sat at the Ancestor altar, lighting the candles in Ask and Embla’s tree candle-holders.

At first it was just…quiet, meditative even, serving Them coffee then myself.  I usually drink my coffee with non-dairy sweetener like Coffee Mate or something like that, but it didn’t seem right in this context.  So, I sat and drank my black coffee, and talked with the Ancestors about the week I’d been having, thanking Them for Their support, that kind of thing.  Mostly it was quiet, just being in one another’s Presence.  When it was over, and I thanked Them for coffee with me, I blew out the candles, and later lit some incense.  I walked away from Their altar with a sense of peace and being cared for.

My experience with the Gods was similar, but even more silence, being quite brief with my end of talking, mostly thanking Them for Their Presence and blessings on my family, and helping me through the last week.  It was mostly quiet, and considering the Work I’ve been doing for Them of late, I was okay with that.  I left Their altar, after lighting incense for Them, with a sense of peace, but it…was deep.  More than a sense of peace, really.  A sense of rightness, even with all the challenges I and my family are facing right now.

I got the message to clean my cups out after each time with the Ancestors then Gods, and returned the cup to the altar, my cup’s holder facing me, and Theirs to Them.   It looks like both sets of Holy Powers want this to be a more regular thing, so here’s a cup to a new tradition I’ll be keeping.  Thanks for the inspiration from a while back, Jim.  It proved a powerful, simple connection, one that I really needed.

The Warrior Dead and Military Dead

November 15, 2014 9 comments

I have used the two terms Warrior Dead and Military Dead on and off, both here on this blog, and elsewhere. I felt that I needed to give some explanation, as the way I use these terms are not automatically interchangeable. Not everyone, Ancestor workers, spirit workers, or otherwise will agree with me, and that is fine. There are many I count as Warrior Dead that are not Military Dead at all. Not all the Military Dead are Warrior Dead. This does not mean that all our Military Dead who I do not count as Warrior Dead are somehow less.

For me, what makes the Warrior Dead and Military Dead different is this: a Warrior Dead has stood up in defense of their people and/or their ways, whether that sacrifice or stand is made on behalf of their tribe, religion, nationality, ethnicity, etc. They may have done so in spite of overwhelming odds, to safeguard a piece of their people or heritage. They may have given their life in service of their people, or their ways. Among the Warrior Dead I honor are the 4,500 Saxons who gave up their lives rather than convert to Christianity, and those who kept the sacred ways alive. Countless people not part of an army have risen to defend their people from oppression, genocide, invasion, hate, and privation.

Not all Military Dead are called to make such sacrifices. One of my grandfathers, when he passes, will have been in the military, and so I will honor him as part of the Military Dead. Yet, he will not have seen combat. He signed up, and so, would have been willing to place himself in harm’s way. I do not believe the only Military Dead worth honoring are those who have seen combat. As with my grandfather, one of my grandmothers has served in the Army in a noncombat role, she, as a secretary. Anyone willing to put their life in harm’s way for another deserves honor. Anyone willing to give up some of, if not all, of the best years of their life so another person does not have to, deserves honor. Whether one is a mail carrier, a secretary, a drill sergeant, a combat officer, or a medic, support staff or direct combatants, all deserve honor. All who are part of the Military Dead deserve our honor and our thanks.

I honor the Warrior and Military Dead together on a single shrine. Because of space constraints this is on a filing cabinet. On this shrine is Wepwawet, who I associate with the Warrior Dead. He is on the rightmost front part of the shrine. Standing before Him is a small ceramic cup (I think it was used for crème brule) which holds the whiskey I have in offering for all on the shrine. Beside it is a small mound of mugwort, and sometimes tobacco. In the center of the shrine is a ceramic container which contains the dirt from several veterans’ graves, which They granted to me with Their permission after I left offerings for Them and cleaned the dirt from Their plaques. It is something I try to do about once a month. To Their left is a pin I received at The Warrior Remembrance Ritual at ConVocation 2012, given to me by the ritual leader. I wear it sometimes when I serve the Military Dead; otherwise it stays on Their shrine. To the left of this is a US Armed Forces pin and a mirror from WWII. I was told the mirror had seen combat when I picked these up from an antique shop. Behind this is a muslin-wrapped figure whom I have given a lot of work to: Ramses II. Given he was a renowned warrior and his tomb had been disturbed, I have taken time doing spells and giving offerings for him. He has a small glass star at his head. The very front of the shrine has scraps of paper with the names of people I am giving offerings to, and prayers for.

Some of these Dead have responded in kind, and asked for me not only to pray for Them, but those They left behind. After all, this is a two-way street. We do not just look after the Dead. As the Lithuanian proverb goes, “The Dead are the protection of the living.” In honoring our Warrior and Military Dead, we offer Them a way into our lives, to walk with us again, and to share in our lives as much as our offerings. Our Gebo to Their sacrifices is to remember Them, to honor Them, and to keep Their memories.

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