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The #DoMagick Challenge Day 2

December 2, 2017 Leave a comment
Uruz

Uruz (Wikimedia Commons)

Today I did galdr with Uruz.

As yesterday, my work was done entirely outside from start to finish from about 8pm-9pm.  It was a little chilly, but I was comfortable.  Maybe if the weather turns cold and harsh I will bring it inside.  Until then, we will see.

As before, I smoked Großmutter Una to cleanse and prepare myself.  I eased into the galdr work after all the prayers were made.

Breathing deep, my body was warming up, and my body was filling with power.   I felt myself a great beast, filling with air, with potential, with power.  I felt mySelf, my animal within me stir.  Another animal rose as I finished my prayers of connection with Uruz.  The first time I galdred Uruz, I could feel the auroch as I lowed.  Uruz came three times from my lips and that animal came bellowing out of me.

When I continued to galdr Uruz, it was connecting to power, within and without.  It was power, but not only for destruction.  It was the primal power that when you look into someone’s eyes, they understand and do.  It was not charisma, it was the primal pull that tells someone something needs to be done, and then to go do it.  

It is rising heat and muscle put to work.  It is the potential energy of those muscles at rest, the potential of a round piece of wood to be made into a torch.  It is the ability to do great violence, and the ability to do great things.  It is ferocity and will, patience until the time to act which is done decisively.  It was animal, it was primal.  Damn did it feel good.

After finishing my prayers of thanks and cleansing with the meditation done, I spent time cleaning out my pipe and coming back to normal headspace.

Link to the Daily Ritual for the Challenge.

#DoMagick

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The #DoMagick Challenge Day 1

December 2, 2017 Leave a comment
Fehu

Fehu (Wikimedia Commons)

Today, I did galdr with the Rune Fehu.

When I galdred Fehu I was outside.  It was cold, but not too uncomfortable.  My first galdr I did three times and sat in the quiet, frigid evening.  It was almost midnight.  When I was not galdring, I had my pipe between my teeth or in my hand with whisps of Großmutter Una’s burning body rising up before me.  I felt the tingle of the Rune’s response.

I galdred three times, and breathed deep with each galdr.  The last round had been shallower, lighter.  This one was deeper, huskier.  A light breeze was blowing, but what I felt more than the cold was the latent warmth of the Earth beneath me.  The pulse of Midgard.  Not as vibrant as, say Summer, but still quite there.

I breathed in the sacred smoke three times, blew out, and then galdred rough, growling.  A lot louder than I had been. When I finished I could hear the echo out over the abandoned farm country behind the house.  Then, to my surprise, a cacophony of coyotes kicked up in response to the first galdr.  I galdred again, and they returned with howls.  The third galdr, and the continued to howl and yip.  I had a flash of seeing animals tucked away in little buildings, coops and the like, and another sight of winter wheat though we have none planted right now.  Warm things, baked things, and also hunting, of tracking things over cold land for a good meal.

I breathed for a bit and took in the presence of the Rune as the coyotes continued for a bit.  It was an interesting dichotomy, between the warmth of bread and soup in a warm house and hunting down warm prey in the cold.  To chase and tear on the one hand, and to dig into stores and settle down for the cold of Winter on the other.

Link to the Daily Ritual for the Challenge.

#DoMagick

 

Communion

January 14, 2015 2 comments

The hoarfrost bites.  The rain is frosty, pelting my hat, my trenchcoat.  I take out the little sacred pipe, and kiss it nine times all over its sacred body.  I load it with tobacco after offering to the Directions, to the Spiritkeepers, to the hidden Sun, the Earth beneath my feet, to the Sky above me that has opened up, to one of the Creators, to the Disir and Väter, to the Ancestors, and to the Gods and Goddesses.  The tobacco has been in my pouch so long it has become dried powder, and it packs deep.  The last of the tobacco goes into the sacred pipe.  I make my prayers to the Sons and Daughters of Muspelheim, to the spirit of Fire Itself, and light it.

It takes to the offering, and I make short, quick puffs to encourage the Fire to spread.  I offer the smoke to all those I have just offered tobacco to.  I walk over to a small boulder that serves as the main vé for our unknown Ancestors who extend Their hands to us.  I blow smoke upon the stone, and thank Them. As I walk by the oak tree my father planted when we first started living on the property, something about it in the frost strikes me, and I ask if I can take its picture.  Of course, I have forgotten my phone inside, but that is fine.  It assents, and I offer it smoke in thanks.

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I walk on into the sacred grove.  The ground is sodden.  The lengths of birch I bought from a man half a year ago are in disarray.  It occurs to me, starting to right them again for perhaps the third time since I bought them, that this is how they wish to be for now.  I leave the rest go, and head over to Odin’s godpole.  He is here, as surely as He is at our altar to the Gods.  He is here.  He is waiting.  Odin had called me to come out, and give offerings after I had given offerings to Hela and Niðogg.  These had been our compost; used coffee, rotten food, broken eggshells, all dead things come to give new life in time.

I kneel before His godpole, and I hail Him.  I take three drags, always three when I offer to a God, Ancestor, or vaettr, and blow it over the wood.  Then, partly feeling compelled and partly feeling it a good thing to do, I take three drags and place the pipe into His carved mouth, and He smokes.  I do it again, and I can feel Him breathe it in, the smoke rising.  One last time, and the smoke rises lazily from the pipe, and I am sure He is here, and with me.  Here, in the midst of my hands tightening under the cold and frost-rain, I feel my God, World-wise and powerful, and here. I smoke with Him for a few moments.  We speak, being with one another in the moment, but it is less like speaking, and more deep than words.  Communion, perhaps, is a better descriptor.

There are words; we greet each other, and He is at once in the cold, and cold Himself, and yet warm too.  He is pleased, and it is time for me to go.  I kneel on the ground, offering smoke, and thank the landvaettir for allowing me to come, for allowing this space to be.  I take off my hat to Them and to Odin, and leave the sacred grove walking backwards. I bow once I have reached the boundary. Then I turn to the house, and offer it smoke.

I sit on the deck for a few moments, and smoke, and the Ancestors are near.  Many have endured this kind of thing without all the benefits I have, most especially a grand house that sits at my back.  They tell me They want me to smoke with Them, but as I reach for the sacred pipe, many insist I go inside.  Some of Them do so for my sake; my hands are aching with cold.  The Others want to enjoy the warmth of the home and do not want to smoke with me in the freezing rain.  So I go inside.

Each tree received offerings of smoke, and each has given Its permission to be photographed.

Raising Odin’s Godpole

August 22, 2014 2 comments

About a week ago my family raised the small godpole I had been carving for the last few months, mentioned here, for Odin. I first mentioned the godpole here.  It’s relatively small; it is a former garden stake. I am on the lookout for a small hat to fit it.

The ritual itself was relatively simple. I had received a message that I should retire my old personal sacred pipe, and was told to bury it with Odin’s godpole. So, around 8 in the evening my family went outside to the sacred grove we keep for our outdoor rituals and Sacred Fires. Sylverleaf dug the hole near the tree we make offerings to while our son held on to the godpole and the box containing my retired sacred pipe. When it was dug I placed tobacco in as an offering, first for the landvaettir, then for Odin. The pipe bowl was laid in the East of the hole just behind where Odin’s godpole was going to go, just beneath one of the tree’s roots, and the stem was laid in the West. We gave our son the option of planting the godpole himself, but he opted to let me do it. So, I put it in the Earth, thanking Jörð for letting us dig into Her to plant it, and thanking the landvaettir for the same. Together we mounded the soil back into the hole it was dug from, and packed in the dirt around the godpole.

When we were good and sure the pipe was well-buried and the godpole was not going anywhere, we knelt before it and made our first prayers before it. We knelt, hailing Odin and praising Him for His blessings on our family, His Presence in our lives. We bowed, and then prostrated ourselves before Him, and then left. It was simple and it was powerful.

These pictures were taken the day after the ritual took place.

 

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