Because I’ll tell you another very important secret. You can see him as fire, smoke, or a block of cheese but it’s not going to actually change what he is. Only he gets to do that. There’s this guy who keeps trying to make me more Western than I really am. He hasn’t succeeded, for all he chooses to view me that way. It’s like that for Loki. That’s how the cookie crumbles – unless Loki’s shoving it into his mouth.
I spent hours and even days pondering what was going on, trying to reconcile, to not be a bitch. That only worked a little. Between all the forces pressing against me, I found myself pushed into defending my territory. And that meant getting arrogant when I should never have.
Odin wasn’t telling me to build a time machine, which is great because there’s no way I could’ve. I’ve realized that one thing he meant was for me to personally go back to when shamanism was the spiritual path no matter the spirits I encountered. It means I throw out the temples, the chains. It means going back to a time when we sat around the fire or hearth and the shaman was your entertainer.
This isn’t me deciding last week things were fantastic. This is me having always lived the fantastic, and sometimes being confused when people who pray to their gods or cast a spell can’t go as deep into it as I am or do. Do you believe in your gods? I have asked. Yes or no. Do you believe in fairies? Yes or no. Turns out that for many it’s no, they just don’t accept it about themselves.
Spearcarrier here—computer fan screamin’, space-heater roastin’ my toes, pizza waitin’ in the wings. Complete with swear words.
This is Loki’s art. He is wise in læ, and he says so himself almost bitterly in Lokasenna. Which ultimately led me to… taking a look at Læveteinn, the locked away weapon waiting for Ragnarok. When I finally understood what I had found, I had to walk away from the paper and process carefully. I realized for the bigger work this comes from, that one little word and the mistranslation made all the difference. I had found the thing I’d been hoping to find – backup for my working hypothesis.
This post seems to go hand in hand with my podcast talk about feeding the spirits. As the Midwinter Nights lonely festivities progresses, my hobgoblin husband makes his preferences more and more clear. I know the lesson is layered. On the one hand, most people offer him candies and cakes. They put fireballs in whiskey. […]
I’ll add another human observation. Families have traditions. Thanksgiving, Christmas—every household has its own way within a shared frame. It’s nonsense to imagine álfablót was so alien to human habit that every farm did it identically. The sources themselves imply the opposite: secrecy, household control, variation.
“Better no offering than an oversized one. A gift always calls for a return. Better no sending than over sacrificing. So þundr endured.”
Spirits need some. Please note it’s not saying you have to give blood, which is good because blood is not my way. It Doesn’t need to be fancy. It doesn’t need to be overpowering. A little offering is better than an oversized one. So a little bit goes a long way.
The most dangerous spirits don’t announce themselves with horns and sulfur. They come wearing the faces of the gods you trust. I had another one get through my wards last night. I, by the way, did all the things you’re supposed to do: It was clever, presenting itself as Wōðnaz, with a friend masquerading as […]
From reclaimed church bricks to spirited soul-retrievals with Loki and Thor—how I raised a humble, living vé in my own backyard.
Or should I say… the Nine Herb Galdr. For shits and giggles, I looked into the Nine Herb Charm after hearing about it on Youtube. I found some English translations, but something – maybe my friend spirit or something – said the translations lacked. And what the hell. I’ve been reading Middle English sort of […]