Ancestral Shores

On the day she came home, they’d been happy to see their daughter return. Communication had been difficult at times, sometimes even impossible. Like every child out adventuring out in the world, there were times when she simply hadn’t even remembered to check in, to let them know she was ok. But that was ok too, because she always did eventually. Full of life and happy to see home again even for the short time she’d be there before the next adventure.

This time though, things were different. When she’d arrived this time, they’d worried as she coughed, a dark shadow falling on her chest like never before. Watching her struggle to climb hills and moors that she’d climbed hundreds of times before with ease, they felt only sadness. But she always was a stubborn one and she’d carried on walking uphill regardless. They’d gone with her to see the doctor a week or so later, her coughing…no asthma had gotten so bad.

“I remember how bad that was for me”, Violet had said, “Marvellous what they can do nowadays with medicine.” Lillian had simply stroked their granddaughter’s forehead as she breathed the in nebulizer and her breathing stabilized.

Eventually though, she’d gone again, got onto the plane with her husband and left.

And after a few hours they couldn’t feel her anymore.

Late at night, when most people are comfortably ensconced inside, they would meet on the beach, the sometimes stormy Irish sea before them. Something about that direction, that place made them feel ever so slightly closer to her, their errant family member. Sometimes Lew would make comments like “She gets that from me, you know!”, and his sister and wife would slap him on the shoulder and tell him not to be so daft, and that he’d never literally disappeared before.

One of those nights, when the surf was up and they could almost hear what sounded like her voice on the wind, James came to the conclusion that this not being able to hear her thing had to have something to do with the sea and then the ocean beyond that. After all, she *couldn’t* be in Ireland, they’d know. They had family and blood there. At one point, Peter had even stood on the opposite shore and called to them that she absolutely wasn’t there. Thanking him, they’d engaged in a bit of banter before going back to keep an eye on the rest of the family.

It was finally when William was sitting next to his son, in the living room of 35 Primrose street that he’d heard Val say something about her being in America. It all made sense to them now, but still they missed her.

“It’s probably best if you go to Southport when the tide’s up” said Ken, he still wasn’t comfortable in his new role in the family, but he was doing well even though it hurt him to see his wife still so sad. “Take it easy, son. These things take time.”, his dad had said. He knew better than most how it was to go through that kind of separation, and Ken had always been the kind of big brother to take his responsibilities to his siblings very seriously.

So it was that they came to be sitting there on the beach during what was a horrible storm (for those that could still feel that kind of thing), straining their ears and trying to hear their long-lost daughter, they sat. They had all but given up, when they finally heard it, her voice weak on the winds.

It was their names in prayer, asking them to do their best to find her.

And right then and there, they decided that if the wind could find a way, so could they.

Ylfig

Recently, as part of the research for my book on Seidr, I've been reading Alaric Hall's book 'Elves in Anglo Saxon England: Matters of Belief, Health, Gender, and Identity'. The work is a very thorough, scholarly piece, that very much reminds me of Erika Timm's 'Frau Holle, Frau Percht, und verwandte Gestalten' in terms of the level of detail that the scholar devotes to the source material, the methodology for dealing with the source material and also even how the information is presented.

As an almost-preface to this post, I'm very aware of the potentially controversial nature of this information, especially given how some groups use practices which may be construed as being similar to what this term appears to suggest. However, I do ask that you continue to read to the end before replying as I will be attaching a rather large caveat which wasn't addressed by Alaric Hall in his book, nor was it within the scope of the work.

The discussion of the term 'Ylfig' is to be found from p148 - 154, and just to give some background on the chapter in question, there is a lot of discussion on the roles of Aelfe in magic, how 'elves' were often cited as 'ailment' when a person was believed to be suffering from magical attack (especially when localised internal torso pains or mental delusions were concerned), and how magic-workers were also credited with getting their power from the elves in some sources.

This naturally led to discussion of the word 'Ylfig', there are few attestations to 'Ylfig, in two different sources from two different time periods: Aldhelm's 'Prosa de virginitate' from the end of the 7th century (relatively shortly after conversion, which occured definitively from 655CE), and a manuscript known as 'Harley 3376' that dates back to the 11th century.

Hall starts off by comparing a similar word, 'gydig', which survives to this day as the modern word 'giddy', the 'gyd' element pertained to 'god' and the word was used as a gloss for the Latin word 'lymphaticus', meaning 'diabolically possessed'. The word's primary meanings into the Middle English period were 'insane, crazy, possessed by a devil'. So, as a result, the broad meaning for 'gydig' was 'engaged with a god'.

To turn now to Ylfig, the earliest reference (and gloss) of the term comes from verses 697-698 of Aldhelm's 'Prosa', in which we see 'Ylfig' , (along with the Latin gloss 'garritor') as an OE gloss for the Latin word 'comitialis'. Generally speaking, we would now translate 'comitialis' as meaning 'epileptic', however we need to remember that our conception of epilepsy is far different from that held in 7th century England (or indeed the rest of Europe). The word 'comitialis' is an obscure word, one that has only been found in very rare instance and so Hall is pretty certain that Aldhelm took this word from Isidore of Seville's 'Etymologiae'. The entry in the Etymologiae, not only gives us the word 'comitialis', but a greater conception of how epilepsy would have been seen:

" is caused by the melancholic humour - how often it may have overflowed and been redirected to the brain. This is caused passio (suffering) and caduca (epileptic falling), because the epileptic suffers convulsions. These indeed the common people call lunatici (those made mad by the moon), because the attack of demons follows them according to the course of the moon. So also larvatici. That is also comitalian sickness, which is more significant and of divine origin/to do with divination, by which those who fall are gripped. It has such power that a healthy person collapses and froths. However comitialis is so used among the pagans, when it had happened to anyone on the day of the Comitia (assembly for electing Roman magistrates), the comitia were broken up. But the usual day of the Comitia among the Romans was during the Calends of January."

Just a footnote here before continuing, Bede gives the date for Mother's Night as being the Calends of January (24/25 December).

Given this gloss and the conception of epilepsy given above, on pages 150 -151 Hall reasons that "Ylfig must then denote some altered state of mind...We may set this alongside its pairing with the Latin gloss 'garritor'. This word is even more unusual than 'comitialis', but is a transparent deverbative formation from 'garrio' ("I chatter, babble, prate"), meaning 'babbler'. More precise connotations of this word as it was understood in Anglo-Latin, however, are suggested by chapter 44 of the Prosa de virginitate, which mentions 'a pithonibus et aruspicibus uana falsitatis deleramenta garrientibus' ('empty gibberish of falsity from garrientes prophetesses and soothsayers') suggesting that the root of garritor had (pejorative) connotations of prophetic speech."

To turn to Harley 3376, we have the entry:

"Fanaticus .i. minister templi" with the further following information "futura praecinens . I ylfig"

Roughly translated, the first section is 'Fanaticus i.e Priest of the temple' and the second section is 'one fortelling things to come, or ylfig'. In this entry, 'futura praecinens' and 'ylfig' are glossing 'fanaticus',

Hall takes these glosses, plus the meaning of the similarly constructed word 'gydig' to mean that 'ylfig' means in a very rough sense 'engaged with elves', for the purpose of divination. He also finds further support in an account from a related culture: the tale of the wasting sickness of Cu Chulainn. In this story, Cu Chulainn is afflicted by fae people who beat him while in a state that is perceived to be something resembling an epileptic fit by human observers (who see him writhing senseless on the ground). At one point, one of these observers goes to wake him, but is stopped with the words "Do not disturb him, it is a vision that he sees." Upon waking, Cu Chulainn recites a piece of perceptual wisdom that was uncharacteristic of himself at that time. This tradition of elf/fae-gotten wisdom is something that persisted into accounts from witchtrials with both the Orkney witch Elspeth Roach and Agnes Hancock of Somerset claiming power from the elves or fae (not to mention Issobel Gowdie's detailed and fantastical tales of interactions with the elves or the conceivably elf/smith-gotten arrows of the Haegtessan in 'Wid Faerstice').

The idea of being possessed by elves might sound quite funny to our ears, especially given the cartoonish image that elves have been reduced to in our society. They're either seen as cute typically green-wearing pointy-eared people that live in forests with their elf families living their little elf lives, OR, they're seen more like the elves from Tolkein's works, aloof otherworldly living in complete harmony with nature but sometimes also warlike. What Hall does in the earlier chapters is clear up these misconceptions quite neatly. To summarize some pretty extensive scholarship, elves can be considered to be:

* All male - female elves didn't appear in earlier sources, in fact, the word for elf was artificially feminised (according to Hall, I wouldn't know, I'm understanding more OE now, but I'm nowhere near his level) and there is no cognate for the OE word for female elf in ON.
* Considered to be otherworldly, yet firmly belonging to the 'non-monstrous' category of the otherworldly beings.
* Could refer to either people with qualities considered to be elf-like/people believed to have some elf-ancestry/the 'Vanir' ('Alfar' and 'Vanir' are sometimes used interchangeably and so share partial synonymy)/ localised gods.
*Beautiful, 'white', and even shining - all qualities considered 'unmanly' by the 'in-group' of mainstream human civilisation in that area and era - but that was cool, because you know...they were elves, powerful, respected and often badass warriors in spite of being very pretty.

Now if 'Ylfig' really indicated 'possessory' practices among the pre-Christian Anglo-Saxons, then there are some very real ramifications for modern day heathens. We have all railed at and mocked those that engage in 'horsing rituals', claiming them to be out of our worldview, some of those groups that have practiced those rituals have themselves, very definitely crossed over into the 'monstrous' category. After all, it's a very powerful thing to claim a god is speaking through you, and once you have consolidated the belief in your followers that that is indeed occurring, then it's all too easy to use that as a tool for control.

There are also very real issues in terms of just what would be meant by 'possession' in a society with a worldview so vastly different from our own. We know what 'possession' means in our society (a complete displacement/suppression of the possessed's soul), but we live in a society that is heavily influenced by dualistic ideas. Soul and body are easily separated, detachable for your ease and comfort. However we don't know if pre-Christian Germanic peoples considered there to be a soul. The only thing we could really solidly use as a gloss here is the 'hamr'.

From various accounts of 'mara'(in which the Seidr worker actually becomes the mara to inflict the harm on the victim) and Seidr's mind altering/influence applications, we have quite a strong case that people believed it possible that a person could be influenced 'supernaturally' by outside forces. We often see the argument that people never come across gods, because if you met a god, it'd be in the physical world, however if people believed that people could send their hamr forth in ways that were not only visible to others, but interactive, why would we not credit gods such as Odin (who was said to be skilled in Seidr), or goddesses like Freyja with the same?

Now I'm not advocating either way here, this is just a summary of the arguments presented in the book and the possible ramifications of that information. Either way, I figured it would make a good conversation topic :).

The Newtown Shooting

Generally speaking, I don't get sucked up in these big events. Sure, I feel bad for the people concerned and wish them nothing but comfort and support from their families and communities, but I'm not going to lie, a lot of the time these occurrences are distant from me. However yesterday, a man walked into a school in the next state over from where I live and shot children. Around twenty families yesterday said goodbye to their kids yesterday morning, not knowing that that goodbye would be their last. Yesterday, I saw friends on Facebook torturing themselves over the decision whether they should pull their kids/siblings from school for the rest of the day. I saw parents that couldn't stop crying because their minds were tormented by the 'every parents' worst nightmare' scenario that was happening to a bunch of parents right then and there. For them, it was all too easy to imagine their own kids not coming home and they held them all the more tighter last night. Grateful and glad that they weren't those parents and that their kids weren't the ones. I'm not a parent. As much as I would very much love to be, that hasn't yet happened for my husband and I. I can't understand it on the same level as parents can, and in honesty, I could quite easily put it down to a psycho being a psycho. An unfortunate event, but random all the same. That was until a friend of mine said that his friend's kids were at that school and they didn't know if they were ok or not. It was a friend of a friend whose kid was there, not even the kid of a friend, but it was enough. Suddenly I found myself in tears, those six degrees of separation were closer than they usually are, and I was lighting candles and praying that these children I didn't know and had never met would turn up ok. A little later in the day, on a Facebook group, a group member talked about how her co-worker was waiting to hear if her kids were ok, they were at that school. I don't really know this lady at all, but the group is a pretty private one, and one in which a lot of us have shared a lot of intimate details. I added these children to my prayers. Prayer in heathenry is a weird old thing, there's a lot of baggage with something like 'prayer', although it's not just specific to Christianity, and for a moment or two I felt lost at what to pray. In spiritualism, at least as my family has practiced it, there is a belief that we go to our family when we die. That the family members that that already passed come to fetch us and that it's with them that our afterlife lies. I don't know how historically Heathen this is. A lot of people quote the whole store of Radbod the Frisian to back this point of view up in Heathenry, but I frankly don't care. When I die, I want to go to my ancestors. I want to be with my family and I want the links forged between my family and that of my husband's to last after death. My ideal would be us all living in a Hobbiton-type place in the afterlife. Nothing particularly spectacular, just together and contented. That's all, I guess I'm a simple soul. When praying for others, it's hard to pray in a way that isn't imposing your will upon that of those deceased, but a lot of people, Heathen or not, believe (or at least hope) that they'll meet with family after death. And so, for the past day or two, my prayer has been simply this: 'May their ancestors hold them and keep them until their parents and siblings join them.' Thankfully my friend's friend's kids were ok, but sadly, the lady from my facebook group didn't have such good news to report. Her co-worker's son was one of the murdered - a grim reminder that real life isn't like the movies and that a lot of the time, no amount of hoping and praying can save a person. Real life very rarely comes with a happy ending. I don't know what it is to be a parent, but my heart breaks for those parents all the same, just as it did for the parents of the Beslan massacre years ago. Yesterday my prayer was: ' May their ancestors hold them and keep them until their parents and siblings join them.' Today I add: 'May their families be surrounded by loving people and strong communities that support and comfort them.'

Third Culture Heathens

Recently when reading a political article about why Americans don't 'get' Obama, I came across a concept that has provided food for thought ever since. Generally speaking, the term 'third culture' tends to refer to the kids of people that are living in a place that is not native to them for the purpose of work and then either move to another country or back to their 'native' land. These kids don't belong fully to either culture, neither the culture of their parents, nor the culture of the lands where they lived and grew. They're either 'too____' or 'not enough____' to be considered part of either of the cultures they've been exposed to. Instead they straddle the worlds, often having perspectives that are at best, out of synch with, or at worst, completely incomprehensible to those around them. Although I grew up very much a part of Northern English culture, over the years and throughout my travels, I've become something else. I'm English, but increasingly I'm finding my own culture becoming foreign to me. Every time I go back to visit, the places I grew up in seem a little more foreign, yet still strangely familiar all at the same time. With each visit, I feel a little more foreign in my own land. I know where I'm going, I understand the dialect, I know the places like the back of my own hand, but it's almost as though I've seen them in a dream before rather than lived in them. That sense of belonging that I used to have when I went home is almost gone now. But it's not like I gain familiarity with the place I now live. I don't feel anymore belonging, I'm still too foreign for that. And so I cling to what was once familiar, trying to stop the last remnants from slipping away, drinking my tea, making meat pies, speaking dialect at home, and taking every opportunity to talk about home as I can. Yet all the while the voice I use for the outside world is one that is more in line with this 'third culture' identity I've gained, and occasionally a fake American accent so I can get a takeaway place to understand me speaking my own language on the phone. That's not the only conundrum in the cultural puzzle that I've become either, my residences in Korea, France, Spain, Portugal and Germany have marked me just as strongly. Spoken German still holds a sense of familiarity and 'home' for me that I can't shake. Food eaten with chopsticks still seems to be my preference and I don't think I'll ever be able to stop bowing or handing things over with my right hand as a sign of politeness and respect. My hands do half of my talking now, although I never grew up that way. The ways in which my travel has changed me from that girl from Northern England are many, some subtle and some not so subtle. I've become 'third culture'. While it's one thing to recognise that you're 'third culture', it can get quite weird as a 'third culture' Heathen. As Heathens, we're more aware of things like land, culture, folklore, and ancestry. In fact, a lot of us draw our Heathenry from those things. However what of those of us that don't have that same sense of belonging? I don't know, I don't have any answers. I make my offerings, I try to learn the land here as I learn the culture and that god-awful accent I use when ordering takeout on the phone, and I get by. I do more than get by though, over the years I've made some fantastic Heathen friends here, so at least I have community, good people to serve as an introduction and who I'm honoured to call friends, but the rest...yeah, that's probably something I'll be musing on for a while. This isn't a sad post, I don't regret my travels for one moment, I'd do it all again in a heartbeat. I've gained so much from my experiences and have hopefully set another layer in my family that will make it easier for others to follow in my steps. This post is just a musing.

October Part Two

This is going to be another crazy UPG-filled post.

So I feel pretty emotional right now, I know that's not a typical thing for me to say but there it is. I just got the tattoo in honour of Holle-Frija finished and for want of better words, it feels like an initiation has occurred, that it's more or less complete and that I only have to celebrate this change and start living anew now.

This whole month has felt 'initiatory' in nature and a lot of stuff has been tied up, I've been 'pulled' back to where I am supposed to be and new things have started.

Since getting the first part of the tattoo done, I've completed and submitted my paper on Holle's origins to Odroerir (which I oathed to do both to Frija and my community) and I've started my book on Seidr - in fact, I'm a sixth of the way through it now. I've come more back to the 'middle' of things, back to my roots and I'm no longer ashamed or embarrassed by the weird side of my practice. I am a woman that grew up on boggy moors, that has drummed and chanted and sung under moon and sun on burial mounds. I'm a woman that sees things that others do not and doesn't consider any of it to be supernatural, but rather very much natural. I don't think myself any more special than your average person. I am a woman that, a couple of years ago, came across a deity that changed everything and that has been studying her ever since. I'm also wife to the most amazing man on earth, friend to some great people, keeper of some crazy pets, Chorley-born gobshite and a jack of all trades. This is who I am and it's never going to change. This month has taught me that I could no more cut any of those things out than I could cut off my own arm (well I could, but I'd feel really fucking stupid in the emergency room and every time I tried to tie my shoelaces).

For want of a better word, I feel like some kind of priestess now, I would be lying if I said I didn't feel like a dick just for writing that, but it's true, I do. I have no idea what this will mean, but at the very least, I hope I encourage more people to take up spinning.

Before leaving the tattooist's today, I ended up giving a demonstration of spinning to the tattooists and a lady that wants me to produce something arty for an art show they're having in the local area, I couldn't think of anything more apt.

"Out Of The Waters Beneath The Tree"

In times ancient or modern, the figure of the Seidrworker, has been a controversial one. In modern times, the arguments generally seem to boil down to either one of three points:

* We can't know enough about what they did to reconstruct Seidr and ergo modern Seidr is nothing more than core-Shamanism with Norse trappings.

* Why on earth are there so many Seidrworkers nowadays? They were a minority of outsiders back in the day, people who get into it only get into it because they're looking for Wicca-type stuff in Heathenry or want to feel special!

* Magic doesn't exist, we don't need that stuff anymore, we've got science!!!

In ancient times, the concerns surrounding Seidrworkers were largely (in my opinion, from read reading the various accounts of Seidrworkers interacting with communities) based around the fear that not only did this person have the potential to do things, non-physical things, to either see the future or change luck, but they also inhabited the outer yard, and who on earth would want to do that?

The world back then was quite strongly delineated between inner and outer yard, between the civilised world of men, and the wild unknown dangers of the wilderness where elves, trolls, giants and goodness knows what else might reside.(1)

However, to quote the character 'Ibn' in the movie 'The 13th Warrior', "things were not always thus", or at least, I don't think they were. This blog post is an examination of the potential origins of the Seidrworker and the sources that led me to to the conclusions I've come to during the course of my study in this field. I warn you though, this is going to be a long one, so grab yourself a drink, dive in, and I look forward to any discussions that may arise from this blog post.

Conclusion Number One: The Nature Of Worship Changed In The Heathen Period

When we moderns think about the Heathen period, we tend to think about it as some period in which there was some kind of 'overarching Heathen worldview', as a time when a huge chunk of Northern Europe worshipped gods like Odin, Thor and Frey, and goddesses like Frigga and Freyja. More of us are moving more towards the mentality of different groups having different customs and beliefs - or 'sidu' (2), of thinking more in terms of 'Heathenisms' rather than a single Heathenism. However, when it comes to thinking about changes that took place within the Heathen period to those Heathenisms, on the whole, we're a little bit behind.

Archaeological evidence from the migration period shows us one of the starkest changes to occur in the Heathen period to how, who and where people worshipped. This change must have been pivotal for the people at the time, a ginormous change in worldview, potentially rivalling that of what new people coming to Heathenry go through. A change, that I believe, laid the groundwork for the concept of inner-yard and outer-yard in terms of the how land was considered.

Before and during the migration period, we see archaeological evidence of a plethora of votive offerings made in bogs, and less commonly, human sacrifices. Rarely, we even see god and goddess pole finds, generally crude wooden posts that give a hint of gender such as that turned up at Foerlev Nymolle in Denmark.(3)

The bog, as a location for worship, is probably about as 'liminal' as a place can be (4). Not only was the bog a meeting place of earth and water, a place that wasn't quite either, and a place of mists and danger, but it was also, in a lot of ways, the lifeblood of many communities. Peat could provide fuel and building materials for warmth, marsh grasses could be woven together for rope and roofing, water fowl could provide food, and flax and nettle growing in the bog could be turned into fibers and spun for clothing.

However there came a point in the Migration period, in which those votive offerings stopped and worship moved from the wild liminal places, and into the hof (5). The nature of archaeological finds also changed around this time, becoming more martial in nature, especially around areas such as Odense (a place named for Odin) (6).

But who was being worshipped in these bogs? Perhaps the first piece of evidence that comes to mind is the following account from Tacitus's of the Nerthus ritual:

"Next to them come the Ruedigni, Aviones, Anglii, Varini, Eudoses, Suarines, and Huitones, protected by river and forests. There is nothing especially noteworthy about these states individually, but they are distinguished by a common worship of Nerthus, that is, Mother Earth, and believes that she intervenes in human affairs and rides through their peoples. There is a sacred grove on an island in the Ocean, in which there is a consecrated chariot, draped with cloth, where the priest alone may touch. He perceives the presence of the goddess in the innermost shrine and with great reverence escorts her in her chariot, which is drawn by female cattle. There are days of rejoicing then and the countryside celebrates the festival, wherever she designs to visit and to accept hospitality. No one goes to war, no one takes up arms, all objects of iron are locked away, then and only then do they experience peace and quiet, only then do they prize them, until the goddess has had her fill of human society and the priest brings her back to her temple. Afterwards the chariot, the cloth, and, if one may believe it, the deity herself are washed in a hidden lake. The slaves who perform this office are immediately swallowed up in the same lake. Hence arises dread of the mysterious, and piety, which keeps them ignorant of what only those about to perish may see."

- Tacitus Cornelius. Germania (A.R Birley Translation).

Admittedly, there are problems with this, the most glaring being that it's only describing the activities of seven tribes, worshipping a goddess whose name is male in gender. However what of other evidence? Such as the Fuerstenberg type bracteates that depict goddesses, often spinning? If the males depicted on bracteates are unanimously considered to be gods, then so the female figures must be considered goddesses (7). What too of observations based on archaeological finds of votive offerings, where they were made and who they were most likely made to? Based on such observations, the Swedish archaeologist, Anders Andren sees a connection between the type of water body and the gender of the being being offered to, with large open bodies of water being more likely to be connected to offerings to male deities and bogs/marshland more likely to contain offerings made to female deities.(8)

And what of the evidence of people and tribes? Both Erika Timm and Lotte Motz make the connection between the tribes mentioned by Tacitus and the areas of Germany where female numena have survived in folklore (often as the spouse of Wodan). (9) (10)Furthermore, these numena such as Holle, Frau Gode/Wode and Frau Herke (Perchta cannot truly be classified in this group), are all strongly linked with spinning - a theme which is reminiscent of the Oberwerschen-B bracteate, especially considering the find-provenance of the object (in a woman's grave situated next to a cultic site, under the chin of the woman, accompanied by a spindle whorl, keys, a silver needle and a knife). (11)

Several scholars (12), have put forth the theory that as peoples moved, worship moved from the land into the hof, the cult of a male god, namely Odin, came to the fore.

In a lot of ways, it makes a lot of sense for a people on the move to adopt worship that is more 'portable' and less rooted in the land, it is also natural for people to be suspicious of the wild places in new lands and to stay close to their halls, but as Terry Gunnell posited in his presentation 'Goddess of the Marshes', this change may have ultimately made it easier for the Christian conversion to take as the church replaced the hof and one sky-father replaced another. (13)

Conclusion Number Two: Seidrworkers Weren't *Just* Magic Workers - At Least Not Originally

Arguably, the archetypal Seidrworker is Gullveig/Heidr, described thus in Voluspa:

"She remembers a killing between peoples, the first in the world,

when they propped up Gullveig with spears,

and in the hall of Hárr they burned her;

three times they burned her, three times reborn,

often, not seldom, and yet she still lives.

They called her Heiðr, wherever she came to houses,

a prophetess foretelling good fortune, she laid spells on spirits;

she understood magic, practised magic in a trance;

she was always the delight of an evil bride."

Voluspa 21-22

As Heidr (Heath) was a common name for a Seidrworker, the second stanza seems to be referring to the human Seidrworkers that travelled exchanging prophecy for goods, such as the one seen in Erik the Red's Saga who exchanges hospitality in the dead of winter, in the middle of a famine for prophecy. Heidr is an inhabitant of the wild places, a denizen of the suspicious outer-yard.(14) But she also seems to have her origins in Gullveig, she seems to be that which 'still lives'. So what, or who is Gullveig?

As McKinnell points out in 'On Heidr', Gullveig is only mentioned in Voluspa and states that:

 "It seems likely that the poet may have invented Gullveig himself; if so, her meaning can only be what a contemporary audience could gather from the name. I used to think that this points towards an allegorical interpretation of her; but it is alternatively possible that the poet intended his audience to recognise in her a mythological being who usually goes by another name."

In deconstructing Gullveig's name, the 'Gull' component seems quite clear:

 "It seems that Gull- in human names normally refers to wealth or to objects made of gold, not to figurative excellence or golden colour. "

However it's the '-veig' that provides the most interesting point in terms of this post:

"The element -veig is not uncommon in female names; in verse we find Álmveig (one of the ancestresses of the Skjoldungar, in Hyndluljóð 15/5), Boðveig (said in  Sólarljóð  79/4 to be the eldest daughter of Njorðr),

Rannveig (Óláfr inn helgi, lausavísa 1/3, Kock I 110, and Málsháttakvæði  18/4 — referring to two different women, apparently both historical) and Þórveig (Kormákr, lausavísa 22b, Kock I 45). Also relevant is the

woman-kenning horveig (Víga-Glúms saga ch. 23, lausavísa 7/6, ed. Jónas Kristjánsson 81; ed. Turville-Petre 42 and notes on p. 79), where the first element means ‘flax’, ‘linen’, and clearly refers to what the woman wears; the same might be true in the name Gullveig. It is even possible that some poets regarded -veig merely as a heiti meaning ‘lady’, possibly with ancestral or Vanic connotations. Veigr also appears as a male dwarf-name (Voluspá 12/1), but the meaning here is no clearer than in the case of the female name-element. The origin of the element is uncertain. Noreen relates it to Gothic weihs ‘place’ and Latin vicus ‘village’, but this seems unhelpful (though it is historically possible),  for there is no way that a tenth-century poet could have recognised this meaning, or used it in a made-up name. Sijmons and Gering suggest that the root is that found in víg ‘war’ and Gothic weihan ‘to fight’, and this might have been more meaningful to a tenth-century poet (cf. the sword-heiti veigarr, Þula IV l 4/1, Kock I 328). Most commentators, however, have connected it with the feminine noun veig ‘alcoholic drink’, though Dronke (II 41) suggests that the poet may also have wished to draw on the sense ‘military strength’, which survives only in prose (see CV 690)."

 "On Heidr" - John McKinnell

Now this is where I diverge from Professor McKinnell's conclusions and although I see nothing wrong with them (his research is far more thorough than this blog post), there is nothing wrong with presenting other theories. I believe that the 'Aesir/Vanir' war is a reflection of the migration period upheaval as previously described in this post and that 'Gullveig', although often linked to Freyja, is potentially a physical representation of the previous, outer-yard based, 'marsh goddess' cult/s. The suggested roots of the word '-veig', to me, are reminiscent of 'Veleda', or the 'Lady with a Mead Cup' that Enright wrote of, that was considered to have within her an element of holiness and who would prophecy for the war band. If we accept the potential meaning that '-veig' is a kenning for 'lady', then when connected with 'Gull', it would mean a 'lady made out of gold', or to take that further, an idol. In terms of this meaning, a golden idol of a woman being first attacked by spears (one of the most prominent symbols of Odin), before being burned thrice, surviving and then continuing on as 'Heidr', one of the most common names for a Seidrworker, seems like a poetic remembrance of the migration period change. However strangely enough, in linking 'Gullveig' to 'gold', it's almost like there was still some respect when it came to this 'Gullveig' figure, just as there is in the various terms used to refer to Grendel's mother in Beowulf. (15)

As the most-worshipped, and arguably the most 'contrary' of the goddesses when it came to male will (a trait she shares with the various Seidrworkers in the sources that have hostility and animosity with a male figure that also threatens them), Freyja is a natural candidate for being equated with the figure of 'Gullveig', and it is often the case that she is. However I would argue that she and Frigg are like two sides of the same coin, that were separated at some point in the past as society moved from a more agrarian and settled existence, to a more militaristic one.

In the older manuscript of the Konnungsbok, the origin of Seidrworkers is given as being from 'out of the waters beneath the tree', but could those waters not be the bogs of Northern Europe and the 'tree', the very naturalistic idols such as the one found at Foerlev Nymolle?

In short, is it not possible that Seidrworkers had their origins as priestess/seeresses in this/these earlier cults to (a) goddess/es?

Conclusion Number Three: Seidr Isn't What A Lot Of People Now Think It Is

In terms of the sources and evidence concerning Seidr, we know that it was a form of magic performed in trance (leikin) (16); we also know that these Seidrworkers were considered to be able to do certain things, such as affect the luck of another, manipulate perception and weather, call up the dead, and prophecy (17); we know they worked from high places (be they high seats or mounds) (18); and we also know that Seidrworkers often had staffs (19). These areas are not ones where you'll find much disagreement. However, *how* they worked their magic, the process and interpretation that we have now for those acts, I would argue, is wrong.

Typically speaking, a lot of modern Seidr functions in accordance with the Hrafnar method, that is to say, the Seidrworker sits on a high seat, goes into a trance and travels to Hel in search of answers. Although some may consider this to work for them in their communities (and all power to you if you're one of those folks and you feel it does), I would argue that not only is this method fundamentally flawed in terms of the wider view of the worldview that it's supposed to belong to, but that the sources themselves do not back this up as an authentic method.

So what methods do I think were employed?

1. The use of 'enticement songs' in order to entice and then question the wights.

In Erik the Red's saga, Thorbjorg asks Gudrun to sing the Vardlokkur, and comments that "she had attracted many spirits there who thought it lovely to lend ear to the chant-- spirits 'who before wished to hold aloof from us, and pay us no heed. And now many things stand revealed to me which earlier were hidden from me as from others."

2. Manipulation of the Hamr/Scinn in order to affect perception, to damage the 'haelu' of a person, to learn things from far away and as a form of battle magic.(20)

3. The sending forth of a spun 'Gandus/Gondull'.

To quote Eldar Heide in his paper 'Spinning Seidr':

"My studies on gandr have been a gateway to this view. In several sources, gandr is a designation of such a mind-in-shape emissary that the seiðr performer could send forth. This is evident in the description of the Saami noaidi séance in Historia Norwegie (60–63), and is the most reasonable interpretation also in Fóstbrœðra saga (243), Þiðriks saga (303–04) and Þorsteins þáttr bœjarmagns (76). Several of the early eighteenth-century sources for Saami religion also support this view (Heide 2002:77ff). The word gandr is still in use in Norwegian and Icelandic, and modern Icelandic also has retained the derivative gondull, as göndull. Some of the meanings of these words connect them with spinning. In Modern Icelandic, göndull may mean ‘coarse yarn’ and other twisted items (Sigfús Blöndal 920:282). Gand in modern Northern Norwegian may mean ‘spinning top propelled by a string’ (Aasen 873:207), which closely resembles a spindle twirling on the floor (using a certain spinning technique). These or related meanings of gandr/gand and g ̨ndull/göndull probably existed in Old Norse, as there was not much contact between Northern Norway and Iceland after the Middle Ages.If so, the “spinning” or “twisting” meanings of gand/göndull suggest that the mind emissary that the seiðr performer could send forth could be conceived as something spun or spinning. "

(Also see Yvonne Bonnetain 'Riding the Tree'.)

It is worth noting here that all three types of magic were performed in trance, and it goes without saying that the parallel between a spun form of magic and the Oberwerschen bracteate/burial goods of the 'priestess/seeress' is interesting. Unfortunately, very few nowadays can spin to a high enough standard that they can go into a deep enough trance while doing it to attempt anything like creating a gandr. I have been working on it for a couple of years now, and I'm not there, but there's nothing to feel ashamed about in this. As modern people, the majority of us women in the Western world don't grow up spinning. We don't start from childhood and spend hours every day practicing. Most Heathens, even women, don't even understand how the spindle could be considered sacred, and I find this sad.

I appreciate that this blog post has been very long, it's taken me around 3-4 hours to put down the ideas that have been whirling around my head for the past few weeks, and it's by no means a complete theory. I really hope for feedback, and to start a dialogue on this whole thing, I really want to see where this goes. But I really hope that at the least, more ladies pick up a spindle ;).

Sources (page numbers not given because this is a blog post and not a scholarly paper and after almost 4 hours of writing, I'm done, so nuh!)

1. L.M.C Weston - Women's Medicine, Women's Magic: The Old English Metrical Childbirth Charms

2. Josh Rood - Establishing The Innangard: Some Concepts Relating To Custom, Morality, And Religion. (Odroerir issue 2 http://odroerirjournal.com/?wpfb_dl=2)

3. P.V. Glob - The Bog People

4. Eldar Heide - Holy Islands and the Otherworld

5. Terry Gunnell - Goddess of the Marshes (presentation)

6. Ibid

7. Michael J Enright - The Goddess Who Weaves

8. Terry Gunnell - Goddess of the Marshes (presentation)

9. Erika Timm - Frau Holle, Frau Percht, und verwandte Gestalten

10. Lotte Motz - The Goddess Nerthus: A New Approach

11. Michael J Enright - The Goddess Who Weaves

12. Terry Gunnell and Erika Timm

13. Terry Gunnell - Goddess of the Marshes

14. John McKinnell - On Heidr

15. Hilda Ellis Davidson - Roles of the Northern Goddess

16. John McKinnell - On Heidr

17. Ynglinga Saga Cha. 7

18. John McKinnell- On Heidr

19. Eldar Heide & Lesek Gardela

20. Katla from Eyrbyggja Saga Cha. 20 is one example of this.

October (UPG warning)

This past week has been one of significant changes in my life, in fact, in some ways the entire month of October is promising to be one long...I dunno... rite of passage?

The most striking thing to me so far is that this month of changes is going to be framed by blood at both the beginning and end. Last Tuesday (the second day of the month) I started my tattoo of dedication to Frija. Again, not really sure what else to call this tattoo, or how to explain just what it means to me. Language can be so clumsy, and wordhoards so unyielding, that I guess 'dedication' will have to do. I spent four hours in the chair, getting a tattoo that's big enough to be a half sleeve and need to go back to complete it on the final day of October.

The day after the tattoo was begun, I left my job, and my husband and I began the process of moving up north to a different town.

I couldn't be happier to get out of the place we were in. Quite frankly, it was *unhael*, the land itself felt angry, and it affected the people there. I have never lived around so many stomach complaints, or in so small a place with so many funeral parlours per head of population. For my own part, I had problems breathing, no energy and just felt depressed a lot. One day when sitting at the bus stop, this lady that was having a mental crisis came and sat next to me. She told me about how she'd lost her baby, how the father of the baby had left her, how she'd shoplifted some baby clothes that morning, how she wished her ex would talk to her and then she began ranting about how the village where we were was held together with pain and suffering. As logically unsound as all of that is, I really can't disagree with her.

The house we've moved to and the town we now live in is the polar opposite, not only does it feel *hael*, but strangely familiar in a way. I can feel something in the air here that is so familiar and exciting to me and that makes me happy. I can breathe better here, have more energy and feel more positive. Our animals are *much* happier and not just because of the garden.

Weirdly, all of our furniture and decor seems to match this house perfectly too, even though it was mostly bought on another continent. This place, even though we moved in two days ago, is already more home than the previous place was after a year. What's more, this place has wights, active ones that both my 'I'll ignore anything weird at all costs' husband and I have seen. One looks like a cat and the other is a previous resident that inhabits the workbench area of the basement. At first, he can be a little intimidating, but doesn't mean to scare people or animals. When I first went down there, I felt scared, but after muttering under my breath about creepy American basements and horror movies, the atmosphere changed, warmed up and now it's fine. When the cats arrived and we put them in the basement while we moved in, they hid under the workbench in the and had to be dragged out because they were so scared of being down there. I had a bit of a word, asked him to be nice to them and now they go down without any problems.

And as weird as this all sounds, as someone that grew up in a home in which things most definitely go bump in the night, this is far more homey and welcoming to me than a place with nothing there. Like the old place, or the soulless military housing before that.

So October is a time of changes, but I can't help but get the feeling that I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be.