When I was growing up, I grew up with the concept of something called the 'jinx house'. Certain houses in my local area were known to be unlucky for people to live there. Bad things would happen to everyone that lived in those buildings and strangely enough, they seemed to always follow a theme. The house next door to my parent's house was one such house and people would quite literally stop taking care of themselves and destroy themselves unless someone stepped in. Another house in the locality is known for everyone who lives there getting into either messed up love affairs that mess them up or losing their relationships. Divorce after divorce after divorce.
As a child growing up with quite an acute awareness of the seen and the unseen worlds, this presented quite a unique set of challenges for my parents. I would see people in my room at night all the time and would scream the house down. I hated everything about those things, I hated the way the room would look different and then the cold that would sweep in and then the glimpses of things starting to appear (if I hadn't already ran out by then). Even worse was when something would just be there when I turned round. Things got so bad that I couldn't sleep without the dog in the room because I was just too scared. As I've previously mentioned, my father's family background has a strong spiritualist vein and he would try to explain things to me, tell me not to be afraid, that nothing could hurt me and that nothing bad could stay in our house because of all the love that our family had.
And it's true. I'm not trying to paint a picture of some kind of halcyon childhood but my parents did their utmost to do their best for me. They still do and I love them dearly. We still had a lot of ups and downs during my childhood, well that's just life, isn't it? But our family was very loving and our house was a very loving and happy environment. It's still the kind of house where you walk in and you're instantly comfortable, feeling safe and welcome.
When I was younger, I thought my dad's explanation about love being the key to keeping out horrible things was simplistic and 'fluffy', but during my time moving around and now, living in Army accommodation, I've found he was absolutely right.I live in a place of soul-less buildings, where transitory people, some with very little love in their lives, some with extreme psychological and emotional disturbances, some with horrible circumstances and some with all of the above live. Sometimes it feels as though the walls may as well be made from tears and anger.
Needless to say I have to work hard to keep our apartment cocooned from this. A lot of the things I do now are ingrained into my house cleaning routine and practices and done as a matter of course. My husband and I also have a very strong relationship but I think these buildings will be spoiled for years. I think if we were to live here for the next 50 years, it would still feel the same as now.
Naturally these places attract wights that aren't so nice and unfortunately they stick because there's nothing to prevent them from sticking. This seems to be worse in the barracks where the single soldiers live. These buildings are 'jinx houses', all of them. If you add someone in there with any level of sensitivity or openness to things beyond the mundane world, things really get crazy.
One of my husband's friends is going through this at the moment and it looks like we'll be going round to take a look and clear whatever it is.
I've cleared a few houses in my time and advised on plenty more, it's something people seem to come to me for and have done for years. Each case is different, with different origins, different factors, different behaviours and different 'cures'. I've come across everything from the terrifying to the tragic, to the almost comical in a really unintended way.
When a clearing has been successful, it's a wonderful feeling. The air feels so light, like you can breath again and it's like this 'lifting' that happens and continues to happen as the effects of the nastiness wear off over the course of a few days and peace is restored.
Unfortunately, because of the way these buildings are, if I were to get rid of the wights(using the word in the 'being with movement' sense) that are scaring him, the chances are that the best outcome I could hope for in this case would be a sense of emptiness.
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
Saturday, July 10, 2010
Tracing Back The Strands
I stand at the tree in the place
and I weave
The wind whips up, the rain comes down
Yet still I weave
I watch the weave grow, I chant
My fingers work
I'm wet and I'm cold
Yet I still work
It seems dark there in that high place
As I call out my wishes to the wind
I take the magic, gather it up
Then weave it all in
When it's done I take the cord
Apple tree to hand
The wind drops, the rain calms
We give our thanks to the land
Weeks later I found
What I wove had come to pass
It didn't work out how I'd wanted
I should have wove better than that
Instead of a panicked attempt
Of weaving on a train
When I made everything all the worse for me
To keep what could not be saved
I should have known better
But the stakes were too high for me
I'd tried to work against wyrd
But had I not, what kind of a mother would I have been?
and I weave
The wind whips up, the rain comes down
Yet still I weave
I watch the weave grow, I chant
My fingers work
I'm wet and I'm cold
Yet I still work
It seems dark there in that high place
As I call out my wishes to the wind
I take the magic, gather it up
Then weave it all in
When it's done I take the cord
Apple tree to hand
The wind drops, the rain calms
We give our thanks to the land
Weeks later I found
What I wove had come to pass
It didn't work out how I'd wanted
I should have wove better than that
Instead of a panicked attempt
Of weaving on a train
When I made everything all the worse for me
To keep what could not be saved
I should have known better
But the stakes were too high for me
I'd tried to work against wyrd
But had I not, what kind of a mother would I have been?
Friday, July 9, 2010
Remember, Mugwort!!!
I'm walking around a place called the Druidenhain. It may or may not have been a place where the druids worshipped but it's special all the same. There's an energy here, a vibe that you don't often find outside of the British Isles. It's never truly 'clear' here. It's hazy in a way that even my 'ignore everything possibly spooky' husband can't deny and things move around you.
You're never truly alone here but it's comfortable all the same.
The forest is welcoming in parts and forbidding in others. A mixture of 'good neighbourhoods' and 'bad'. The trees move here too, come to recline on rocks and if you look for long enough, sometimes you catch their faces in the bark. Most of them are nice but others are not so but I hold my ground all the same, sit on a rock and tell them that I'm not going to be a problem to them. I've come a long way.
People come here too, to do things not so dissimilar to what I do. They bend birch trees into living archways, leave offerings and write runes in the moss. So I tread with caution. These things are familiar and so I make sure I'm protected because who knows what I could trip off in a moment of carelessness? I use the archways as viewing places, I sit on a rock and sit so I can see both through an archway and normally too. Sometimes I see figures moving quickly. Small, some transparent and only able to be seen by the distortion of 'pixels' that they produce when they move, others strangely blue and others are small, black, shadow beings. It doesn't surprise me that they are there, those things are drawn to power. The blue one I'm not so sure of, but the others, yes.
I walk around and find nine different sticks, these are going to be used later.
I go to the place where I drummed the last time I came to the Druidenhain. When the song of my drum rang out loud and clear over the thudding of the beats. It'd been such a long time since I'd played my drum, I'd forgotten how beautiful a song he has.
I sit down and I mentally pull at the surrounding area. They're shy but soon my head begins to swim as I chant silently in German. I tell them I have nothing but respect for them and to please show themselves. I need more time but I don't have it. My friend's dog is getting restless and the others want to leave the place in which I could quite happily stay a whole day and so I take what I have and we make offerings to the land spirits of the forest.
After the blot, I take some private time and turn to go to a hidden place but not before a stick stops me. My husband says he hasn't a clue where it came from because it wasn't there before but it's just the right height for me and so I pick it up. I then bury the past. That particular past with a bit of work could help the area and the wights. What was my mistake could be their help.
We leave and I take my new stick. At home I notice carvings on the length of the staff and I'm not sure because of what others may have done and so I brew up mugwort just in case. I tell the herb to remember its words at the council and to use its power to help me, I sing the words onto the staff and make sure to breathe them onto the wood to give them life and then I sing runes. I guess only time will tell.
You're never truly alone here but it's comfortable all the same.
The forest is welcoming in parts and forbidding in others. A mixture of 'good neighbourhoods' and 'bad'. The trees move here too, come to recline on rocks and if you look for long enough, sometimes you catch their faces in the bark. Most of them are nice but others are not so but I hold my ground all the same, sit on a rock and tell them that I'm not going to be a problem to them. I've come a long way.
People come here too, to do things not so dissimilar to what I do. They bend birch trees into living archways, leave offerings and write runes in the moss. So I tread with caution. These things are familiar and so I make sure I'm protected because who knows what I could trip off in a moment of carelessness? I use the archways as viewing places, I sit on a rock and sit so I can see both through an archway and normally too. Sometimes I see figures moving quickly. Small, some transparent and only able to be seen by the distortion of 'pixels' that they produce when they move, others strangely blue and others are small, black, shadow beings. It doesn't surprise me that they are there, those things are drawn to power. The blue one I'm not so sure of, but the others, yes.
I walk around and find nine different sticks, these are going to be used later.
I go to the place where I drummed the last time I came to the Druidenhain. When the song of my drum rang out loud and clear over the thudding of the beats. It'd been such a long time since I'd played my drum, I'd forgotten how beautiful a song he has.
I sit down and I mentally pull at the surrounding area. They're shy but soon my head begins to swim as I chant silently in German. I tell them I have nothing but respect for them and to please show themselves. I need more time but I don't have it. My friend's dog is getting restless and the others want to leave the place in which I could quite happily stay a whole day and so I take what I have and we make offerings to the land spirits of the forest.
After the blot, I take some private time and turn to go to a hidden place but not before a stick stops me. My husband says he hasn't a clue where it came from because it wasn't there before but it's just the right height for me and so I pick it up. I then bury the past. That particular past with a bit of work could help the area and the wights. What was my mistake could be their help.
We leave and I take my new stick. At home I notice carvings on the length of the staff and I'm not sure because of what others may have done and so I brew up mugwort just in case. I tell the herb to remember its words at the council and to use its power to help me, I sing the words onto the staff and make sure to breathe them onto the wood to give them life and then I sing runes. I guess only time will tell.
Thursday, March 25, 2010
The Neubuerg Myth
From 'Es Spukt in Franken' by Michael Prottel:
Neubürg was once known as the Home of Wotan. The nordic Allfather used to hold a council of the Gods every year between the twelve holy nights between Christmas and Epithany. There, all the Gods of the Germans would come together on Neubürg. They would sit on the mountain in golden thrones and were adorned with stars that they had brought down from the heavens. If the Gods had need of entertainment, then they would go hunting in Wotan's woods. As serving-folk, Wotan had twelve dwarves that lived inside the mountain. Aside from those dwarves, there were also twelve fiery men and twelve flower spirits that would stand at the side of his throne.
Every year at the Summer solstice, the Germans would make a pilgrimage there and would camp all the way round the base of the mountain. Only the priestess of Wotan alone lived upon the mountain. During the cultic festivals she would stand above them all upon the plateau and pray with raised hands to the father of the Gods. The Germans would then make a long procession in silence past the priestess. She would wander around the Neubürg seven times and invoke the blessing of the God. When they heard the roar of a storm, then it was believed that Wotan was approaching and everyone would throw themselves to the ground. They used to also believe that Wotan had buried his treasure inside the mountain however not one of the German Heathens would put touch spade to holy earth in search of those riches.
The last priestess of Wotan at Neuburg was called Wonnefried and she was a very devout woman. In her youth she had taken a vow of chastity in spite of being a very attractive woman. Every day at sunrise, she would pray to the heavens and at night she was the last person to make a circuit of Neuburg.
One year at the solstice festival, a man called Edron arrived at Wotan's mountain and almost as soon as the proud warrior saw Wonnefried, he fell in love with the priestess. After the festival, instead of moving off with the other tribespeople, he set up camp in a forest at the foot of the mountain. Each day the suitor would try and win the favour of Wonnefried. Wonnefried prayed to Wotan who wanted to give her the the strength to overcome this temptation. However she also came to be moved by Edron and so eventually allowed him to stay at her side if he also made a pledge of abstinence. Edron did so willingly and so the former warrior became priest at the side of the priestess. Often would they sit hand in hand at Wotan's altar worshipping the Allfather together.
Unfortunately this was not to last.
One day the first Christians came from the West trying through either words or other means of coercion to force the Germans to renounce their Gods. When the priestess heard that a tribe had sworn loyalty to the opponent of Wotan, she wanted to crush them at their heart and so convinced her friend Edron to lead an army of faithful against the Christians. Because of the circumstances, Wotan allowed them to give up their vows of chastity.
Edron strapped on his sword and hastily gathered the devotees of the old religion. However the Christians were already more numerous and the battle was already lost. Wonnefried and Edron mourned the many fallen, most of whom were followers of the old ways.
Then a rumour reached the priests of the old ways that the Christians would be coming in the following days to destroy the great altar of Wotan. In response, Wonnefried carried out the holy rites for the last time before embracing Edron and going with him to the highest stone on the highest side of the mountain. There the lovers kissed for the final time, entrusted their souls to Wotan and threw themselves off the mountain. The next morning, the Christians came and found their opponents lying dead on a rock, crowned with flowers placed there covertly during the night by followers of the old ways. Unmoved, the Christian priests destroyed Wotan's altar in the bright sunshine, throwing down the stones of the mountain.
Neubürg was once known as the Home of Wotan. The nordic Allfather used to hold a council of the Gods every year between the twelve holy nights between Christmas and Epithany. There, all the Gods of the Germans would come together on Neubürg. They would sit on the mountain in golden thrones and were adorned with stars that they had brought down from the heavens. If the Gods had need of entertainment, then they would go hunting in Wotan's woods. As serving-folk, Wotan had twelve dwarves that lived inside the mountain. Aside from those dwarves, there were also twelve fiery men and twelve flower spirits that would stand at the side of his throne.
Every year at the Summer solstice, the Germans would make a pilgrimage there and would camp all the way round the base of the mountain. Only the priestess of Wotan alone lived upon the mountain. During the cultic festivals she would stand above them all upon the plateau and pray with raised hands to the father of the Gods. The Germans would then make a long procession in silence past the priestess. She would wander around the Neubürg seven times and invoke the blessing of the God. When they heard the roar of a storm, then it was believed that Wotan was approaching and everyone would throw themselves to the ground. They used to also believe that Wotan had buried his treasure inside the mountain however not one of the German Heathens would put touch spade to holy earth in search of those riches.
The last priestess of Wotan at Neuburg was called Wonnefried and she was a very devout woman. In her youth she had taken a vow of chastity in spite of being a very attractive woman. Every day at sunrise, she would pray to the heavens and at night she was the last person to make a circuit of Neuburg.
One year at the solstice festival, a man called Edron arrived at Wotan's mountain and almost as soon as the proud warrior saw Wonnefried, he fell in love with the priestess. After the festival, instead of moving off with the other tribespeople, he set up camp in a forest at the foot of the mountain. Each day the suitor would try and win the favour of Wonnefried. Wonnefried prayed to Wotan who wanted to give her the the strength to overcome this temptation. However she also came to be moved by Edron and so eventually allowed him to stay at her side if he also made a pledge of abstinence. Edron did so willingly and so the former warrior became priest at the side of the priestess. Often would they sit hand in hand at Wotan's altar worshipping the Allfather together.
Unfortunately this was not to last.
One day the first Christians came from the West trying through either words or other means of coercion to force the Germans to renounce their Gods. When the priestess heard that a tribe had sworn loyalty to the opponent of Wotan, she wanted to crush them at their heart and so convinced her friend Edron to lead an army of faithful against the Christians. Because of the circumstances, Wotan allowed them to give up their vows of chastity.
Edron strapped on his sword and hastily gathered the devotees of the old religion. However the Christians were already more numerous and the battle was already lost. Wonnefried and Edron mourned the many fallen, most of whom were followers of the old ways.
Then a rumour reached the priests of the old ways that the Christians would be coming in the following days to destroy the great altar of Wotan. In response, Wonnefried carried out the holy rites for the last time before embracing Edron and going with him to the highest stone on the highest side of the mountain. There the lovers kissed for the final time, entrusted their souls to Wotan and threw themselves off the mountain. The next morning, the Christians came and found their opponents lying dead on a rock, crowned with flowers placed there covertly during the night by followers of the old ways. Unmoved, the Christian priests destroyed Wotan's altar in the bright sunshine, throwing down the stones of the mountain.
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
Ostara
On Sunday, my husband and I packed the dog into the car and took off to Neubuerg, partly to celebrate Ostara but mostly to just go back to the place and make offerings there because it's become a very spiritual place for J and I.
Neubuerg is a hill, a rather large 'tabletop' hill that overlooks villages, farmland and forests. Dotted throughout the landscape are the type of rock formations that seem to epitomise Franconian Switzerland. Naturally, as with all these hills, Neubuerg is steeped in folklore and its stories speak of a time when the tribes used to come from miles around to worship at what was then, a place of council for the Gods. There upon the mighty Neubuerg would the high priestess of Woden make her devotions to the God on behalf of the tribes and according to the local myths, it was like this year and and year out until the Christians came.
Neubuerg is a place where I feel such belonging and connection, there is such peace to be had there, such a sense of life and vibrancy. Admittedly not something normally connected with Woden but through Neubuerg I'm learning new aspects of a God that has inspired me for years.
On Sunday it was raining up there, but we didn't care because we had come prepared for it and it meant that the Christians were more likely to stay at home. You see, this is the interesting thing about Neubuerg - one of the ways the high priestess used to worship Woden was by making a circuit of the top of the hill. Nowadays there is art up there that is suspiciously Odin/Woden oriented and it's a popular walking spot. Christians come to Neubuerg and walk the circuit around the top without knowing that they're following the tradition of those Pagan priestesses many years ago.
We were alone on Neubuerg, gloriously alone, only us and the dog and so we went to the place where we make offerings to the Allfather - a wonderfully atmospheric apple tree. J and I made offerings and then I tied a ribbon on the tree to honour the spirit, offered amber and then wove a spell upon the tree. While I was weaving the threads and singing, the wind rose. It was primal, it was wild and it was like being listened to. After I finished the wind calmed and we went to the second place to make offerings before heading back down the hill and home.
Neubuerg is a hill, a rather large 'tabletop' hill that overlooks villages, farmland and forests. Dotted throughout the landscape are the type of rock formations that seem to epitomise Franconian Switzerland. Naturally, as with all these hills, Neubuerg is steeped in folklore and its stories speak of a time when the tribes used to come from miles around to worship at what was then, a place of council for the Gods. There upon the mighty Neubuerg would the high priestess of Woden make her devotions to the God on behalf of the tribes and according to the local myths, it was like this year and and year out until the Christians came.
Neubuerg is a place where I feel such belonging and connection, there is such peace to be had there, such a sense of life and vibrancy. Admittedly not something normally connected with Woden but through Neubuerg I'm learning new aspects of a God that has inspired me for years.
On Sunday it was raining up there, but we didn't care because we had come prepared for it and it meant that the Christians were more likely to stay at home. You see, this is the interesting thing about Neubuerg - one of the ways the high priestess used to worship Woden was by making a circuit of the top of the hill. Nowadays there is art up there that is suspiciously Odin/Woden oriented and it's a popular walking spot. Christians come to Neubuerg and walk the circuit around the top without knowing that they're following the tradition of those Pagan priestesses many years ago.
We were alone on Neubuerg, gloriously alone, only us and the dog and so we went to the place where we make offerings to the Allfather - a wonderfully atmospheric apple tree. J and I made offerings and then I tied a ribbon on the tree to honour the spirit, offered amber and then wove a spell upon the tree. While I was weaving the threads and singing, the wind rose. It was primal, it was wild and it was like being listened to. After I finished the wind calmed and we went to the second place to make offerings before heading back down the hill and home.
Thursday, February 25, 2010
Seidr and Soul
Imagine you're standing on the surface of the moon, looking across at the earth, all seas, continents and clouds. Imagine that you'd arrived from a distant world and your impressions of this world were based on the Voyager golden records from 1977 that you'd found floating aimlessly beyond the reaches of the solar system. Those impressions, while purporting to depict life on earth, are the product of one culture. Kind of like their version of life on earth as seen through their unique cultural lens.
You decide to look closer and start with the continent that's the most featured in the records - America. There is differentiation and some confusion because of that. Then you decide to look to the other cultures of the earth and find more differentiation - not everything is as uniform as it initially seemed. Some places are more interesting to you and so you decide to look closer and get subculture upon subculture upon subculture. You think of the records you found in that poor, rickety,aimless satellite and in some ways you feel sad that that's all others will see. In other ways though, you feel deceived.
That's how I feel about the Heathen community and especially Seidr. You have all your well-known folk, the people that make names for each other and write all the books - the Voyager golden records - if you will. Some of these are better than others. People flock to these, they flock to the Hrafnar method as if it's the only way of doing things and these people and the people they endorse are the only people that are capable of doing it.
But if only they would look further, they would find something much more interesting.
It's not a secret how I feel about the Hrafnar method. It goes something along these lines - cool if it works for you but please just own up and admit that it's basically Michael Harner 'core Shamanism' techniques with Northern European trappings overlaid rather uncomfortably on top.
This is the loud, this is the Voyager golden record of Seidr.
Out there, there are many Seidrfolk. Some have vaguely similar methods, others have vastly different methods. Like tiny lights in the darkness as seen from an aeroplane window at night. On different continents, with different cultures, backgrounds and speaking different languages.
My Seidr cannot be like the Seidr practised by an American or a Dane or a Norwegian simply because we are not the same. We do not come from the same land, the same blood, the same background or the same culture. It makes me sad that there's almost this kind of 'standardised' Seidr out there. What then of the real training of Seidr? That of walking the land, of dealing with the dead and the wights, of honouring tradition, of feeling things 'shift' and seeing where that shift will take you, of ecstasy and fear and sacrifice and joy? What then? Is it all to be swallowed up by the High seat? I'd take the mysteries of the burial mound anyday!
That brings me onto the soul. Another part of this 'Voyager golden record version' of Seidr is this idea of a 'soul complex', of a soul made up of many different parts when there is nothing to suggest that that idea is any older than the 70s. This wouldn't be a problem were it not for people acting as though it was some kind of divinely revealed truth and 'how dare you question it?'
Now I don't claim to know what the soul is or have a special handle on the truth. I was very convinced by non-dualism for a while but that doesn't fit with all the experiences I've had in the past - if anything it restricted me. If there is one 'truth' that Seidrworkers must accept, it's that the world is created by mind or what would be the point of doing any magic in the first place?
Belief is so important, belief opens doors but society makes us afraid to walk through them. We're constantly fed the importance of being 'normal' and having a grip on 'reality'. But you know what? While I'm the first person to laugh at someone saying that they saw the goddess Hela hanging out during the Black Death in a former life, I also keep in mind all the things that people believed to be true, were considered insane but were proven to exist by science years later. I guess it's a fine line - isn't everything?
I've mentioned it before but there is an interesting link between sanity and Woden/Odin, the God that constantly searches for Truth. We know the word 'Wodnesdaeg' in modern English as 'Wednesday'. Originally it was 'Woden's Day'. A word for insanity in Old English was 'Wodnes'. I found that interesting. It reminds me of something a Greek woman once told me about crazy people being those that were shown the door to the Truth ™ and were too afraid to step through. Instead of being made whole, they were driven crazy by what they knew and saw. They lost the 'middle-wise' ability to live a happy life.
But anyway - back to the soul and how I don't really know how to consider it anymore. No theory I've come across fits for me. I can't bring myself to believe in reincarnation, or soul parts and I absolutely don't believe that a person can be possessed unless they are complicit in that possession. I suppose it's just something that I can't name that goes along with my hamr (astral skin) and physical body as part of the package that is 'me'.
Thankfully for the extraterrestrial visitor, there will be commonalities to find across the board and in Seidr that commonality is trance. The ability to go into various types of trances.
For me, music has always been an important part of that and chanting combined with an Anglo Saxon narrative style charm usually sends me off. Music is magical. When I was studying psychology at college, we learned that brain scans had revealed that more parts of the brain were engaged while listening to music than during any other activity...period. Music can anger, bring peace or joy, can depress or lift a soul (whatever that is ) to the highest heights. Music takes us to memories, feelings and deities. Hell, according to string theory the universe itself is like some kind of gigantic orchestra of strings all oscillating at different frequencies.
If then that is the case, does it not make complete sense that so many forms of magic are linked to music in some form? Follow the theory through at its most basic level and you come to the startling idea that if you somehow can change the oscillation frequency of the particles then you can change the object itself.
Pure magic.
You decide to look closer and start with the continent that's the most featured in the records - America. There is differentiation and some confusion because of that. Then you decide to look to the other cultures of the earth and find more differentiation - not everything is as uniform as it initially seemed. Some places are more interesting to you and so you decide to look closer and get subculture upon subculture upon subculture. You think of the records you found in that poor, rickety,aimless satellite and in some ways you feel sad that that's all others will see. In other ways though, you feel deceived.
That's how I feel about the Heathen community and especially Seidr. You have all your well-known folk, the people that make names for each other and write all the books - the Voyager golden records - if you will. Some of these are better than others. People flock to these, they flock to the Hrafnar method as if it's the only way of doing things and these people and the people they endorse are the only people that are capable of doing it.
But if only they would look further, they would find something much more interesting.
It's not a secret how I feel about the Hrafnar method. It goes something along these lines - cool if it works for you but please just own up and admit that it's basically Michael Harner 'core Shamanism' techniques with Northern European trappings overlaid rather uncomfortably on top.
This is the loud, this is the Voyager golden record of Seidr.
Out there, there are many Seidrfolk. Some have vaguely similar methods, others have vastly different methods. Like tiny lights in the darkness as seen from an aeroplane window at night. On different continents, with different cultures, backgrounds and speaking different languages.
My Seidr cannot be like the Seidr practised by an American or a Dane or a Norwegian simply because we are not the same. We do not come from the same land, the same blood, the same background or the same culture. It makes me sad that there's almost this kind of 'standardised' Seidr out there. What then of the real training of Seidr? That of walking the land, of dealing with the dead and the wights, of honouring tradition, of feeling things 'shift' and seeing where that shift will take you, of ecstasy and fear and sacrifice and joy? What then? Is it all to be swallowed up by the High seat? I'd take the mysteries of the burial mound anyday!
That brings me onto the soul. Another part of this 'Voyager golden record version' of Seidr is this idea of a 'soul complex', of a soul made up of many different parts when there is nothing to suggest that that idea is any older than the 70s. This wouldn't be a problem were it not for people acting as though it was some kind of divinely revealed truth and 'how dare you question it?'
Now I don't claim to know what the soul is or have a special handle on the truth. I was very convinced by non-dualism for a while but that doesn't fit with all the experiences I've had in the past - if anything it restricted me. If there is one 'truth' that Seidrworkers must accept, it's that the world is created by mind or what would be the point of doing any magic in the first place?
Belief is so important, belief opens doors but society makes us afraid to walk through them. We're constantly fed the importance of being 'normal' and having a grip on 'reality'. But you know what? While I'm the first person to laugh at someone saying that they saw the goddess Hela hanging out during the Black Death in a former life, I also keep in mind all the things that people believed to be true, were considered insane but were proven to exist by science years later. I guess it's a fine line - isn't everything?
I've mentioned it before but there is an interesting link between sanity and Woden/Odin, the God that constantly searches for Truth. We know the word 'Wodnesdaeg' in modern English as 'Wednesday'. Originally it was 'Woden's Day'. A word for insanity in Old English was 'Wodnes'. I found that interesting. It reminds me of something a Greek woman once told me about crazy people being those that were shown the door to the Truth ™ and were too afraid to step through. Instead of being made whole, they were driven crazy by what they knew and saw. They lost the 'middle-wise' ability to live a happy life.
But anyway - back to the soul and how I don't really know how to consider it anymore. No theory I've come across fits for me. I can't bring myself to believe in reincarnation, or soul parts and I absolutely don't believe that a person can be possessed unless they are complicit in that possession. I suppose it's just something that I can't name that goes along with my hamr (astral skin) and physical body as part of the package that is 'me'.
Thankfully for the extraterrestrial visitor, there will be commonalities to find across the board and in Seidr that commonality is trance. The ability to go into various types of trances.
For me, music has always been an important part of that and chanting combined with an Anglo Saxon narrative style charm usually sends me off. Music is magical. When I was studying psychology at college, we learned that brain scans had revealed that more parts of the brain were engaged while listening to music than during any other activity...period. Music can anger, bring peace or joy, can depress or lift a soul (whatever that is ) to the highest heights. Music takes us to memories, feelings and deities. Hell, according to string theory the universe itself is like some kind of gigantic orchestra of strings all oscillating at different frequencies.
If then that is the case, does it not make complete sense that so many forms of magic are linked to music in some form? Follow the theory through at its most basic level and you come to the startling idea that if you somehow can change the oscillation frequency of the particles then you can change the object itself.
Pure magic.
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