Here We Have Stood, Here We Stand

It can’t be said enough.

Sarenth Odinsson's Blog

When people ask where the Heathens and Northern Tradition Pagans are denouncing racism, I will remind folks there’s plenty of us that have been here, for years, doing just that.

Let me be clear: The Valknut is not theirs. Mjölnir is not theirs. The Runes are not theirs. The Valknut is Odin’s. Mjölnir is Thor’s. The Runes are Their own, symbols of the very vaettir (spirits) of Creation who were in the Ginnungagap (Yawning Mouth, Primal Void) until Odin died, sacrifice of Himself to Himself, took Them up and brought Them forth. These are sacred. When white nationalists take up these symbols, use them to further their ideology, to further their brand of hate, they appropriate them and denigrate them.

Fuck the racists, the Nazis, and the white nationalists who take up symbols of the Gods, the Ancestors, the Runevaettir, the vaettir, and the ways within the Northern Tradition…

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Strange verses

When I was a child, I was told that my father wrote poetry. Strange poetry, my mother said, that no one can understand. He’s not very good, she said. It’s all just very strange.

I never really knew my father. I never read his poetry.

Yet here I am, writing strange verses. They aren’t very good, I am sure my mother would say. Because it is all very strange, and no one understands them.

So apparently

So apparently I am a racist. I stand for everyone’s equal value regardless of skin colour. I don’t give a fuck if you are black or white, we are all just humans, and I do not believe the gods judge you differently because of your race. That’s the gist of what I said in a recent blog post, written with the sole purpose of declaring my anti-racist stance.

Now someone calling themselves a militant negro has picked up that blog post and pointed me out as a racist, because of what I wrote. Apparently not differentiating between black and white means I disrespect him. He assumes me to be a caucasian male (which I’m not) and has gone on to publically display my email adress and IP adress.

Have I been transported to a weird parallel dimension, where racism means that you DON’T discriminate/judge a person for the colour of their skin?

Stupidly, I tried to explain myself to this person, but he is twisting every word I say and simply assuming that I’m a racist. Because I… don’t judge a person for their skin colour. Yeah. That makes sense

Of a Dream

Hurried off the bus I did, in such a rush to get to the next one that I forgot a bag on the first. Upon the realization that I had lost something I hurried back on, calling out to the driver. “Just gotta get my bag, sorry!”


Dreamwork is not static. It is a conversation and the dream itself is poetry. Part entertainment, part art, part message.


The door shut behind me as I got on. The driver put the bus into gear and started going. “No wait!” I called out. “I’m getting off! Was just getting my bag!”


The first step to learning how to ‘read’ dreams is not terribly different from learning to analyze a poem. Identifying the difference between symbolism and meaningless chatter. Seeing how those symbols work together to shape contents underneath the surface.


As I shouted the bus driver turned her face towards me. She wasn’t stopping the bus. “There is a lesson for you in this,” she said. I protested as any upset passenger would. Of course I did, I could not understand. Not while still being in the dream. Almost crying with anger I turned to another passenger and complained of what was happening, telling them how unreasonable the driver was and how badly I needed to get off. The one I was speaking to showed no signs of sympathy, her face blank as that of a doll.

The fellow passenger spoke, repeating words already spoken by another: “There is a lesson in this.”




The Race Thing Again

Mind if I bang my head against the wall?


I was just reading a blog post written by a fellow heathen, that I’m not going to name. It was an interesting piece and I greatly enjoyed it! Until, all of a sudden, the writer started talking race. Started talking about Whites and how we are under attack by the big bad multicultural world. How we’ll go extinct if we don’t fight back. Of how the Norse gods belong to us Whites. And I just. Want. To. Scream.


So let me just make this statement, for anyone who has stumbled in here with the impression that Heathens are racists, white supremacists. Some are. Yes. Absolutely. But lots and lots are not. Please, please know this.


I do not give a fuck what the colour of your skin is, and I do not believe the Gods do either.


Forget White. Forget Black. It’s just melanin, folks. It doesn’t matter. It really doesn’t.


Edit: Since some seem confused as to what I mean with this post, let me make it overly clear. I believe us all to be equal regardless of skin colour. No race is superior to another, and I am NOT in any way saying that you matter less depending on the concentration of melanin in your skin. In fact it’s precisely the opposite I am saying – black or white (or brown or pink or whatever you identify your skin as) we are all equal. If you do not agree that we are all of equal value regardless of skin colour, well then I would hope you will just fuck off and leave me alone. Clear enough?

Busy busy, no time to waste!

I have had a number of blog posts almost written this last week. One about the most marvelous wild raspberry jam I made, and one about a this year’s disastrous blackcurrant jelly (it didn’t set, so basically I have lots of sweet blackcurrant sauce). And a couple of cat posts for Katzenworld!

But alas, I have been unable to write properly since I got back from the Netherlands. The reason is no great unknown –  next week is Medieval Week in Visby and I am busy sewing. While navigating a chaotic world of panic and anxiety, as I’m still not really recovered since my last downfall. So basically my days at the moment look something like… this:

Breakfast -> short burst of sewing -> mini panic attack -> short burst of sewing ->anxiety attack -> short burst of sewing -> go outside to pick some berries in attempt at not panicking again -> panic anyway -> collapse, feeling like I just ran a marathon.


Yeeah, it’s not great! But it’ll be alright. I’m so far pleased with how the sewing project is coming along, and I think I’ll manage to finish it before Visby. (It’s that or go nekkid! I can’t fit in my old clothes at the moment. *sadface* )


So now, blogging will have to wait. Or well, I did manage this little update! That’s a success, I believe. Now I need to get back to sewing, wish me luck!