Precious Lady

 

Heralding Her arrival, there came a single kitten.

Its dark grey, almost black fur, all unkempt and uneven.

Its bright eyes green and piercingly aware.

‘Look’, it seemed to say without a voice.

‘Look, for here She comes.’

 

And there She was.

In bird form She came,

a hunting bird with

feathers of gold and

a terrifying beak.

 

Before my eyes, bird-form fell and

She came forth.

Not in youthful splendor but

old and grey,

a wrinkled beauty with eyes of

clearest crystal.

 

So I saw Her.

Freya, most precious Lady.

May Her hall forever stand.

 

 

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?

Beauty, power, grace

“Come,” the old woman said. “I’m going to show you something. Show you someone.”

I was not afraid. Not even when the colours of the world faded and everything seemed to shrink. No, I realized. It wasn’t the world shrinking, it was me. Slowly falling back, collapsing with my back against the wall and my hands still firmly clasped by the old woman.

We were dead.

“Now we can go and see her.”

Her. I never was told her name. The priestess of Death. Priestess? No, when I laid eyes on her I knew she was more than that. She was the Goddess herself. Hair as black as charcoal reached just below her shoulders. Sunkissed skin was soft and healthy. The grace and seduction of a dancer oozed from her every motion. The authority of a Queen shone from her eyes. Clad in gold and clad in blue, the most royal of colours.

She was beautiful. Painfully beautiful. 

Our spirits like forgettable mice scuttled around the corners of the building. Not to be noticed, not to be seen, just to witness. It was a dangerous game, getting this close. But I was not afraid, only fascinated by the beauty, power, and grace which was hers.

Personal Revelations

Here I am again. Trying to put to words what I see, what I’ve come to understand. I don’t recall ever having such trouble writing down thoughts and ideas, usually the words flow like water from my mind and fingertips, but not now. Not in this matter.

 

Never in my polytheistic practice have I felt an urge to name one God or Goddess as my main patron. Often I’ve wondered about it, seeing how so many others feel the call to focus their service on one among the many, and for sure there are those I feel closer to than others. I had just about settled in the notion that I wasn’t supposed to be dedicated to one. That I was to stand open to all, with a broad span rather than a narrow one.

 

Things are changing now. I feel the pull of one among the many. Still my devotion is broad, I have great respect and love for many, but this feels different. It is different. It is deep within myself, and far beyond. It contradicts what I thought I knew yet I knew it all along. It is bridging a gap between myself and me. It is not what I expected.

 

I apologize for the cryptic words. I can’t seem to put it any clearer in writing. I’m not supposed to, I think.

 

Yes, I believe I have found the one I am meant to serve. She is Night, and I am Hers.

 

 

 

 

 

More on Nótt

In reaching out for Nótt I think I stumbled on something far bigger than I had expected. It’s only been a few days but already it is already affecting me. And yes, in a positive way.

She is bringing me insights I truly did not see coming. I’m sorry if that sounds overly dramatic, but it’s sort of a big deal to me. I’m seeing things, feeling things, I didn’t expect.

I turned to Nótt without a clue of what I’d find. But this, this is more profound than I could have hoped for.

I’m nowhere near the point where I can describe it all. But maybe I can at least… give a few keywords?

 

Silence

Underneath

Beyond

Connect

Feel

 

Nótt

I never paid much attention to the goddess called Nótt. Or Natt, as we would call her in current Swedish. Goddess of the Night. A few days ago I found myself looking for her though, looking to understand and if possible connect.

Who is she? I recall her being “simply” a personification of the night, which before has lead me to think of her as a symbol rather than as an actual deity. But was I wrong to think that?

A quick search will tell you of her three marriages, who her men were and who she gave birth to. That seems to be the staple information, and it frustrates me. Yes, it’s pretty damn cool that she’s supposed to be Thor’s grandmother, but what does that tell me about her? Nothing. Or well, not very much, at least.

What else?

Of course she has a deep connection with sleep and dreams. That alone should be enough to spark my interest. But she is also said to be connected to creativity and writing in particular – and there is definitely something of interest to me. I still haven’t found out why exactly, and can’t point at a source, so if you who read this know more… tell me! I want to know what this connection to writing particularly is based on, originally.

Anyway, as usual when I wish to open up for connecting with a new deity, I decided to dedicate a candle to her, and to bring a first offering of wine. And so I did the other night, I went out to the woodland shrine, lit her candle and gave a goblet of dark red wine. It was too bright outside, the summer night holds very little darkness, but the intention was true and I hope it opened up for a connection. That’s really all one can hope for in a first “meeting” anyway, if you ask me. At that early point there is no reason to try and achieve anything other than an open door, so to speak. Or perhaps just finding the door, and knocking on it.

So, we will see. A connection to develop, hopefully. If you who read this have given thought to Nótt, from a spiritual OR academic side, please leave a little message and say hello! I’m interested in hearing any and all you have to say about her.