A Cleansing


snowy skies



In rainwater soak

Leaves of birch chopped fine

Into it coarse salt pour and

Mix with almond oil



Strip down bare

Even if cold

Leave not a thread

Even if cold



As thorough as ever then

Wash your limbs

Wash your body

Wash your hair

Rinse in running water



With salted birch and oil you then

Scrub your limbs

Scrub your body

Scrub your hair

Rinse in running water




Clean new clothes

Chamomile and honey tea

Sleep and be reborn



snowy skies




A Child’s Secret

A child’s mind is not the easiest thing to comprehend. Her frames of reference, her sense of logic and reason, it is something else.


Before I knew the runes, one came to me. To me and my cousin, who was of the same age. It was before we had begun at school, before we had learned the proper ways of modern living.


I don’t know where it came from. I didn’t know then either. We just knew that this, this was important. And powerful. It meant protection. It meant hope. It meant a way out for he who is trapped, and a way in for he who is locked out. We could not put to words why, but this we knew.


We called it Norrombergen. A name that made sense to a child’s mind, though to you it may seem strange. Norrombergen, we knew, consisted of one vertical line, splitting into three at the top. It wasn’t until many, many years later that I learned it had another name – Algiz.





No one taught us. This was secret knowledge that we had stumbled on, and we told no one. For years and years, we told no one. Norrombergen was a secret, and it was ours.




Mighty Rowan, kära rönn

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Our house lies in between two big old rowan trees. You can see one of them in the picture above, in bloom as they are in the earlier days of summer. Today there are no flowers, but plenty of bright red berries.

The rowan, in Swedish is called rönn, may not be the grandest of trees – often it grows to be no more than a shrub. Nonetheless it has a mighty powerful place in folklore, ancient mythology, and yes, magic. Protective as well as runic magic, most of all. According to an old myth a rowan tree once even saved the life of Thor himself, which is no small feat.

The young leaves can be used for tea, and the berries are edible. Not particularly tasty, but edible. They are completely packed full of vitamin C, so much that three a day will cover what you need. Luckily you don’t have to eat them raw, they can be made into jelly or jam, or even wine. Or you can dry them and add a bit in bread baking, or use in your müsli or whatnot. The birds love them too, and for good reason – rowan berries, or rönnbär, makes up their most important food source in wintertime, at least up here.

One day the two mighty rowan trees by our house will wither and die. It’s alright, there are already young shoots coming up to take their place. We will take care of them, and perhaps they will take care of us.

Writing Weirdness

Me:  Oh but come on!


Also Me: What?!


Me: Don’t you act all innocent now, you know what I mean. What the hell are you writing?


Also Me: Poetry.


Me: Pffft.


Also Me: Prayers.


Me: But…


Also Me: There is magic in it as well.




Also Me: Yes.






Me: Well yeah but… but…


Also Me: Shut up.

Poetic Ventures into the Weird

I find myself writing odd poetry. Heathen poetry with a sprinkle of spell work, in a style I have not touched before. It feels right. It feels like I don’t care if people understand it or not, weird or not it is just as it should be.




It’s an interesting feeling. When being able to let go of what is normal and ‘correct’, and instead finally coming to express raw meaning.


Yes, I like this.