Hail to my maternal Ancestors. I honor my Disir. The women before me. I honor the path they have walked, and the deed they’ve done. I honor their accomplishments, large and small. I honor the women the women who came before me. I honor the good Disir and ask for guidance. I ask for wisdom and strength, for all of life’s dealings. I say this prayer to honor the good Disir. In hopes that the blessings they give will be fortuitous. Hail the Disir!
Author: lunarianraven
Mother’s Night Prayer
On this night, Mother’s Night. I hail three Great Mothers For nothing is greater, than a mother’s love, than a mother’s strength, than a mother’s wisdom. Hail Queen Frigg! Mother to Hod and Baldr; Gods of light and dark Wife of the All-Father, Who claims the slain. Queen of all Asgard. I hail You All-Mother. In hopes of being blessed with love. Hail Angrboda! Mother to the Brood of the Trickster, Your three powerful children. Guardian of the wolves of the Ironwood, who come to Your command. Protector of all the outcast children, who wander alone, I hail You Mighty Sorceress. In hopes of being blessed with strength. Hail Jord! Mother to the Mighty Thor, Protector of Midgard. Whose body is the Earth, where I tread daily. Lover to the King of Asgard, Whose hand gave us breath. I hail You Mother Earth. In hopes of being blessed with wisdom. I hail these three Great Mothers and ask for, Strength, to continue my daily duties. Love, so that I may care and nurture others. Wisdom, so that I may withstand all the chaos of our human world. Hail to these three Great Mothers.
Darling Scarlip
How Your eyes shine with emerald light. They even glow under the starlight, Your eyes shame even the darkest night Your locks look like dancing flame, Fallen around You, they look like waves of heat. So smooth, so beautiful, I only wish to run my fingers through. Your skin glistens under moonlight. So soft, so smooth, I can’t help, But let my hands glide across Your chest. The soft caress of Your gentle hands, Sends tingles of joy all through my heart. Never have I felt anything so grand. Your lips soft and warm. From them fall the sweetest words. All my worries fade away. Darling Scarlip. Even when all is hopeless, And everything seems senseless And silence is all that permeates. Your voice brings sweet relief, And all my griefs are burned away.
Yule
I once saw a magnificent Hall. Standing alone amid a darkened snowfield. It was filled with the laughter of the merry. Torches all alight; the inside illuminated. The sound of raucous revelry; cut through the cold gloom; that seemingly gripped this surreal plane.
I turned my head to the star riddle heavens, to relish, take in the chilled air. I heard hoofbeats approaching, but they sounded as if the beast were galloping on feathers, light and soft. Intrigued I lift the furs and heavy woolen skirt that hung about my waist and went to meet the sound.
A horse, grey as smoke stood before me. Its rider mounted atop the beast was no mere mortal. I felt an ethereal energy emanating from Him. It was something that inspires, and commands. Inspiring a warrior to fight on or perhaps a scholar to keep learning.
I had no fear of Him, and He gave me no such reason to. I could only gaze upon Him in awe. His face was obscured by both hood and shadow. But His eye! His single but bright, determined eye bore straight through me. As if He were looking inside, as if He could see me for all that I was.
He spoke, He tells me that He is leaving on a journey. That this journey would be beneficial to not only to Him, but me and all beings as well. I was sorrowful that He must depart, His reassurances push all my anxious thoughts away, but they could not quell my lamenting heart. I watched as that hooded man rode away, carrying my heart with Him.
Goddess of Twilight
You, Ruler of the Dead. How many times have I seen Your visage? Was it once, twice, or thrice? Your beautiful, graceful form standing over me. Waiting, watching; will this be the time? Many a time, have I come to Your door. I have felt Your icy touch glide across my chest. In its coldness, was a warmth, a comfort. I was not fearful nor sad but curious. Curious as why You have not yet taken me. A gentle caress of my cheek, Your whispers, sounding of soft chimes. “Not now, not yet, but one day.” You return me to the healers and tell me to go home. They lead me from Your door and back to my family. Your presence, now ever present. Reminds me just how fleeting this life is. So now I cherish these days that I live. Goddess of Twilight, may we meet again, when I am old and grey
White-Winged Demon
Trigger Warning: Implied assault, Implied sexual assault.
There is a demon that haunts me. It stalks the dark corners of my mind. And it takes joy in my pain, relishing it. They are so beautifully cruel. Appearing with wings of white and porcelain skin. Its tongue and face equally beautiful and hideous. Their smile malicious, eyes dark as void. Its every word are drops of venom that it happily spews. And its touch is withered and rigid, I cannot avoid it. They come to me every night. It lays in my bed and sits in my chair. To remind me that they are here. It wants to take me, I refuse. But it does so anyway. Again, and again, I struggle and cry, fight and lose. They hold me down, and it takes its bile covered blade, And it plunges down inside of me, It pierces my chest. “Worthless, pathetic” “Ugly, disgusting.” “Stupid, talentless.” Those words slide from its lips. They slither down the blade, seeping into my heart. My torment and suffering are its succor. My strength leaves me, and I succumb to it. It has its way with me, it delightfully violates my being. My sorrows are its nourishment. As I lay there defeated. I hear a voice call to me. Its cuts through the silent blackness. It ignites a tiny spark. “Do not stop, please.” “You cannot give up.” As the voice urges me. The tiny spark grows brighter. Now a glowing ember. “Compassion” it whispers. I offer it to my tormenter, kindness, loving words and compassionate thoughts. It recoils, screams and thrashes. But I persist. The glowing ember now a full flame. I continue my kind onslaught. The beautiful flames finally consume it. It is gone for now. And I am left alone in a temporary peace.
Happy Pug
My little button-nosed spud, with eyes like marbles, and curled little stub. You bring joy to all who meet you and greet them with your slobbering dew. Your excited little dancing makes me so happy. Your little feet always prancing. I love my little Happy and all your silly snorting.
Red Threads
Trigger Warning: Suicide Ideation, Implied Suicide attempt.
Here I lay on Jord’s cold, dark corpse. Her body unwelcoming and unloving. Here I lay bleeding out. Gasping for breath. No strength to struggle, no will for life. Hel’s shadow looming in close. My arms, wounded in their length. Bleeding out in ribbons, my eyes heavy with sleep. Your figure appears before me, dark and obscured. I watch I as my life, pools crimson at Your feet. You kneel and whisper “not this day.” You cut into Your own arm, a deep gash. It flows, Your life’s essence. Now it mixes with mine. You dig deep into my wound and pull from it a pulsing ribbon. The pain is searing, yet You still pull. I gasp and writhe as You hold my thread. My pounding pulse now in Your hand. You take from Yourself, Your own vital fiber. And with that You stitch my wound. You take mine and close Yours. The bleeding now halted. I still gasp for life. You gently bring Your lips to mine. And share Your breath of life with me. You brought me back from the brink, I breath once more. No more do I cling to this life but love it. You saved me from my own encroaching darkness. You lent me Your strength, Your will. I am grateful. I am grateful, My love. My dear Havi.
Some Rune talk
So this time I want to talk about the runes. When I say runes I mean the Elder and Younger. I am aware that there are other runes like the Icelandic but for the sake of making this easier I am going to talk about the Elder and Younger Futhark. Again this post is more of an opinion post, directed at other Heathens who either force the idea that the runes are not magical or should not be used to write with or those who force the idea that the runes are solely magical.
The Elder Futhark
The Elder futhark runes in the simplest terms is or was a form of written communication. Inscriptions were found on artifacts such as jewelry, tools, amulets, and weapons. I have heard arguments over whether or not the Elder Futhark was used for writing purposes, divination, magic or they should not be used as writing etc.. I’m no expert and I’m no rune master either, but they obviously were used. A lot of information either comes from the lore or whatever academics, historians, and archeological finds have uncovered and I am not afraid to admit that it can get very confusing when trying to learn about them. So people like us rely on either books or videos and other blogs to help us sort through it all. Of course no one is perfect and information changes upon new discoveries or others put forth their own theories, then things can get really muddled, especially when people push their theories and UPGs as fact.
One of the people I highly recommend learning from, and if you’re like me like visual things is Dr. Jackson Crawford. He has a Youtube channel with dozens of useful informational videos. I have been told by some Heathens, especially the ones that claim to be “Shaman” or “Volva” or that “follow the true ways” to stay away from Crawford’s channel because he is not “Heathen” or insert whatever label you want to use. Saying things like that should elicit an suspicious eyeroll.
Another person I also like to watch on Youtube is Arith Harger. He has lots of informative videos on the Norse faith as a whole. I recommend his runes playlist as he approaches them from both esoteric and academic views.
I find it easiest to research the runes from three different views.
- Search and read the lore/myths.
- Read up on the historical and academic findings and research.
- Read on how the runes are applied for divinatory and magical use.
Of course start with one at a time, do not be like this doofus raven and try to do all the research at the same time. I have wracked my brain and burned myself out of it. Anyhow the order is totally up to you. As long as you are actually interested and motivated.
I don’t personally see anything wrong with wanting to write out names or phrases in the Elder Futhark or play around with them to find whatever is comfortable for you. I personally like the Elder runes, I think its a great way to get personal with them and a great way to learn them too.
Using Runes for Magic and divination.
Rune casting, rune scripts, and bindrunes are all fall on the magical/spiritual side of the spectrum. Which I have some experience in. I’ve only done a few of my own bindrunes and I only do a three or five rune spread. No, I will not do a reading for you, I’m not confidant enough to offer services. Anyways, lot of quarreling I’ve seen go on about weather or not the runes were used in magical works. Since there is so many arguments over it and from what I can find some scholars can’t agree if runes are or aren’t magical or were used as such and since no one can agree I’m going to just post my opinion. So to the ones that say the runes should not be used for magic, why? Why does it bother you so much? So what people want to make bindrunes and scripts put of the runes for luck, love, or happiness. If scholars can’t agree whether or not runes are a magical tool then what makes you an expert and gives you the right to tell people to stop? (I mean I suppose unless you’re an expert or academic, but even if you are you have no right to bully people and tell them how to go about practicing their path!) I think of the runes like I do writing and our letters if I write out a spell and recite it with the intention of accomplishing my goals then it shall be, same goes for runes. Here is an example of what I’m talking about.
“The pronouncement of words was recognized to have a tremendous influence over the concerns of life. The impact of a sentence uttered aloud could not be questioned and could never be taken back – as if it had become somehow physical. Words create reality, not the other way around.”
Catharina Raudvere
So if I draw out a bindrune for health or carve Algiz for protection and I feel protected then what’s the harm? All I am saying is that fellow Heathens and Pagans need to stop trying to push their views and ways on others, because you are starting to sound like a bunch of Christians. That is one of the things I love about Paganism as a whole that there is no right or wrong way to pursue this path. You literally carve your own path.
Younger vs. Elder
I don’t use the younger futhark that much as I favor the Elder when working with the runes. I would like to work with the younger more but it seems that when it comes to the divination part of working with them that not many do, at least I haven’t seen many anyways. I mostly see people use the younger for writing things out, but I also don’t see why people couldn’t use them for other things. I would like to work more with the younger and even incorporate them into my practice some how. I don’t know a whole lot about the younger except that the elder evolved into the younger as time went on. Things change, and are always changing, and so do we.
In the end when it comes to working with the runes, choose whatever you are comfortable with. If you want to use the elder runes to write and divine with, then use them. If you want to only use the younger for writing then do so. Do whatever you think feels right. Look at the runes from both a academic and spiritual view. Use them for your esoteric purposes but also acknowledge their practical use as well. After all Odin didn’t hang Himself from the tree just so people could bicker and fight over who is right or wrong. You do you Wyrdos.
The Tree
I once dreamt of a tree, a large sprawling tree. Its branches reached into the heavens high, and its gnarled roots deep into the earth below. I looked upon the tree and there I beheld a figure swaying from one of its branches obscured by a blanket of mist.
As the mists begin to fade; the figure became clear. Oh! How beautiful, how morbid, His visage was. It filled my mind with awe, and my heart with sorrow. He hung by noose and bloodied with His holiest red. I watched as it flowed down His magnificent gaunt form. I stood beneath Him.
With trembling arms and an aching, that I could not control, I reached for Him. As I did, I heard Him speak. “You cannot save everyone from their tree. Some hang willingly, while others are forced, and some hang unknowingly.” My arms fall, I only wished to offer comfort, but I know He is right; I cannot save everyone.
My mind knows that His sacrifice was His own. Himself to Himself; His sacrifice, but my heart ached regardless. His crimson sap trickled down upon my upturned face. I wiped it away, smearing it across my lips. The bittersweet liquid lingered on my lips and tongue, then I am filled with visions of far-off lands.
Visions of clashing warriors on bloodied fields, women draped in silk giving their love to brave heroes. I am bombarded by these images, inspired by His sacred ichor. He has given me the honor; the honor of sampling something precious. Was this the wine in which gives the skalds their wordsmithing gifts? The Hanged God had indeed shared something with me, and it honored, blessed, and humbled me, and I am forever grateful
The Midgard Wyrdo 