Valentine's Day festivities

Valentine's Day is often fraught with anxiety for those who don't have a significant other to celebrate with (and the scope of the expected celebrations has grown exponentially over the years--used to, you could make do with a card and maybe some flowers or candy, but now a night of romantic excess seems to be expected).

But for a while now, I've found a way to ensure that Valentine's Day doesn't fall flat for me, and that is by using the occasion to to a ritual in honor of Freyja. Not a traditional Norse holiday, but there is a record of the Dísablót , a sacrifice to the female powers called dísir, at Uppsala in Sweden, so it's not totally out of place.  Plus--well, Freyja, and love (and lust!) and all those things--surely it fits into the occasion (plus, all those little hearts, looking oh so similar to a pair of buttocks ♥

And doing a ritual to the great Goddess of love and later endulging in a little wine and seafood amidst some fresh flowers certainly beats watching a cheesy chick-flick while eating an entire carton of ice cream. Try it--you need never be alone on Valentine's Day again.

Happy Thorrablót!

So, tonight I'm going to celebrate Thorrablót by honoring the god Thor and consuming what remains of the Yuletide eats and drinks.

The Þorrablót is actually a modern festival that started out in the mid-1800s when a group of Icelandic students in Copenhagen got all excited about Icelandic nationalism and held a dinner party honoring their country's traditional foods and customs. They also honored Thor, probably because his name sounded kind of like Thorrablót.  The festival later became popular throughout all Iceland by the mid-twentieth century and is still celebrated today. Some modern followers of Asatru also celebrate the holiday in honor of Thor.

It got its name from the historical Icelandic calendar name for the month of Þorri, which covered the period from mid-January to mid-February.  The Orkneyinga saga mentions a legendary Norwegian king named Þorri ("frost"), the son of Snær ("snow"). Other sources claim that the Kvens (a Finnish population in northern Norway) celebrated a yearly sacrifice at mid-winter.

However, sadly, etymologically the name Þorrablót has nothing to do with the Norse god Þórr, despite the similarity in their names. And it was never a truly ancient, traditional Heathen festival. So all the modern celebrations are non-traditional.

 If you really want to celebrate in the traditional Icelandic manner, folklore has it that on the first morning of the month of Þorri, the head of the house would go outside in the cold only partially dressed: barefoot, dressed in only his shirt, and partly barelegged (one trouser-leg went on his leg, while the other trouser-leg dragged on the ground). He then proceeded to hop on one leg all around his house and bid Þorri welcome to his home.  (Then his wife treated him specially nice the rest of the day, which is also known as Bóndadagur, or "Husband's Day").

Then you can feast on such traditional Icelandic treats as hákarl (rotten shark's meat), svið (boiled sheeps head), blóðmör (congealed sheep's blood wrapped in a ram's stomach), or súrsaðir hrútspungar (the testicles of rams pressed in blocks, boiled and cured in lactic acid), along with a healthy draught of Brennivin (a type of Icelandic aquavit also known as Black Death--you'll need it to wash down all that food).

But it's winter, and it's cold and wet, and all the fun of Yule and my birthday are over, and I really have to get seriously back to work now, and hey, I need a festival. And Thor is just fun, you know? So, here's to pork and beer, here's to Thor, and a big Texas welcome to Þorri!!

Last week I lost my first teacher and mentor of esoteric things (also poetry, wine selection, and many, many other things). This past spring I lost my mother. The number of people who I can consult for reliable and wise advice is dwindling, and I am rebelling against being pushed to the front of the generational train, as it were.

I have been thinking about the concept of gift giving. In the Germanic tradition, this was the glue that held society together. And while coming across things people have given me--objects, writings, letters--it has struck me how deep the roots of a gift can run. Every time I read an article with my mentor's notes, every time I perform a task following my mother's instructions, every time I wear or use or look at the various gifts that have been given me by friends and kinfolk over the years, I think of them. I remember where we were and what we were doing when the gift was given, and I remember them--their words, their lives, their essence. I will always think of them when I see or use those things, and as long as I do, they will live for me in my memory.

If I give or bequeath these things to others, along with the stories that go with them, when I die or beforehand, those people will then think of the givers when they see or use those things. And thus, by the giving of gifts, they achieve a kind of immortality.

I have been working hard this year on a number of projects.

I am excited to announce that Inner Traditions/Bear Company is re-publishing my book on Norse goddesses and tranceworking (formerly published as Magic of the Norse Goddesses by Rúna Raven Press in 2004).

The forthcoming second edition will be called Norse Goddess Magic and will come out in May 2015:

Norse Goddess Magic : Tranceworking, Mythology, and Ritual




(So hopefully this will inspire me to get going on some of my other projects)

Back again after all these years...

Well--been on quite a hiatus, haven't I?

Despite the optimism expressed in my last post, 2010 was not my friend.  A plumbing leak from my upstairs neighbor caused a worse disaster than Hurricane, which only goes to show that man-made troubles are worse than Nature's.  I won't go into depressing detail, but it took most of the year to get things back together (on my neighbor's insurance, fortunately). 

By 2011 I had realized that this place just does not want me living here.  I certainly didn't seem to want to live there--after my boxes were returned from the temporary storage facility to which they had to be moved during repairs, I saw around for another 6 months without opening them.  I think I had a superstition that once I moved in again, another disaster would strike.  Anyway, even though the real estate market hadn't bounced all the way back, I decided condo ownership was not for me, and I sold the Condo-From-Hell in the late fall.

I spent a peaceful year recuperating in a small and charming 1950s complex, which I loved, until the elderly landlord retired and sold it to a developer, who kicked us all out, tore it down, and is currently in the process of building a row of ugly stucco townhomes.  So I moved again in 2013--to an apartment hastily chosen and further from my job.  I like it better than I thought I would, though the evening commute is an aggravation.  Still can't decide whether or not I would rather tolerate this arrangement for another year or go through the hassle and expense of moving yet again later this spring.

But I have no regrets--ever since I dis-encumbered myself from that condo, I have been able to sleep soundly again, without waking in the middle of the night thinking I hear water dripping, and without getting constantly distracted by mundane problems, I have finally begun to work on some new projects again--writing, music, and of course, theatre.

So--sometimes you have to be willing to put yourself through a lot of uncomfortable and laborious work in order to get out of a situation that is sapping your power and your creativity.  "Need is heavy on the heart, yet it often proves a help and salvation to the children of men, if they heed it in time."  Don't put up with situations that drain your life of energy and joy--it's like pulling band-aid, it hurts at first, but it only lasts a minute.

It's been a tough year

It's been a long time since I posted. Kind of got distracted by little things, like Hurricane Ike. I tend to be cynical, but was still caught off-guard by how poorly support systems (insurance companies, homeowners associations, the government) perform in such disasters (and I had relatively minor damages compared to some people down on the coast). Safety is an illusion.

Took about eight months to return to "normal" (or at least not abnormal). Finally got to do a lead in a Gilbert & Sullivan operetta (Ruth in Pirates of Penzance) and a minor role in Rice University's The Threepenny Opera (the show that made me want to get into theatre in the first place).

Now I'm trying very hard to get back to a normal work schedule for the new year (and not inclined to very much--they say that Norwegians used to celebrate Yule until Easter...I'm half Norwegian, can't I celebrate until, say, February?)

Walpurgisnacht !

"The wind is hushed, the starlight pales,
The dismal moon her features veils;
As magic-mad the hosts whiz by,
A myriad sparks spurt forth and fly."

(from Goethe's Faust)










Ah, Walpurgisnacht! (Hexennacht in Germany, Valborgsmässoaften in Sweden). That supernatural, vernal equivalent to Halloween, when spirits fly abroad and the witches (so they say) go to dance on Mt. Brocken (immortalized in film in Disney's Fantasia).

Jacob Grimm (yeah, the same guy who wrote the fairy tales with his brother), in his book Teutonic Mythology, described it thus:

"Down into the tenth and into the 14th centuries, night-women in the service of Dame Holda rove through the air on appointed nights, mounted on beasts; her they obey, to her they sacrifice, and all the while not a word about any league with the Devil. Nay, these night-women, shining mothers, dominae nocturnae, bonnes dames ... were originally daemonic elvish beings, who appeared in woman's shape and did men kindnesses. Holda, Abundia, to whom still a third part of the whole world is subject, leads the ring of dancers ... "

Well, even if you don't believe in witches, it's still a good excuse for a party! (Just be careful who you dance with!)