Lorecast (S2) Explained

Here again we come to this, the end of a season and another episode of Lorecast Explained. I pray my friend and my brother that you have found the journey as intimate and exquisite as I have. The web of Wyrd is a delicate but firm mistress, our Dura Mater spares no insolence and indolence and through our abandonment of the Goddess Fate, be she biological destiny or cosmic justice, we have incurred a penalty in some ways worse than death. We have invited decay, malaise, ignorance and pathetique. This in turn has led to another most grotesque of insults; we have allowed our culture to shrivel. It was not robbed from us; we sold the rights and the rites. What we have, we can only fairly expect. But alas alack, history shows there is no end of chances, for breath belies fate and it is in our power to cooperate with our best destiny or reject it. We can return to our ways and culture, we can expunge the foreign influence from our thinking and become ourselves again. Our children do not have to exist in a vacuum, abhorred by nature. This is the gift we can give them, to return them to a native culture, and this is the power we bear, to determine for ourselves what native entails. Hence, my brother, self-determination. We can, and therefore we must, do better than the dismal nothingness we have received as a paltry offering for the soul we sold to industry.

You, Brother, can repent and return to the Goddess. It is not a matter of complexity, as some would have you believe, it is not a matter of grandiosity or impossibility. It is a matter setting a course and steering the rudderless ship to the peaks of heaven where our glory awaits. It does not even have to be a religious conversion, like washing the feet of strangers under the shadow of the crucifix. Our Race has always viewed our Nation(s) as a Mistress and a Goddess. We are Gentiles, of a kind and of a kindred, Nation means birthrite, you know. Americans were once watched over by Columbia when this Country was yet a Nation in birth-pangs, as Germany was catered to by the Spirit of Germania, the French traded theirs for the Lady Reason – I don’t know what guides them now, and the Irish? They are still watched by Erin and the island still bears Her name, true to the promise. Erin, my friend, go Bragh – Ireland till eternity. Race and Nation, treated as a divine marriage, mirrors the classical interpretation of Church. That is no coincident, Biblical scholars must confess that early churches were nationalised, the Body has always been that of a woman, a bride. For those without faith, faith is not needed and reason will do, you can life for worse and die for better than a metaphor – but faith, faith is best. Faith in the divinity that courses through our veins, trying to recall the sense of destiny that propelled our ancestors across the globe like a dynamo. A dite better than that old hat that says that this is life and we had better get used to it, that we’re so much cleverer than all our ancient kin and we might as well embrace the new religious reality of the church of the consoomur and forget all that mystic tripe.

Pascal called for a leap of faith. Friend, what more can you lose if you close your eyes and give yourself in marriage to the blood-ties that bind? Release yourself of your preconceptions, if only for a moment, and try to see the tapestry the Nornir, Parcae and Moirai have left us – how the religious roads lead back to a common well, drawn from the water of two springs that flowed from a forgotten eternity.

Lest you forget that is the purpose of this podcast, the reason for the season, as it were. I am not a dispassionate scholar and I absolutely have an agenda. Of this you can rest assured, lest you consider thinking to accuse me of bias, I embrace it fully. Now, this I warn to allay the suspicion of dishonesty, a needless dichotomy if my intentions are laid bare. My knowledge serves as a vessel to promote a return to our culture, as others have the rites to return them to theirs. A return is a complicated affair, for the roots are deep, and the tree is tall – so tall that one can scarcely see the uppermost boughs. So our tree is at once like Yggdrasil, whose roots hold the solar system in tight array, and so it is like the Mighty Finnish Oak, so tall that the Sun Herself feeds the brightest branch. The Irminsul of the Teuton, the thunderstruck oaks in Rome, all these pale in comparison to our family tree of life.

To worship at this altar of blood and soil is to connect the dots of your chart to their beginning, far in spades beyond what your parish records show, indeed further back that science is wont to admit. What conclusions may be had may be speculation, but the speculative sciences were once a proud institution. So they must be again, if we are to seize the firmament so that below terra firma might hold water for our children as they sail the river of blood, farther than Styx and to Elysium.

So here it is, my passionate plea renewed, foremost beyond the destruction of Carthage I believe it is high time we took our Gods and Heroes back, not from some fabled enemy, but the cynical and depraved among us who insist upon their fabricated nihilism. It is not the enemy in the gate but the coward in the citadel whose wound bleeds us, grieves us most. For his is the knife in the dark we ignore at our peril. If indeed one cannot seize belief from the hands of the void, than at least one might seize ownership of the history our Gods and Tales evoke.

That ownership will ground us, give us strength, you shall find if you thrust your hands into the heart of the matter that the blood which courses back upward will swell your veins with renewed vigour. You yourself are a link in a chain, fragmented, deranged, but not broken. This chain connects us to our ancestors from whom we are inseperate, we are our ancestors, as surely as we are ancestry to our descendents, themselves being us in ourselves. What is a child but a continuation of the parent? Why then is it so hard for the modern Nationalist to seek for the centre of this context? If you are continued from your parents and yours from theirs, at the end of the day, you are yet continued from the first of these.

What was theirs is ours, for their lives are precisely what pulse through our veins. That isn’t the merest of blood which bleeds when you’re pricked, cut or savaged. No. It is the history of life itself, the family represented by the clan drawn out from the tribe as given by the nation.

And again, as I shall surely continue to remind you, every indigenous family tree in the European diaspora begins with a God. So it is that we discuss them, at least inasmuch as I can follow them in their appearance across the Celtic, Hellenic and Nordic hinterlands. You might ask why I have chosen to omit the Finno-Ugric Gods from this catalogue. My reasoning is pragmatic, I have less experience with these than the others, but owing certain peculiarities I find for my purposes that it is easier to connect the substance of the Finnish myths to the Euro-Aryan spirit than the Gods that people them, this I attribute to the language barrier, wherein the Gods themselves are often connected to the language that carries them, whereas a story is a spiritual language that uses verbal language as a vessel.

Where to begin, when there are so many points?

Perhaps I should simply begin in the order that epiphanies dawned upon me. I might like to think the Muses steered my hand, so I shall begin my affairs with an ode to those sumptuous Sisters who order the machinations of Fate. The Dominatrices of fate cut a swathe across the Western and Northern European hinterland with intriguing solidarity. First, allow us the courtesy of examining their names. The Greek called their Mistresses ‘Moirai,’ or ‘Moiraea.’ The Romans referred to theirs after a Goddess, Parca, which became Parcae collectively. The Northern Germans believed in the Nornir. You may be tempted to believe the Celts had no such belief, but we find in the Irish Morrigna (as is her trinitarian name) a suitable cognomen.
In the Irish myths, the Morrighan (personal name) is said to reside in the Underworld with 9 Sisters. The Muses, you shall recall, were 9 sisters. The numerical parallel aside, they share a common function; the inspiration of men. The cynic might argue that women have always inspired men, but is this so? At the time this set of discourses were assembled that age of inspiration had been dampened, with the great romantic past far and away behind us. The Muses, obviously, work through music. But the Irish were more often than not moved by poetry and verse, themselves rousingly similar.
In terms of function, the Morrigan closes the cap between Greece and Gaul, and Germania and Gaul. The Morrigna is a sisterhood, Morrighan herself being a trinity. The Nornir of the Northern tribes are a sisterhood, a trinity. The Norns, you shall remember, are Urd, Verdandi and Skuld. The Morrighan is maiden, mother and crone. Both speak to the same idea; youthful glory, past, and maturity and parentage, present, as well as advanced age, the future. To be clear, what I mean to say is that to the Irish the Morrigna and Morrigan simultaneously fill the role the Muses and Moirai do for the Greeks, and illustrate that in the North the Nornir stand apart from a Music function. The Norns imbued fate, it is likely that they imbued characteristics of inspiration also, as the Morrigan is shown to do in her multiplicity.
More than this, it is curious that their expression is similar. The Morrigan appears as the Lady at the Ford, she who is seen washing clothes in the river’s tide before a fateful day. The Norns are shown spinning on their wheel. Other Goddesses who are involved in but not Dominatrix over fate are Frigga and Hulda, both shown as seamstresses who spin. This distinction is important to make because the German Holda is a dark Goddess in her crone aspect, with Freyja in her mother aspect. Holda would correspond to Morrigan’s crone form, which some insist is Sheela Na Gig. Freyja would strike one as similar to the mother aspect of Morrigan. In this wholesome picture there is a contingence. The Norns thread, Holda and Freyja spin, and the Morrigan has a whole cloth. In each of these, the clothe is representative of life. To the Germans, the thread represented life, but to the Celts the poetry is obtuse, but it would seem that life itself is a cloth that you put on and take off, given the clear Celtic insistence upon reincarnation.
In that way, we solve another issue. Superficially the Celtic races seem absent from the cyclical time model embraced by the Germans and Greeks opting instead for a vague linear time model with no extant creation or destruction, but they clearly believe the individual himself is a cyclical time model, where the Germans and Greeks seem to believe in a linear soul that is constructed and disassembled.
I digress. The Parcae are named from Parca, a Roman Goddess of birth. This ties them in function to the Nornir who assign lots of fate with the birth of each child. Of the Parcae there were three, just as there were three chief Nornir. The Moirai, like the Nornir, were autonomous and beholden to none, not even the Gods who in the end bowed before their law.
Since I have had much more to say of the Morrigan than I would have expected when I began this journey, let me continue. It has been supposed that the Morrigan is the Lady of the Lake. There is an internal logic here, potentially, for several reasons. The Morrigan has come as the Lady at the Ford, washing clothes, and surely rivers flow from a source. Moreover, there is the since of emergence. It was expected that Morrigan had a lair beneath the earth, where the dead were felt to in turn dwell. There is an analogy to be drawn here with Hela, as has been suggested before. In the Norse tale, Baldurs Draumar, Baldur’s ship is set ablaze and set to drift. Hela claimed her prize at sea. This in turn reminds us of the Spring Goddess become Fall Queen, Persephone, who rules with Hades in his underworld. She chose the slain, as Hel would have, and to reach her, one would have had to cross the river named after Styx.
Now Hela, as was mentioned in the Germanic episode, was of a substance with Nehellenia. Now, as mentioned, Nehellenia was depicted with a basket of apples, and being particularly fond of dogs. This is worth mentioning for in the Celtic realm, apples were a token of interest, they were attributes of Emain Ablach, later Avalon, which in today’s speech is Island of the Apples. Here is where Gods and Heroes were sent to be reshaped either after wounds or death. In Norse theology it is Idunna who has the pleasure of doling out apples to the Gods, which, you shall remember reverse the ageing process. This is worth mentioning because it suggests a correlation with Hel, often understood as a dreary realm. However, if Hela and Nehellenia are one, than a lost function of the Death Goddess might be to regenerate what she takes in.
Our ancestors seem to have had a keen interest in resurrection through reincarnation. In a sense, our races seemed keen to operated with a linear soul in a cyclical creation matrix. A soul might exist as a strict contingency, but adopt various forms as it takes on flesh. It would therefore make sense that the Death Goddess, often shown as a Triplicate or Trinity, would serve as a shepherdess over reincarnation. Often these Triple Goddesses had an emphatic womb, as much Paleolithic and Neolithic art attests. It has been stipulated, much to the chagrin of perverse and unimaginative scholars, that the European womb was rather nuanced. After all, some art and sculptures clearly show the womb as an object of passion, with the women depicted apparently pleasuring themselves. However, other times the womb is depicted enigmatically, grotesque in the medieval sense of grottoesque, invoking the cavernous sense of awe. Other times still, the womb seems to be more of a gateway, with the legs arched and inviting passage. Consider, if the concepts of Underworld and Rebirth were connected, than the Womb was the obvious corollary, you enter the womb of the earth in death and again from the womb of woman, connecting Earth therewith Goddess as life stands for a portal between.
While we dwell on the topic of life, death, rebirth and the perpetual Nirvana of the Gods… I will in fact make a digression… in our stories, the major theme that separates God from man appears to be the fact that Gods have a permission slip to cut through the halls without entering Samsara before Nirvana. The Gods exist as a perpetuity, and lose nothing of themselves to the causality of birth or death, and thus represent, albeit with maintenance, an infinite progression. Infinite here being disparate from eternal, with the core meaning of infinite simply being indeterminate or indefinite and not forever, unlimited or invincible. Anyway.
Apples serve as a symbol of renewable youth. It’s probably why European artists typically depicted the Fruit of Eden as an apple. In Greek mythology, however, the apple serves a different role. The Goddess, Eris, uses apples of discord to… sew discord, if you can imagine. Rather in Greece the Gods were believed to consume a substance called Nektar. What is Nektar? I don’t know, at this time. We frequently associate nektar with bees. Bees, it has been said, were a symbol of the Goddess. Certainly in Finnish mythology, which has certain parallels with Greek, bees were considered a positive influence as we see in the story of Iron. However, where the connection may be drawn is in the Genesis. As we learned last season, the cosmic sustainer Amalthea yielded up her horn which became the Cornucopia. This horn, presumably, contained Nektar, which was supposed to flow from Amalthea’s horns. The Nordic equivalent was Audhumbla, a cow, but in Valhalla it was said that there grazed a goat who never ran dry of milk.
While her name lingers in your memory, courtesy of Muninn’s blessing, I want to discuss exactly how Muninn’s blessing relates to the Morigna. Discarding the immediacy of gender gap, Odin and Morrigan fulfil very similar roles between the Germanic and Celtic peoples. Both keep ravens as familiars, both act as depositories of arcane knowledge, both are connected to the dead, both are Trinitarian with according functions and forms, both act as prophetic repositories. In the Celtic Lore, Morrigan is granted the rights to announce victory over the Fomorians. Odin is the Valfäder, father of victory, who pits himself against Jotnar, broadly equivalent to Fomorians and Titans. Both Morrigan and Odin employ sex as a spiritual allegory, with Morrigan a phantom queen consummating the seasons with Dagda the God of life. Odin himself walks both sides of this line, he is a ‘death god,’ but sacrifices himself to himself in shamanic trance to gain power of new life. In his Trinitarian aspect Odin is responsible for creating the first men from trees. The gifts he gives are breath, soul and good colour. That colour is red. Blood, sure. But also hair colour, and the pink on a woman’s cheeks, the reddening of a man’s chest in the cold. Babdh is the name Morrigan takes when she stalks heroes to pursue their Gea, or their magickal destiny. She is in this form the Red Goddess. Like Dagdha, their redness was noted as their attribution of power. Daghda you’ll recall was called Ruach Rofessa, the red one of perfected knowledge. Both Odin and Morrigan concerned themselves with the fates of heroes and stalked them relentlessly in a bid to secure their future destinies. Similarly, both were keen to manipulate life and death. Morrigan had a sector in the Otherworld where she could restore wounded warriors to new life and mend their bodies. Odin had such a hall called Valhalla. There is also the concept of sovereignty. Morrigan’s name translates as Great Queen, and Odin was sovereign over his Gods.
Now Odin, we all know, received the Runes. Those of us familiar know it was quite the ordeal. Pierced through his gut upon the tree of life, by his own hand he crucified himself. Odin sacrificed unto Odin, God alive to God of death. Screaming he seized the runes, 9 by 9, for each of the days and nights he hung, his blood feeding the bark. He fell back to the earth, renewed by the occult knowledge. Each of the symbols he saw twisted in Yggdrasil’s branches became one of the primal Runes, and knowledge of these granted a man power to bind and loose. Odin guarded these secrets viciously but gave them to his trusted sons, notably Heimdall, to dispense as he saw fit to mortals worthy of note.
Oghma is whom the Ogham script is named for. I cannot say what the story is behind Oghma’s devising the sigils of the Celts, but of them there is much to say. It is said that of the Gods Lugh first saw them, what Oghma the Sun Face devised. The Ogham, like Runes, were a tree alphabet. Ogham perhaps more than Runes, though it can be argued the Runes themselves resemble the branches more than Ogham. Regardless. Both are arcane letters used by Gods for occult purposes and shared among mortals for enlightenment. We take the extreme power of literacy for granted, and to be fair, not all of us deserve it. That said.
There are some parallels to draw between Odin and Oghma. Oghma is a God of eloquence. So is Odin. Oghma wins battles through wit. So does Odin. It appears they differ in that Oghma is a Sun God, whereas Odin is depicted as dark and gloomy, a night sentinel. Is this fair? In a word, “no.” Oghma Sun Face parallels Odin in this for several reasons. Odin wears his starlit robe. But he also possesses the golden helmet. Gold was always associated with sunlight because of the way it glittered, that is one of the reasons it was so highly valued.
However, where the similarities really shine is with one of Odin’s many sons, Bragi. Bragi is said to have had his very tongue carved into with Runes of elegance. Now Ogmios? Oghma was said to have had his tongue pierced by golden chains which latched onto the ears of his followers. These should be understood as metaphors, as metaphor is something our evolutionarily regressive brethren struggle with. Caved in head brainlets rejoice, the big brained centrist Nibba Reich is here to save you! There is a surviving tendency in Alchemy (itself a repository of hodge-podge esoterica) to equate the golden chain/cord to the spiritual tether. Their inspiration for this is ancient. Consider a passage from the Old Testament Book of Ecclesiastes wherein Solomon notes that the golden cord is loosed, the silver bowl broken and the cistern broken at the well. It is death of which he speaks, Ecclesiastes speaks to the great soul death of spiritual malaise, of creeping nihilism and faithlessness. A fate worse than the inevitable decay of the corpse you leave behind, oh son of man. Would that the maggots take you and spare your corpse, lest like the very dwarves from whose maggots were sculpted you become petty and debased as Solomon. Oghma, Sun Face, whose words are as golden sunlight, send forth their chains, enrapturing his clan – in so doing, they share in his very soul. This is no great revelation. Mystery Cults are much discussed in relation to the New Testament, but they were not any more new then than they were in Solomon King’s time. Similarly, by stamping his tongue with the Runes, whose very name means mystery, we understand that the act of speaking for Bragi would have brought enlightenment to those who heard him.
There is another aspect of this Mystery, and that is devotional mutilation. In some ways the personal deformation of a spiritual candidate meant he was marked by the Gods. Just ask Varg about sacred gimps. Whatever. I have discussed this elsewhere, see my essay on Sacrificial Deities for a prime example. The basis is that in the case of a God, such a defect as Bragi’s tongue or Oghma’s, Odin’s mangled eye socket, or Tyr and Nuadhu’s savaged hand are symbolic. Odin is a God of prophecy, his eyes are his weapon. Tyr and Nuadhu swordsmen, their hands were their manhood. Bragi and Oghma soothsayer’s, their tongues are their sharpest swords. To risk their mutilation means these Gods are willing to gamble their very essence in pursuit of will to power. Odin’s ability to prophesy cost him an eye, in losing one eye, his remaining eye sees farther than two. In sacrificing his hand, Tyr exemplifies bravery in a way no other God could. And so forth.
Part of Odin’s prophecy came from his use of the Mead of Poetry. In this regard he is similar to Zeus with the Nektar. Both Gods are responsible for distributing this nourishing drink. In the Greek one gets the impression that the Nektar had less to do with healing the bodies of the immortal Gods as sustaining their souls. And in the Norse, the Mead of Poetry indeed feeds the soul and inspires the spirit.
Before we move too far away from this cluster of thought, when it comes to death of the body and transmigration of the soul, water was a tremendous motif in relation to the rebirth process. Waters of life are timeless. However, Greece is sometimes singled out as being a solitary keeper of a Ferryman. Bollocks. Finnish mythology had a river of death. Tuonela, I think. However, in one obscure story in Norse Religion called Harbard’s Flyting you encounter Odin disguised as the titular ferryman. Thor comes rumbling about and wishes to cross the river, but the Ferryman refuses. The two get into a pitched battle of boasts and wits which exposit the beneficiary traits of each God, with Thor seemingly oblivious to Harbard’s true nature. Functional allegory aside, wherein Odin bespeaks his occult dealings and pursuit of wisdom and Thor of his absolute violence against hostile aliens, there is another element that seems neglected. In this guise of Ferryman Odin betrays his ultimate function as chooser of the slain. By refusing to ferry his son, Thor, by deeming him unworthy to cross a river symbolic of death, Odin acts as Charon. Odin refuses to allow his son to cross death’s domain.
Geographically speaking, the motifs were fairly stable. There was a river, an underworld and a field of paradise. Even in the Old Testament, there was a river outside Eden, and one gets the impression Eden was a garden planted in a field.
Speaking of water and waters of life. There is the question of the Sea God. Our peoples were nomadic, yet the Sea Gods play a decidedly backseat role to the major players. One would think that given the value of water to our race that the Sea Gods would hold a higher place in pantheon. Rather the opposite, they appear to diminish as the mythopoeic cycles turn. In the Norse, who were no strangers to seafaring, Njord and Aegir are woefully underrepresented. So too with the Greeks for Poseidon and Oceanus. Oceanus, whose very body held Gaia and received her as Terra Firma!! Yet, Aegir and Njord are more party hosts than heroes or Gods. And so it was too for Manannan who hosted feasts at Emain Ablach. True, Poseidon was going to be king of Athens that one time, but even there, it was in a competition of who could be more hospitable to the people – and Poseidon lost.

I surmise that the element of Water was more important to the Old European, as it was with Earth. So when the Aryans brought the triumphant Sky Gods, the Sea God along with the Earth Mother might have lost clout. But nevertheless water maintained an incredible symbolic motif and power, illustrated perfectly by the Celtic well and lake Goddesses, whose prime example is Coventina who reclined on a leaf in the lake but was accompanied by two maidens with pitchers who treated with water. This reminds us at once of the Norns who use waters from the Well of Urd (the deep past) to keep Yggdrasil the world tree alive. They two are shown drawing water from the well to do it, with their pitchers. Similarly, the Muses were said to tend springs, and Heimdall the Norse God had 9 Mothers, for it was believed there were nine waves with a Goddess for Each – some take this to mean he was born 9 times in succession before reaching his final form.
But let us speak now of the Earth Mother. Mother Earth remains with us to this day, and She has been with every European tribe in her own way. Among the Greeks and Norse Mother Earth was a literal Goddess, Gaia in Greece and Jord in Norse and Terra in Rome. Now, these are distinctive, but in Celtic myths, most Goddesses are Goddesses of Earth or Water. It seems reasonable to assume that this was once the norm for ALL European peoples before the integration of the Aryan Sky Gods. It also makes sense that the various Earth or Water Goddesses would take on a singular representative persona. The Celtic peoples, not receiving Sky Gods as easily as Germans, would have had no need for explicit Earth Goddesses, just as the Germans did not need explicit Sky Gods, where the Celts make special note of their fleeting few. Which I think explains why Gaia-Terra and Jord stand seemingly apart, they might represent consolidations of generations of Earth Goddesses. In a sense, varying versions of archetypical Goddesses were reunited into singular monads.
Of course, in time, even these monads were further refined until we come to the Mother Earth figure of the English, then and now. In England a sublime syncretism happened. Free elements of Greek were incorporated into an Anglo-Saxon worldview which was seemingly imbued with Celtic mysticism.
This in no way diminishes their properties. For Jord was mother of Thor, and Gaia gave her body to become the living planet upon which we breathe. To the Celts blood and soil were sovereign realities, and the Earth Mother appears to be the sovereign spirit. To the Irish that would be Erin who took over for Danaan.
At any rate, the role of Earth Goddess was often neatly tied into the role of Death Goddess. In some places Hela grew apples! We’ll get to that soon, I promise. The Earth herself had caverns, wombs, and there was an intricate web of intrigue related Earth, Death and Rebirth with the mythic womb. In some art, guardians of Death were depicted as well fed women with their legs situated as gates to pass through, and their wombs quite ajar, waiting to receive a host. Other art showed the womb as a cave, awaiting inhabitants to emerge from the death and deathly earth.
Likely is that Oracular cults tied in some mysterious way to the Death Goddesses. Consider the Greek Oracles who lived in caves and uttered prophecies that often required priests to comprehend. This shares a firm parallel with the adventures of Odin, who constantly seeks out Völvar, or risen seeresses. It is intoned that they rise from the dead, but given the climate of attitudes regarding the Inner Earth, a witch in a cave is symbolic of a witch shepherding death. So perhaps Odin dragged the Völvar from barrows to inquire. Mind you still in Ireland the deathly goddesses clearly reside within the Earth. Moreover, in the Celtic mind, babble or else obscure prophecy, was a clear markation of otherworldly knowledge. Hence the woman who stands on one foot, hands locked, with an eye closed to symbolise being between life and death, underworld and overworld, in order to utter fates.
Now, speaking of obscure Celtic Goddesses about whom I wish I knew more, there is the titillating theory that Scathach of the Scottish is in a way related to Skadi of the Norse. Now Skadi in a sense can be seen in a way like the Goddess Nemesis. Her role seems exclusively focused on righting wrongs; avenging her father, avenging her new family, avenging Njord’s foot. Whatever. Feminine avengeing spirits are a distinctive European element, with Fetches, or Fylgjur being shown as white and black robed women following a man. Valkyries in a sense are akin to Furies, in that they deal death, only the Furies have a decidedly moralistic bent and don’t work for anyone. Given a woman’s love of citing rules and pronouncing judgements, it is not a far fetch to make.
Before we drift too terribly far I should like to make mention of Merlin in relationship to the North. You are familiar with the idiot notion of Vikings with their horned helmets, yeah? You’re of course aware of the fact that this moron idea came from a pair of horned helmets found in a grave mound? Of course you are. Scholars surmise the horned helmets depicted were likely aspects of Odin in his ritual and occult mode. It’s worth mentioning that Merlin is depicted as actively wearing furs and robes with a helm of stag’s horns to work his wild magick. It is unlikely that the two are unrelated. Before you huff and puff and blow the house down, do recall that the majority of ancient Celtic artefacts were scrounged up from Danish soil, indicating the Celts were closely related to the Nords before their migration.
So there.
Hela’s name refers to brightness. So does the Irish Brigid’s. In Irish mythology Brigid was a Goddess of Light, whose task it was to seize spring from the clutches of the Cailleach every year so that the crops could grow and cattle graze. However, their similarities begin to taper there, in that Hela became a chthonic Goddess, whereas Brigid remained largely terrestrial, if not celestial. In this she has more in common with the German, Roman and Greek Goddesses. Now, an important function all cultures shared was that the Hearth was regarded as central to the home, and the home to prayer. It is said our ancestors preferred worship in nature, this is true, but a sacred space indoors was always reserved, what would become the domestic church of today. Arguably the only church safe from the throes of globalism.
The hearth Goddesses are Brigid, Var, Vesta and Hestia. It is presumptive that Hestia and Vesta are the same Goddess, merely geographically refined, with their functions and forms overlapping. She had a place in every hearth, and was party to a sacred flame. That flame had to be kept in perpetuity, and was rekindled each year in a special precession. Sometimes symbolic coal was used to kindle other sacred fires, so that it could be said the same flame burned throughout the empire. That being said, the similarities between the Irish and Graeco-Roman customs are uncanny. Brigid had her temple, where the flame was kept in perpetuity. And while it is a separate flame, there was another fire which lit all the Samhain fires in Ireland. Now Brigid, like Vesta, concerned herself greatly with domestic matters. She helped Druids recall genealogies, she inspired poetry and craft. In this she was similar to the Nordic Var, who was said to hear all prayers muttered over hearths, and to witness all private contracts. Nothing is said of her except that she punished those who broke faith.
Another aspect to consider is that a role of the Hearth is the transmission of culture. Religion was bred and developed in the home and exported to the village, where the priests formulised it and the villagers imported back into the home. It was an organic cycle. In the beginning, the hearth was all, but as society became more complex, public worship increased. The hearth remained a place to conduct true worship. Annals of Rome indicate that public worship was a show, more a communal activity, but heartfelt prayers and spirituality were reserved for the hearth. It makes sense then when we hear that Var hears every heartfelt prayer by the hearth. Or when it’s made clear that Brigid helps men remember their lineages, and teaches things like metalwork and crafting – those are important Celtic skills whose transmission contribute to culture, eh?
Now this is an important learning lesson. Often the tired refrain is that we are but a shadow of our ancestors. In addition to our being our ancestors replayed for a modern audience, thereby negating that foul logic, there is something to nevertheless give thought to. We are left with the clear impression that our ancestors were hardier and in a way, happier than us. I contest the happier indication. But, this I will agree with, our ancestors were probably more complete. Why?
They had concentric culture. The Odal or Oikos, being the holistic home, was the centre of all live. Beyond this was the Demos, or Folk, being the people. These comprised the Polis or the Kingdom, being the State. In each case these were considered one organism. In the past, the upholstery of a Hearth Goddess would have kept a balance. Via the Hearth Goddess, whose statutes informed the public registry of worship and in turn was influenced by them, the State would live in your Home. By encouraging Ancestor Cult, the Hearth Goddess also kept you in tune with your People.
Thereby for our kind, there was one social organism comprised of organic parts. The Home was the soul, the Folk the heart and the Kingdom the lungs. Today, there is no hearth for most, no connection that ties these elements together, and so everything appears to be a disparate mass of disconnected, confusing elements. It’s all very tragic.
It’s no wonder, then, when we consider Rome’s portents of how Rome would stand as long as Vesta’s fire burned. When the hearths went silent, Roman culture died. It flickers still in Catholic prayer candles, just as Hestia’s flame flickers in Orthodox prayer candles, but their light casts a bigger shadow than their fire can dispel. And as these candles are gradually snuffed and traded for cheap globalist tinsel, there is a growing, gnawing dread that consumerism promises to fulfil if only you buy just one more product, get excited for this one last last thing…
So. Is what the naysayers say true? Are we so far removed from the hearth that it must remain cold? No. Of course not. There is never any justifiable excuse for nihilism. That is a trick. A vile and odious lie, slander of the weakest, and yet curiously most effective calibre. No. Brigid’s candles are still lit by Catholic Nuns. And you, you can easily erect a Lararium in your house if you choose, like a Good European. There you can venerate the Gods of your choosing, or commemorate your dead. All things the Hearth Goddess would have encouraged.
Who knows. Maybe lighting that hearthfire will shine a light on an aspect of your struggle to seize culture you would not have expected. It has mine, and my wife’s. My ongoing prayer for which I have offered sacrifice is that it will do so for my son, and all the other children I hope to bring with my wife into this world. A world that can only change for the better if we all of us who call eachother brother become Paterfamilias and light the hearthfire together.
Think about it. Forget about your high and mighty notions and infinite reasons why nothing would ever work because reasons. Let’s say you raise your son, his cradle to your grave, with culture in the home, with stories and ideas. That becomes his life, his reality. Who cares if you have a funny feeling at first? Who cares if you have doubts about this, or questions about that? Think about your own childhood, chances are if you’re like me you got to a certain point and realised there’s a black hole where your culture should be. That hurts, man, I’m telling you. Why do it to your sons and daughters?
This Hearth Culture is more than setting tablecloths or putting away dishes – though that ambience improves quality of life. It is also the moral education, the experiential lessons and the feeling of true bonding and love. Even beyond love it is the feeling of awe, and of wonder, the thought that we don’t have to live this way, and that in time, we will make it better. Or even merely that life is, on its own, quite good. We can have what we need, and we don’t need more. You don’t get that from a Home ruled by the Enemy and their servants Education, Media and the Court. You get it from real culture, bred at home. Something your children will recognise as surely as we know the pain of absence. Less than a hundred years ago, a vast tract of the American child’s shared mythos was Greek mythology and the Bible, to make an example. As late as 1955, and I know in many parts that tradition lasted much later. So. Tell me again why our children can’t have that and more? Why can’t we give them everything I’m giving you, and more, scaled as they grow older? What would their futures be, with a more complete appraisal of a mythic life from birth?
They in turn remember the good times from their childhoods and seek to give that to their children. Where does it all begin again? In the home. Not even our ancestors, who almost to a T had a healthier relationship with their respective States than us, didn’t trust the State enough to quit education in the home or snuff the Hearthfire. In this, the generation of the 68ers are the most profoundly ignorant generation to ever wear the proverbial dunce hat. So. The Hearthfire, whether you care to admit it, is a real and important thing that must be preserved. Light it, our culture has new life, keep it alight, that light burns brighter into the future. Light the Hearthfire and then remind me the Fourteen Words. They go together like hand in hand, man in woman.
One is inclined to view the Queens of the Gods as expressed in Greece, Rome and Scandinavia quite differently. After all, Frigga and Hera appear very distinct from one another. Frigga seems loving and warm, whilst Hera seems contrite and distant, vengeful, fickle. This may have more to do with the classical Greek attitudes regarding women than the Goddess Herself. I submit to you the name Hera itself. Hera may in fact be a title, and not a name. It has been supposed Hera is an old word meaning ‘queen.’ It is furthermore possible that this name would be related to Eriloz/Erilaz, the enigmatic PIE reconstruction from which the common words for ruler are derived. Note that the German Herr is the descendant of Eriloz, as is the Nordic Herriar. Both refer to lordliness. Also worthy of note is the fact that there was a word referring to a collective of Gods in Etruria called Aiseras, which is principally similar in form to the Nordic Aesir and Vedic Asuras. It is possible, indeed probable, that these may be linked.
If this distinction can be made, than there is a potential for there being a similar situation with Hera as to the Nordic Frigga. Freyja was a title, and it meant ‘lady.’ Some believe, with due cause, that Freyja herself is a title of Frigga. Only the Northern German distinguishes between the two, where every other Germanic tribe had a variant of the one Goddess. There was Frige, Frija, among others. This option becomes viable when you consider the Etruscan Herentina, Herentina was similar to Hera in many respects, but was regarded as the Romans concomitant to the day to be a guise of Venus. Some believe Herentina in fact was a title used by Venus. If the Mediterranean and Nordic Goddesses once shared the title before the progeny of Eriloz became masculine in the North, than we might infer the unity of the characters of Frigga and Hera as a singular Goddess represented with geographic and evolutionary variance.
Furthermore you might also work in several other facets of etymology. Hera was married to Zeus. Zeus evolves as Tyr does from the reconstructed PIE Tiwaz, which also gives us the Diu as in Diu-Pater (Jupiter.) Given that Tyr was itself a cognomen of Odin, it might lead us back to the same progenitry of the primal God and Goddess which have in the Low Countries been called Ziu and Zisa. Something to consider.
A brother and a friend asked me, perhaps with his tongue in his cheek, and perhaps not, where exactly Lucifer fit into all this. Lucifer is a Promethean figure, no doubt, as we both know. It has been said by some cultists, perplexing me in my youth, that Lucifer was the true God of Europe. The passing statement has been lodged in the dustier corners of my cerebellum ever since. At the time the statement seemed pointless and edgy, and even now the amount of preface the supposition requires makes the explanation arduous. But, here we are, willing to be fastidious in our approach and bold in our quest to plumb the depths.
Lucifer. The Light Bearer. The root of this name is Lux, in Latin. We all know this, yeah? What is the meaning of Lugh’s name, but light? Lugus was the Gaulish, and we know Gaulish and Latin shared many such cognates, as with Rex and Rig being both King. And who was Lugus? God of the Dawn, we recall, the rising sun. So was Lucifer called the morning star. Given the generally underwhelming glut, by which I mean absence, of material on Lucifer named in Scripture one must assume he is a post-scriptural fabrication along with Mephistopholes and Baphomet with the latter being a combination of several European beast-God archetypes such as Pan and Herne, though it can be argued even these borrow Promethean archetypes and twist good into evil, much as one would expect a devil to do. There is another point, wherein I shall add that to the Norse, Ljusalfheim was a heavenly home. How are they tied together, in theme and substance? Listen, and I shall speak my mind.
All of the above are cognate to our English Light. Lëoht was the Old English, Licht is the modern German. You should see where they all liken to one another. It is not hard. That said. Lugus is lesser known than Lugh, but it is worth guessing to their similitude. Most of the Irish Gods were carried on the backs of itinerant Celts anyway, with many scholars blanketly assuming that the Irish Gods represent an uncorrupted form of the Gaulish Gods touched by Interpretatio Romana, these same scholars neglect to calculate the transformative effect of travel and migration on the Irish Gods whose very myths stink of vagabond’s sandals. I digress.
Lugh was a God of Light. He became King of the Gods, a light above all. He was Samildanach, a title of reverence indicating his aptitude in all things. In this, he is enlightened. He came to the court of the Tuatha de Danaan and won kingship over the mangled and defective Nuadhu by rite of superiority. In another tale Lugh appears to a woman in her dreams and inseminates her as Virgin Mothers are wont to be. In this way Lugh becomes Setanta, as Setanta becomes Cuchulainn, Ireland’s premier mythic hero. Lugh in a way was the ultimate ancestral God to Cuchulainn, literally becoming his own progeny. A dire implication.
In the Nordic lands, you should understand, there were a variety of elves, called Alfar. These were much like the Sidhe and the Fae of Ireland, you see. The Elves are ethereal creatures, but were once known as ancestral spirits of warriors. Some of the Alfar went below the ground and became Svartalfar, sometimes called dwarves, or Dvergar. These were tainted ancestral spirits, with Dvergar specifically being noted as having physical bodies sculpted from decomposing maggots. A fitting description of crippled devils with a lust for gold and usury. Now. Some luminous spirits went on to become the Ljusalfar, or light elves. These were seen as being much like the Christians imagined Angels. Angelos, mind you, was a Greek term for messenger and even the old Christians argued if Angels were risen men or lesser gods. Still, the Ljusalfar were said to be beings sheathed in light, a light that disguised their shape. So did Saint Paul view the celestial body later Christians imposed on the seraphic Angelos.
The ascended ancestor spirits were assumed to be sheathed in light, as Lugh was the personification of light as well as an ancestor to heroes. So we see in the shape of Lucifer a figure who shines a light in dark places, this morning star, who enlightens the fatigued and weary. But where the Christians saw a devil, our people saw a saint. Lugh shared good company with Prometheus and Odin, who both drew up enlightenment from dark and deathly shadows and suffered for their painful initiations.
Say what you will of the broader spiritual implications, it is inescapable that to our ancestors the Liturgical Season exposited a natural drama. There were no mere seasons, the entirely of the year was a passion play, and our ancestors were proxy participants. Moreover, all our peoples share in the concept that there were Gods who rose and fell with the seasons in perpetuity. There was a drama involved, as well.
To the Greeks it was the maiden Persephone, who, in her laudable innocence went picking flowers and was swallowed whole by lusty Hades into the Earth. She was tricked into eating the fruit of the dead, being pomegranate, and was thus bound by natural law to stay. She was allowed to return to Gaia, but was compelled to return to Hades. She would return in the fall and winter ensued, but she would come again in the spring and summer would follow. She eventually came to cherish her role as Queen of the Dead, and came to much resemble Hela in this respect, a quiet and dark Goddess replete with foreboding. Moreoever also in Greece, for those who had not heard of Persephone, there was the fact that Apollo the Sun God routinely travelled to Hyperborea in the winter, presumably bring the sun with him there.
Similar in scope is the tale of Baldur. While not directly a solar deity, Baldur is deific in his paschal role, it is clear that mirth and gaiety stem from him. When Loki tricked Baldur’s brother Hod into killing him, so also did mirth die in Asgard. There are no more recorded jokes from his death until the time of Ragnarok. Bear in mind, the world was created in spring like conditions, from melting ice and mist. The world similarly perishes after an ensuing winter, and it is clear Baldur plays a role in the maintenance of the 9 Worlds. It is my belief that sheer will is what kept the mortal coil aloft, for Baldur’s death represents loss of face and nerve. Nevertheless, after Ragnarok, Baldur returns into a new creation. This satisfies the requisite motif of seasonal conflict tieing into resurrection. There are other Germanic traditions less defined and attested to, such as those fertility rites in England of the waxing Goddess and waning priest, but none as dramatic as Baldurs Draumar.
A quick note about Baldur before moving on. There is an allegory to be made here. We spoke elsewhere about the potential equivalency of Hera with Frigga. As Hera might be interchangeable with Aphrodite in the same way Frigga is with Hera. If we can successfully make the case that Hera, great queen, and Frigga, great queen, are aspects of the Love Goddess Freyja-Aphrodite than this would mean that Baldur, being the Son of the Goddess of Love and Motherhood, is similar to Cupid who would also now be the son of the Goddess of Love and Motherhood. In many ways the roles of Cupid and Baldur intersect. Cupid with his arrow brings love and mirth and causes relationships to bloom, Baldur with his innocence brings laughter and mirth, and, incidentally, marriages had been held in his hall. Furthermore, it was precisely an arrow that brought about Baldur’s downfall, and an arrow is what Cupid uses to bring falls down. Cupid’s Greek name was Eros, from which we get erotic love, but one gets the idea given Eros’ presence in prehistory that Eros originally was a kind of generative light, in the same way Baldur is a sustaining light. Something to think about. Finally, I wish to draw attention to the potential connection to Belenos (from Bel, shining, Baldur and Ba’al. All of their names, and to a degree maybe Balor’s, indicate some form of light.
Now we consider the Celtic races. You had the idea that the maiden Goddess Brigid whose name is related to brightness, was in perpetual warfare with the crone Goddess Cailleach (think Kali). When came the time for winter Cailleach would smash the ground with her hammer and curse the ground to become hard as iron, yielding no fruit nor herb. Brigid would marshal her power and in the spring sprinkle her holy water on the ground, thawing it. More than this there is the drama between Arthur and Morgen, or Morgana who is an obvious incarnation of the Morrighan. Arthur was likely once a God, his symbol was the bear which the pre-Aryan shamans saw as celestial, or, luminous – so it went with the Finns and the Great Bear, you shall recall. Arthur was heralded by Merlin, himself likely having once been a God, but who serves as a shaman in the tradition of Herne. Morgan eventually takes Arthur, a God of Starlight thrice removed, into her kingdom, the underworld thrice removed. It is said that someday Arthur shall return someday in Britain’s day of need, a day that the Britons perhaps expected to sound like a Saxon Ragnarok. This is noteworthy because Arthur participated in a boar hunt into the underworld when living and rescued Maponius, who was naught but Mabon God of Light in disguise. The motif is clear, Arthur breaks the sun out of hell and lets light come back to earth. He himself is a light unto himself trapped in Avalon, a land where souls await rebirth. When he returns he shall bring a kind of light with him.
If we accept that the inclement Aryans brought the Sky Gods with them, than it behoves us to look at what similarities the pantheons had. The Aryan Sky Gods were hierarchical. This much we can see. There is a King of the Gods, he himself tends to embody the sky. His close relation is the Storm God, and often, their lines are blurred. Some other times, the role is defined, redefined or even traded. The syncretism can be difficult to find, but there is a commonality at the beating heart of the Aryan memory, conjoined as it is with the heaving lungs of European thought.
God is at the root of the matter. However, this God is not the one to whom we have become accustomed, with the personal pronouns all capsed in the Victorian era. We are looking into the Proto Indo European realm, now. PIE, for short. Tiwaz is one of the oldest reconstructed names. And, yes, you may presume that owing reconstructed language we may not know with objective certainty the ID of the God. However, the science is compelling enough to embrace. PIE being cross-referenced from a plethora of cognate languages traced backwards through their own progressions.
We know that Tiwaz would become Deus in Latin and Theos in Greek. In Scandinavia it became Tyr, in High German, Ziu, in Old English, Tiw. These again are supposedly related to the Vedic Daiyous. In Greece the personal name Tiwaz became Zeus. In Rome it became Dio-Pater, and was eventually contracted to Jupiter. Now. Here comes some speculation, but such is life. The PIE Tiwaz and his subsequent transmutations were likely a title. This is made obvious by the case of Dio-Pater whose personal name was Jove. However, an interesting case is that so it also goes with Odin. Odin is called Tyr, many times. Bear with me, I know some of you in the Tyrsman camp will object, and perhaps I shall overrule you.
In the case of Odin, he has many nicknames. One of his most famous is Hangatyr, often translated as the Hanged God, or God of the hanged. So, for those not familiar, there is a camp that believes the rightful God King is Tyr because of the etymology intoned. However, methinks we can have our cake and eat it too, unless you’re diabetic or on keto. A common argument, the descriptions of injuries are succinct and vivid. Tyr lost a hand to the wolf. Odin lost an eye to the well.
Consider the Irish God Nuadu. I have made the case before that it is interesting the parallels, both might have been Kings of the Gods, both lost a hand fighting giants. Now. This seems to indicate that if they were mutually recognisable, that would leave Odin out. However, there is an obscure tendency in Irish witchcraft in which one assumes a stance of one leg, one eye and one hand. In a sense it seems that to work those magicks, one halves themselves. Or truly seek better balance.
Consider also, Odin’s profound absence from the story of Tyr losing his hand. If there was a mass campaign and conspiracy to dethrone Tyr and replace him with Odin, one might assume Odin would gain all the favourable tales. After all, Odin sacrificed more than a hand for less on occasion. Alas alack, onward we go.
Now speaking of the Celts, there was the obscure deity Taranis about whom I wish I knew more. He was clearly equated with Jupiter by the Romans, and the reasoning is clear, he carried a thunderbolt and was a Sky God. But he also carried a wheel, which connects him to another facet above and beyond the obvious importance of chariots, a Gaulish invention, and that is a connection to the Storm God motif. A frequently blurred line, a fact that can’t be mentioned enough.
Now. Of these Gods Zeus seems to be the only Storm God. In Roman mythology Jove is depicted akin to Zeus, but arguably has much less to do with weather. Odin and the rest appear content to leave Sky Kinging to others. There is a blurred line, as I said, between Sky God and Storm God, as is the case with the slice of PIE that give us a number of other Gods. You have the other root word, Thurisaz, which gives us Thor, and the odd Finnish God Tursas.
We’ll start with Thor, from Thurisaz. Thor of the Norse has extremely well defined and attested characteristics. He is a big son of a gun. He has flaming red hair, a beard, and flashing eyes. He is a wicked burly bastard, so big and strong that he cannot cross Bifrost, a rainbow bridge, without shattering it. He summons rain and lightning. He carries a hammer, Mjolnir, which is so strong he needs a lifting belt and a pair of gloves to properly wield it. Thor, my friends, is obviously a trans-God. Transitioning from Powerlift to Cross fit. This puts Thor in an archetypical category with many Gods. He is commonly associated with Jove-Zeus, and to a degree therefore, also Taranis. All reasonable, no?
Thor and Jupiter. Easily done, yeah? Thor and Jove control the weather and possess the lightning bolt. Thor and Taranis? Also easy. Taranis is shown holding a wheel, presumably a wheel from a wagon or chariot. Thor is the God explicitly mentioned as riding in a chariot. Now. There is another bridge to cross with Thor. There are several competing models that Thor could pass for in Celtic religion, notably the Dagdha. Thor has a hammer, in English called the Miller (crusher, that’s what miller means.) With Mjolnir Thor is wont to shatter bone and generally murder enemies in the most delightfully savage of ways. Crush them into meal (product of the mill,) sure. Break, smash, crush, strangle. Thor. Represents in a way the violent power fantasies of the man with protective instincts. There was a reason Thor was favoured by families. In a way, he made a better candidate for All Father than Odin, if only for the fact that the average father loved him.
Dagdha, as promised. Dagdha has a club, with a stroke he can kill nine men, and with a stroke bring nine to life. In the story of Thialfi’s indenture, Thor uses his hammer to bring one of his goats back to life after being eaten. This returns us to Celtic myth in two ways. It seems obviously reminiscent of Dagdha’s club, but there is also the question of one facet of Irish myth worth mentioning. That would be the resurrected pigs owned by Goibniu, the Smith God under Dagdha’s rule. This pig was killed and eaten at a special feast in Emain Ablach but awoke in the morning with skin again as if no harm had befallen it.
You might protest, these are all very dissimilar. Are they? Consider the vast timeframe over which our Race spread. The unknowable past before the hypothetical blending of the Aryan and European produced a set of core myths that were translated across a thousand years of Vagabond’s dreams. Thus, with the span of a thousand miles or more, and a thousand years of settling, for the Nordic and Celtic tales to emerge separately from a long muddied ancestral memory with differences of opinion should be expected. That the degree of similitude is so high is what should be considered shocking.
Elementally, you have a weather God, which both Thor and Dagda are. Remember, Dagda is a title, it means Good God, and he is good for he leads the weather. So it was with Thor, who while not called the Good God, was always known as one, and seen as the one closest to mankind. Now. Is it a stretch to assume that as time went on, that Dagda might have evolved from Taranis as the chariot sped him across Gaul and toward his Irish fate? Is it that hard to imagine that at this same time he travelled East and North to Scandinavia and became Thor, who never quit his chariot when he reached his destination? The God travelled with a weapon which harnessed the weather, and he had in his retinue a means to resurrect livestock. A motif. What began as a pig might have become a goat, depending on what livestock were available to the people telling the story. For the same reason, in the Greek vs. Norse creation story, it is not so troublesome that in Greece it was a Goat Amalthea who suckled Zeus a God, and in Norse a cow Audhumbla which suckled Ymir a Giant.
Now, there is also the question of Sucellos the Good Striker, a Gaulish God supposed by many to be the Dagda. Like Dagda, Sucellos has been suggested as a title and not a name, leaving a very important question. What was the Storm God’s name, really, to the Celts? Taranis, too, seems more title than name. What’s more, both Dagda and Taranis appear to stem from a mutual word for God, which may yet relate to the old Tiwaz. Danaan, too.
Danaan, you shall recall, as in the Tuatha de Danaan, are the closest the Irish have to a traditional pantheon, albeit less defined as you like, for so go the Irish. The etymology of Dana, or Danu, has been described at length. But she does appear to be a Goddess of exceptional antiquity. It is possible she was a river Goddess, given her connexion with rivers and water bodies. Worth mentioning is that when Thor travels, he is routinely by river. And while it is true rivers have been called the roads of Old Europe, by the time the tales gained traction, the wheel of course had been invented, and the Gauls had invented roads to put them on. Thus, the river was not the only important means of transport.
Something to chew on. Baldur has been discussed in relation to Dark Goddesses, and it has been mentioned that Baldur himself is an eternal archetype. Call him the suffering son, Iesvs Khristos was the last avatar I can see recognising in this line, but that line is a long one, and a proud one. The suffering son is connected to the light, if only esoterically.
In Norse mythology Baldur’s light is the light of innocence. His character reeks of it, his sheets must have been dry as the desert in heat. He himself, despite his nomenclature, presented meekly, the apple of her parents eye. His death was the primal catalyst of Ragnarök, the entire Norse world unravels at his slaying. Tensions have been mounting for aeons. The Gods have kept peace and order, while Loki has undermined their efforts with constant tricks and insults and cowardice, and then the Giants and other hostile races have threatened it outright. While not a prominent figure, we learn quickly in Baldurs Draumar that this Boy God has held the God Worlds together with his innocence and charm. Laughter dies with him, and that loss is worse than the loss of Idun’s apples, worse than the loss of Tyr’s hand or Odin’s eye. You are left with the impression that had Baldur only lived, than the Ragnarök would have never come. The Listless Gods succumb to fates that seem unbecoming. Odin, swallowed at last by the wolf. Heimdall, shanked in the liver by Loki like he was an amateur beatcop. Thor, blinded by the Serpent of the Seven Seas. In each case the Gods were bested by creatures that were made out with painful obviousness to be their lesser in every preceding tale.
But why? Baldur, whose archetype is innocence, was lost. Without his innocence, the Gods quickly became dour and jaded. They seem resigned to their fates. It is true. There is another aspect, and this is the necessity of cyclical time. Consider if you will several vantages. In the Vedic tales, one anticipates the Kali Yuga. This is often compared with Ragnarök. Both are supposed to have 4 seasons before the end, and are followed by a rebirth. In the Vedic tales, the Kali Yuga is precipitated by the titular Goddess Kali. As a point of interest, there is the Celtic crone Goddess, Cailleach, which might have some relation. In the Celtic world, the Seasons were a cosmic struggle between light and Darkness. Brigid (the Bright One) opposes Cailleach who shatters the ground with her hammer, turning it harder than iron, fruitless. Cailleach is very much a disruptive and entropic presence in Celtic lore. Kali, as I understand her, is similar, in that she uses destruction to return order. The Kali Yuga happens to reset a decaying world, much like a forest fire inspires huge forest growth. And Ragnarök? Ragnarök is an end preceded by endless winter. From this end, a spring, and a new world of apparent summer. The cosmic struggle seems clearer in this context.
Alas alack, my friend I must digress. It was the Suffering Son, the point of Light, we must discuss. Separate from the Sol Invictus archetype embodied in Apollo and Sunna who know no suffering, there is also the Light which stands to lose to Darkness. After all, there is no hiding the fact that bright Baldur is killed by Hodur whose name relates to darkness. A blind brother, to boot, the very obvious embodiment of ignorant darkness as an entropic force. Hod was not evil on his own count, he was a tragic hero, as darkness often is, manipulated by evil to do evil things. This he shares in common with Kali Maa, who herself is not evil, but is seen as evil by those who would twist nature to their own designs.
In Celtic myth there is Mabon, about whom less than desired is known. Mabon, however, we do know, represented light. But he was also kidnapped and hidden in the underworld. One might imagine this occurred in conjunction with Cailleach raising her hammer to smite the earth. In Welsh mythology Arthur has to rescue Mapon from the underworld, a probable re-enactment of a cosmic drama. This might survive in Celtic Mythology as the Summer and Winter King, in which duelling Gods cause the seasons, akin to Brigid and Cailleach the spring and fall queens. Note also that even the Greeks have a similar notion. Apollo, the obvious candidate for Summer King, leaves for Hyperboria in the Winter. He takes the Sun with him, and during this it was believed that Dionysus rules and gains followers through revels until Apollo returns again and banishes the summer, bringing an age of athletics and ascetics with him, cruel, burning sun.
In Greece, the suffering son was a daughter, she was Persephone. Proserpina if you spoke Latin. Like Mabon, she was kidnapped and dragged to the underworld. Now, one might note that there appears to be gender bending. This is explained in some ways by the measurement of the Solstice and climate. In Rome and Greece, the Sun was Masculine, and seems to be in Celtic cultures too. This is explained that in Rome and Greece the sun is harsh, unforgiving, Apollo shot deadly arrows, after all. The moon was seen as feminine, being gentle and reassuring and mysterious. In the North, the land was harsher and colder, the Sun therefore was gentler, and seen as feminine. But the Moon was often masculine because in cold climes, the night is far more dangerous temperately speaking. So it goes with certain archetypes. It is also the function, of which gender was a part, than the superficial details that mattered.
One of the things that bothers acolytes most upon trying to come home to the native European Religions is the free use of what appears to be adultery in stories. One must be forgiven at first glance and without theological training to see many myths as instances of divine trailer trashionalism, in a holy methnostate. I get it. I do. I was young once. But we can answer these concerns very easily, if you suspend for a time your disbelief.
First. Let us operate in context of story. The Gods lived a very long time. It is unreasonable to expect that a God would be married to the same partner for, literally, all eternity. Especially when mortals have such a poor marital track record. Yes. I freely admit the Gods are human in their appearance. This does not threaten my world view, and it should not. To be so threatened makes you weak. I digress. If the lifespans of the Gods are technically without end, than it makes sense they would have had multiple relationships.
Furthermore, there is the school of thought that holds that every time a God ‘visits’ the world that he is ‘reincarnating,’ that is, taking on new flesh and a new life. If a God has unlimited ‘lives,’ than it also makes sense that they would be able to conceivably be able to remarry many times without technically committing adultery because they would simultaneously both be and not be themselves. Consider the story of Lugh where he informs he shall become an Avatar in Cuchulainn, born Setanta. Consider also the ideology of Brahma, in which you have a supreme and penultimate God in the Panentheist style. Literally, this means God both is and is in all. I can see the draw of the theory, in that there is the possibility that the European Gods are really just reinterpretations of the same God spread out over millennia of years and millions of collective travel miles. If it is possible that subsequent reincarnations of the Godhead are a single God reincarnating and developing additional persons, it changes the moral parameter. If the whole Brahma bit is the one God dreaming a dream of sentience, than the whole cycle of reincarnation into multiplicity in singularity can be understood as akin to a man gaining depth of personality wherein he dreams a dream he is someone else, but upon waking has to struggle to dispel uncomfortable elements of the dream wherein they seemed so real. In this way a monad can be a triad and the whole aspect of ‘divine adultery’ can be understood as the God revealing aspects of its personality through simulacrums, compartmentalised archetypes of the divine psyche continuously interacting as symbolic agents of self-continuity.
So there’s that.
My personal favourite, an explanation I have worked on for some time now, the one which I believe to be most true, is this. Sex is poetry, in mythology. When a God has sex and offspring, this might not be a literalist statement. Much in the same way there are hermeneutics of scripture wherein Gematria is employed to explain problematic passages, so you can assume Native Spirituality went.
Consider, nearly universal is the concept of Wisdom as being a feminine spirit. Sophia is the Greek Goddess who becomes the root word for philosophy. In the Old Testament, Wisdom appears to the Israelites in her Hebrew name, and later Aramaic and Greek. In Norse Mythology, Odin is depicted as a wanderer in search of wisdom, uncapitalised. However, if we consider that Wisdom was considered a spirit near universally, it changes our understanding of his quest. Furthermore, in Native Religious stories, adherence to nomenclature is to be advised. Take Zeus, often described as being lecherous and paltry, we must at least offer a defence. In his marriage to Hera he courted Goddesses and Mortals alike to create offspring. However. Mind their names. Mnemosyne his first gave the Muses. Her name means memory. Zeus’ name is akin to glory. And what do the Muses do? They sing of past deeds, help mortals remember their lineages. They commemorate glory. The whole relationship is poetry. So with Athena, too. Athena, we all know the tale, was born from the head of Zeus. Consider the metaphysical applications. The head is seat of the soul. Only the Mayans would have disagreed as they cut out your heart to eat. When we say she was born from Zeus’ head, we’re saying she came from his thoughts and very essence, after his own soul. In other words, she was in every way meant to be his successor. So when Odin woos Gunnlod in his attempt to steal the mead of poetry, is this some debased and lecherous act? Not necessarily. Wisdom, a feminine article, is something Odin loves. Gunnlod in this instance is a guardian of wisdom. When he lies with her, it is a metaphorical assent. Unlocking secrets of wisdom, is depicted like sleeping with a woman. Both are pleasurable, require significant build-up and foreplay, and should last awhile if both parties are going to get the most of it, and as we see with the story of Billing’s Daughter, there are ramifications when things don’t go your way. Sometimes chasing wisdom is a wild goose chase. Sometimes people laugh at you.
In the Bible itself, Wisdom, the feminine spirit, is explicitly stated as being there when God made the world. Wisdom is invoked by many saints and prophets as a person. So she is both a person and a metaphor, in a sense. But the pursuit of wisdom is a labour of love, this is the point. That is why the Greeks called it Philosophy. Love of Wisdom. Granted, in Greek there are five words for what we call love, and Philia is more a brotherly love than Eros, from which we gain erotica. Nevermind Storge, Mania and Agape for now. Still. As the new kids say, love is love, and seeking Wisdom, therefore, is a lover’s errand. Think about it. Learning is a long process, and that’s just for knowledge. If wisdom is a step beyond knowledge than it would naturally involve a tease and a tickle, gently flirting until Wisdom gives you what you want. You don’t just meet a girl and give her a run for your money overnight, do you? Bad example. Take the Trad Pill, long courtships make for better sex. (Says the man who never had sex with a woman that isn’t his wife.)
This attitude can also help alleviate confusion with the at times schizophrenic presentation of the Gods’ relationship with Giants. If we assume the metaphorical stance, it makes sense that if the Giant races represent the Gods of peoples that the peoples of the Gods were at war with, than naturally, they would seem monstrous. And yet, these peoples were often tribally interconnected, hence, they are still beautiful.
Or you could just take the Grug Pill and say Male Chauvinist Pig Bad. Orange Man Bad. Everything Bad. Whatever. You do you. But I’d like to think you’ll make the right choice.

This feels like it’s been a long one. But then again, why not? We have many ancestors, and our ancestors had many Gods, who themselves had ancestors. There is a lot to discuss. A great deal more than I can say. If raising the children takes a village than building the village needs a more active Männerbund. We’ll get there. My hope and prayer is that if nothing else, these paltry offerings of mine can stimulate your spiritual growth toward an organic culture that proudly carries our past along the line, devoid of blood libels, free of the mistakes that brought us here.
We owe our children this. Earlier I was watching the film Jüd Süß. At one point the good German, Herr Sturm, is explaining things to his kamaraden. If the Duke hits him on the nose for disobedience, it is his nose, but if their blood is wasted, than that, the blood belongs to the children. He also asks Süss Oppenheimer quite pointedly, “what do you know of honour?” A valuable question to ask the kind of man who laughs at tradition and sees his own culture’s tradition as quaint anachronisms that pale in glory before his true god, Moloch. Oppenheimer is hanged a traitor, and one that never belonged in Wurtemburg.
It is my duty to remind you that these movies, beautiful escapist fantasies with bittersweet endings, do us a minor disservice. We couch our terminology in terms such as betrayal, and so forth. However, in the case of parallel institutions, there is no case. Oppenheimer brought his cancer to a world with clear delineations. By the grace of their god, Herzog Karl was duke of Wurttemburg. Jüd Süss abused clear lines of succession with usury and deceit. Today there are no lines of succession, governments represent nothing, peoples are no one.
The lines we have to cross or hold, they are ours to draw. It is why these works of culture, of insistence, are defiance of a different sort. You cannot waste your breath being angry at a world government that does what it is compelled to do. Save that energy to build something you can be angry at if molested.
That requires redirection and focus. If you read my work, or hear my words, take heed and good stock that none of this Clown World we have will ever end until we force it too. A man cannot revolt on protest alone, he needs something to defend, not a black hole where his soul should be.
If indeed we are to be a Race, than we must have a shared history and culture. The Greeks had valuable criteria for this. If I recall correctly it was Herodotus who gave us a basis, the people, to be a people, must share in common four things; blood, soil, king and god. A common blood, feeding a common ground, under a common law, beneath a common god. Another fanciful empire reduced it to One Empire, One People, One Ruler.
But alas alack, I suppose, time shall tell. What it tells I cannot say, but I pray for that return to saliency, legitimacy through pursuit of Wisdom, embrace of Tradition. Honour, too, is a dictate decided in common among the people. Shall we let that too run amuck amid the opinions of the hoi polloi, or shall we take that too and subject it to a lens of scrutiny? Nothing is sacred so long as we admit nothing is, the line awaits our hand to be drawn. Do as thou wilt, an it harm none of ours.
Until next time. Strength and Honour, Lads.

3 thoughts on “Lorecast (S2) Explained

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