Candles. Underrated. Much fire, big worth. Grug.
A paltry attempt at devotional poetry, trying to come more in line with the Anglo-Saxon spirit- reliant as we are on loanwords. In the old tongue, hight or highten was like the German heiße or Norse heiti, or in a way the Danish har. In (at least American) Asatru, heitar of the Gods can be understood as cognomen. This poem is about seeking the masques, cognomen of Oðinn, and finding one's own.
Braindump: variety pack! More brain for your buck! Topics covered: expert worship in America; Hönir, Mimir & Ragnarøk; MLK day and intraracial relations; esoteric Yankee doom parenting. Not covered: Top Ten Reasons Anglos and Germans need to own it, and the hermeneutics of corticolics in Architectposting.
I await your pattern development, Agent Rick.
Come in for the juicy Sif bits, stay for the juicy bits.
I'm click bait. Click me, bait me. Go on. What lurks within? A mishmash of etymology and antiphilosemitism. Or something. Kittens and rainbows. Nothing in any way critical of anything.
Title has it. Click me.
Örlög, space and fishing with Thor. Go on. Open me.
A quick, dirty and wholly UPG about Armanen Runes, and how I learned to step outside the Futhorc - briefly. And rants. Trigger warning. You have been warned.
A reflection inspired by the Solstice. Musings on Fae and Vættir, Seiðr and Sidhe, Odin and Jörð. How these funnel into workable living traditions. And why I think Earth is a highly underrated and much needed Goddess today.
My first attempt in a very long while at writing Asatru fiction. I wrote this as a tributary during the week of Winterfinding, or Mason. I have worked some rationale into the narrative, but I suspect some of my regular readers will see at once the converging influences I have used as inspiration. Feel free to question or comment if you're moved to. No spoilers, you'll have to read. Or not. Boats and dinghies.