A Call to Action My Elders and Siblings in Heathenry and Runework:
I have received the following instruction, following divination: set an othala stone on your ancestral harrow--or your shrine, if you do not keep a separate harrow. Poor a libation over the stone. And then *celebrate your ancestors!*. Read the books aloud the loved (or play audio books.). Play music they loved. Cook their favorite foods. Tell their stories. Celebrate the strength of the bloodline and the family line that brought you here. If you can give nothing but water, do so. If you can only carry the othala stone in your pocket to share your day with your ancestors, do so. We must take this stand and not allow these fascists to undermine one our ties to our beloved dead. For the Northern Traditions: Pray to Hela. Pray to Forseti. Pray to Thor. Pray to Freyja. Pray to the Young Lord, Sigyn's Son, who comforts the dead children. Pray to Odin as Runatyr. For other traditions: pray to the protector of the dead. Pray to the deity of justice. Pray for the impious to be corrected. We must not allow another of holy symbols to be so profaned and despoiled. The following is the divination I performed using the Graven Images Oracle: Envy: Our enemies are jealous of the true power of bloodline, ancestry, and descent, and will steal what they covet in others instead of doing the work. Reflection: Things are already in motion on the matter. We are called upon to meditate, to work with our Ancestors to undo or reduce the harm the enemy does. Plan before acting. Spirit: Heed the wisdom of the Disir. Petition them for guidance. Given them offerings. Sing their names. They are our wellspring of strength, unbroken to Embla Herself, the blessed cow Adumbla, and Ice. Though we endured the Great Sundering, we will not surrender what we still have. We will not allow corruption of our most holy artifacts, the homes of our ally spirits. Never. Again. Author's note: in case the article link doesn't work, search using the string: alt-right rebranding, or alt-right othala rune, alt-right rejections of swastika. The US Election is less than 24 hours old and I've already had my first knock-down drag-out.
You see, I publicly cursed every one who put that rapist in office. And some people took that to mean I cursed people of differing political opinions. Let me spell this out for the morally outrage white cis-males in the audience: I cursed the people who put a fascist-leaning rapist in office. I cursed a man who demeaned his own daughters, who belittles any woman who dares stand up to him. The Republican party, who has rested on its laurels since the election of Ronald Regan, failed not just every American who took pride in their party, who genuinely cherished the values that party was supposed to espouse, they amped up the mindset that anyone who did not toe that party line was un-American and a threat to the peace, the American way of life (as if there is only one), the financial and morale dominance of the Right(eous)--and they did nothing. Only a handful dared stir out of their safe, secure strongholds to do their jobs and speak for the American people. And those of you who voted third party, first, ograts on not knowing how that works. Second. You are not exempt. You are not absolved. You split the check and you will pay your share. We prize the Nine Noble Virtues, those of Courage, Discipline, Fidelity, Honor, Hospitality, Self-Reliance, Industriousness, Truth, Perserverance. While I am staunchly against holding people of different faiths to the values, restrictions, and obligations of another faith, I hold that the current crop of Republlicans are severely lacking in all save Perserverance--or perhaps it's just persistence, like that displayed by a spoilt child. The P-E displays none of those virtues, in any quantity whatsoever. Certainly not Truth, Honor, or (judging by his Twitter account) Discipline. The epitome of Gluttony, Sloth, and Lust now claims the Oval Office. Christians laugh at me when I say this. As if, because my fath does not spell out concrete sins, because we strive for Virtue and Right Action, we can’t recognize the Mortal Sins. Bah! I don’t believe in the End Times as taught...but we are in for a very, Very Rough Ride. As Heathens, we treasure the Nine Noble Virtues. Whatever our relationship with the Gods and other validt tie may be, the Virtues can be a much needed foothold, guideposts to being a better human. It isn't so much for leaving behind a name, a reputation that never dies, but being a good person is a praiseworthy goal in and of itself. At the very least, becoming strong in the Virtues is a way to thank the Ancestors. It is a way to show the Gods and wights what we make of the gifts they have given us.
It costs, though. Today, I had to give my honor muscles an intense workout. I had to make a stand, and I had to do among people who are just as damaged, just as ill, as I am. But I couldn't keep silent. I used as much compassion and empathy as I could, but I had to call out people for their racism and ignorance of actual military sacrifice, their willful overlooking of the dignity and suffering of others because they were "tired of hearing about it" and annoyed that their televised entertainment was momentarily used to promote mindfulness. And it hurts. I feel like I kicked a wounded animal. Not everyone with a wrong-headed opinion is malicious or intends harm I spoke up in the face of wrongdoing. It hurt. I prayed to Tyr for the best words and actions. I am still praying to be better able to manage this. I feel sorrow for the necessity, disappointment in the actions of those who I thought understood being marginalized, "profiled," and dismissed as lesser. It was quite a workout for the honor muscles. I don't think that it gets easier. i thank you Tyr, for Your example. I thank you for the challenge. "In all things, give thanks." Even the pain, my Lord of Temples, even this is a blessing. I praise the Guiding Star, the Leavings of the Wolf, may you ever be praised. Sometimes, my prayers are absolutely silent. I reach for Their presence and just hover there, like a bee near a flower. Sometimes, the world, with all its grief and pain, rampant stupidity, and short-sightedness, wears me down.
I get tired. The past feels heavy and human interaction scrapes on every raw nerve. It's not even validation or Their acknowledgement I crave. It is, at these times, enough to know that They are there and know we exist. I hail You, All-Father. I hail You, great Prince of Temples. I love You, Lady of the Celestial Rose Garden. I love You, Mistress of the Mansions of the Moon. Apologies for the quirky title, but it's what jumped to mind when I began reading the responses to Aya de Leon's post regarding white appropriation of Dia de Los Muertos. The comments shocked me: post after post of people telling this woman who wrote a stern, but fair post that she was the racist, that 'micro-aggressions' are really not important matters.
I'm guessing these commenters have never heard the phrase, "From little things, big things grow." What stood out to me in Ms. de Leon's original post was the following: "Do you really not know how to sit at the table? To say thank you? To be a gracious guest?' These are valid questions. She isn't saying white people should only celebrate Halloween or All Saints/All Souls (or Yom Kippur, for that matter), or that white people cannot participate in public Dia de los Muertos festivities. She asked if we knew how to behave. Think about it. If you're going to a grown-up dinner at someone's house, you bring a host gift, or offer to help clear away afterwards, or bring music or a movie or dessert. You are a guest. You do not drop into the first chair you see, complain about the menu, the decor, or finger the heirloom hand-woven lace tablecloth and say, "Oh, hey, I could make a damn sexy teddy and garter set from this!" and whip it off the table to take home. And what is with the people who kept giving variations of, 'I asked a Mexican/my Mexican friend/significant other/office buddy and they agreed you're being over-sensitive,'? Were her questions so uncomfortable that people needed to get some kind of Stamp of Authenticity so they felt less uncomfortable? Well... it sure looks like the answer is 'yes'. I've been in that hot-seat, I know how uncomfortable it is to realize, "Oh, wow... I have blithely been doing/saying racist/sexist/ableist things, and I just got called on it. Ouch!" It's painful to admit to doing that. It's unsettling, because I like to think of myself as a reasonably compassionate and aware person who isn't anything at all like those other asshats. Truthfully, I am often an asshat. I do not like knowing this, I do not like changing my behavior when the situation calls for it, I don't like having to weigh my words, my thoughts, my feelings. I also don't like being a person who hurts and steals from others. And others (or Others, if you prefer) are important. There are boundaries in place for good reason--not because we're all horrible people at heart who will gleefully indulge in pillaging and making off with whatever we can pry up. The boundaries are there because we all deserve our own spaces. The Gods and Holy Powers created a physical Universe that holds an enormous amount of overlap (or you might think of it as 'structures of interdependence'), but also holds an enormous range of differences. Consider how many different varities of insects and plants, forms of natural water. Let's not get started on the animals, rocks, gaseous mixtures... And this is on one planet, with a bog-standard yellow dwarf star, and a single moon. One. ONE. This basic observation leads me to conclude that the Gods and Holy Powers like variety. They like to make different things in different places, and to not respect that is to disrespect the Gods and Holy Powers. That doesn't mean we have to stay in narrow, starkly defined spaces or never 'have nice things'. But we need to be good guests. We need to show good manners. We need to get over our need to own everything we see with magpie eyes. We can share. (No, really, we can. I know it sounds Pollyanna, but really, we can.) Because we are part of the differences that delight the Holy. We are as much chaos as we are order. And yeah, we are more than likely going to continue to be asshats to each other. We are going to make screw-ups. Because, again, based on observation... But this is why we also praise patience, compassion, and empathy. So, when going into another's space, be hospitable. Be well-mannered. And don't forget to look around your own space. We have cool stuff, too.
Love Song for Odin
I am she who curled twisted and lamed in the water-dark womb. ('Not all sick men are utterly wretched.') Spilled breathless and blue into a tainted world. ('But naked, I was a nobody.') Allfather, hard-won came the holy gift from Your hand. ('Breath gave Othinn') I am Your dream-reaver, The living lament of the war-riven mother. ('Woden, Id est Furor!') I carry the mourning of Mothers. Grimnir, stricken fathers languish in Your shadow. ('Hopes are often liars.') O, Veratyr! Endless sun-blighted days where I merely exist, I pray my mere being serves You. ('It is always better to be alive.') Ah, Atridi, never will You accept my surrender! You storm my sagging defenses. I must rise or perish. ('The best man is marred by faults, The worst is not without worth.') O, Oski, I serve as Your wish-maiden, Set by Wyrd and will in this Middle-Gard. ('Enjoy the good you are given.') Unnr, Unnr, full-trui with deep-seeing gaze, In joy and pain, You continue to remake me. ('The mind alone knows what is near the heart.') --Selena A. Durante NJ, 2015 Quotes taken from multiple public domain translations of: Havamal, Runatal, Volospo, Adam of Brenan) This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License. Rev. Krasskova has written another fierce excresence regarding the actions of the Despoilers. As ever, it's potent stuff.
When I first read of the Despoilers' crimes, it wasn't rage I felt--at least, not my rage. A howl rose up from my ancestral court, the generations of souls who endured the Great Sundering, forced to bear witness, wrested away from their holy places, their histories re-written, their languages ground into mere handfuls of words, meaningless sounds. They grieve at this horrid recreation of murder, genocide, and forced eradication, this display of mortal hubris that trumpets that IT alone can determine what is holy, what is treasured, what is of value. They grieve, half-mad from pain, and all the light and sweet scents I can offer do little to sooth them. How DARE these creatures disrupt the peace of the Dead? How dare they raise their impious hands to their foremothers and forefather? There will be ritual done here to comfort the grieving, there will be denunciation with all the power I can muster. Though we lack the words, the vocabulary to express the magnitude of this crime, which is not limited to a geographical place or even measurable time, there are still words. Bards were often feared for their curses. Master Taliesin, show me the way |
AuthorSelena Durante is an Odinswoman and polytheistic mystic living too far from the mountains she loves. She spends much of her time studying and writing, exploring the unusual spiritual territory she finds herself in. While she likes to perceive herself as independent, she's really a minion of a Bombay cat. Archives
November 2015
Categories
All
|