…ever green above Urðr’s Well

“I don’t believe anyone believes in a one-eyed man who is riding about on a horse with eight feet. We see the stories as poetic metaphors and a manifestation of the forces of nature and human psychology.” — Hilmar Orn Hilmarsson, high priest of Asatruarfelagio

Maybe so, but more’s the pity.

I consider myself a spiritual man. Deeply so, actually. I also see myself as being religious, though the more grey hairs I sprout the less I become. It’s not that I have little faith in the gods, but little faith in men.

Winter is giving way to spring, as Skaði and Ullr make way for Idunn and her kind. It is at these transitions that I feel closest to the gods of old, when one season relinquishes its reign to another. It won’t be long before thunder and lightning rule the sky and the giants will cower before Odinsson’s fury.

hornsBut the people around me bemoan the winter from its first kiss, never realizing that without it we can have no spring, nor the summer they crave so much. Of course, it is the heat of summer I cower before, though less now than in previous years. I see it all now, more clearly. A season for all things. There must be summer for autumn to come.

Change begets change, and we can be the better for it, so long as what has come before is not forgotten and what is good is honoured.

We are all part of the wheel and it is a small mind that would deny the truth of it.

“Little the sand if little the seas, little are minds of men, for ne’er in the world were all equally wise, ’tis shared by the fools and the sage.” — Hávamál (53)

Soon, there will be spring fires lit and the gods awakened from their winter slumber shall smile upon us. And in the twisting branches, where new life is born in green, we shall see the binding runes if we but look, and we shall have our answers if we care to give them weight.

But if we choose not to see, it does not matter, for our wyrd is our wyrd, and the twining women, these tenders of Yggdrasil — Urðr, Verðandi and Skuld — know the truth of it even if we do not.

“All will prove true that thou askest of runes… those that are come from the gods, which the high Powers wrought, and which Odin painted: then silence is surely best.” — Hávamál (79)

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