I really feel like Paganism is a Eurocentric thing. Non-european indigenous religions seem to prefer not to be called “pagan,” a pejorative word that has been used against them for centuries. At the heart of the word Paganism are references to European indigeny, and nowhere else do you find a people using the term “pagan” to refer to its own ‘backwards’ people. If you were to draw a diagram of Pagan traditions, organizations, people and movements on which you placed these, prioritizing them by research and scholarship so that groups who value these things fall toward the center; you’d see that those who are getting closest to the moments before Christianity rolled in are the reconstructionists. They are those who perform the research that gets appropriated by other groups replacing their poorly constructed notions, such as Wiccan karma or others. But from this perspective, at the heart of the Neopagan world are the Reconstructionist faiths, as unpopular as they are, because they are closest to our animist, pagan ancestors.
I am not currently sure if the Asatru Folk Assembly (AFA) identifies with the term “reconstructionist Pagan,” but they are clearly using reconstructionist methods. So, when groups like the AFA says what they said in their recent post, combining their Pagan methodology with racist and purist ideals, who inimical to them is the most responsible for speaking out against it? Who is responsible for bringing it up and expressing disapproval? While you might think it everyone’s responsibility, and while that is absolutely true, I think that the leadership and influencers of reconstructionist groups should be the key responders to stuff like this.
For those Pagans that haven’t practiced a mystery tradition or mysticism which teaches the inner workings of the psyche and soul, however, it’s important to realize that the ego and consciousness that we are aware of is but a flower in field of a greater mental ecosystem. Research shows that brain activity is a symphony of collaboration between twelve epicenters in the brain. We aren’t yet close to understanding how the mind works, but through devotional practices and dedication to animism and polytheism, we begin to pull back the veil of the mind where we can catch glimpses of this world. This is precisely why I know in my bones that there aren’t any wise men and women of the gods in these racist, transphobic organizations. It’s as if their external ideology reveals no inner holiness, which should be plain to the intuitive eye.
Inside our minds are unchallenged notions, assumptions, and behavioral programming which can take on a mind of its own. So as an act of mental discipline, we visit these things, question them, and remove that which is within us but lacks merit. This is called shadow work. Notions like white pride, white culture, and a white race are society’s current lies which work their way into our shadows and psyches. Before the new notion of whiteness was widely used and accepted, we were German, Irish, Polish, etc. When folks operate and behave on whiteness, especially when doing so unconsciously, they empower and enable racist programing and thinking to grow and dominate their understanding. This is true even if they have black children, black friends, or persons of color esteemed in their lives.
So, I encourage all Eurocentric reconstructionist organizational leaders and influencers to make the statements which are necessary to prevent our communities from being overrun and rife with this bigoted filth. We accept people of color, we accept people as they are, we accept those adopted brethren, and especially those who may have more of our ancestors genes than we do, but we just can’t see it. We know in our hearts that this world is a rainbow, a spectrum, a multitude of things, and to treat it as binary is to mistreat it. To refrain from speaking out against racism and transphobia is a mistreatment and failing to maintain the Cosmic Order which our public sacrifices uphold.
As reconstructionists we bring the best aspect forward from our pre-Christian ancestors’ faith, we do not throw out the baby with the bathwater when it comes to progress and transformation. Some of what’s old is stale and not worthy of our practice. Let those who eat old spiritual sustenance which is rotten suffer from lack of nourishment. Let their motivations and courages be drained from them so that their endeavors fail. So be it.
Labels are always a fun game to play in Paganism, Polytheism, Heathenry, what-have-you. On the one hand they can be helpful in defining how we see ourselves and what we believe and do – on the other they are only ever a general description and as often as not they divide us instead of bringing us together. I have many labels for myself because my beliefs are complex and layered, and the terms I use may describe what I do, like Druid or Bantuaithech, as much as what I believe, like animist and polytheist. I often tailor what label I use based on who I’m talking to, to some degree: when talking to CRs I use terms like Irish Reconstructionist Polytheist; when talking to neopagans I say witch or Druid; when talking to Heathens I say, well, Heathen usually or seidhrkona. No one label truly describes exactly what I believe or do in its full context so I have no issue having many labels and adding or shedding descriptors when needed. Life evolves and changes and so do I.
Within the context of Heathenry I have toyed for a couple years now with the label of “Álfatrú” for myself as a more precise descriptor of my belief system but I was always a bit hesitant for several reasons. Firstly in English the term is reminiscent of a certain sitcom from the 80’s and that association was strong for me. Secondly, when I first started thinking of this I was fairly new to Heathenry and I wasn’t sure if it was an appropriate term in contrast to Ásatrú or if it even read properly, not having any Icelandic at that point.¹ And thirdly, I must confess that when I tried to Google the term (Google-fu for the win) the few hits I got to English language sites came back to things that were rather perplexing to me and very contrary to my own approach.
I also wanted to avoid any confusion or implication that I was approaching all of the Hidden Folk as deities. Certainly there is overlap, and some of the alfar are counted among the Gods, just as many (most) of the Tuatha De Danann are also the aos sidhe, but not all of the aos sidhe are Gods and not all of the alfar or huldufolk are deities either. Its rather its own system in itself and needs to be understood that way, as a complex system instead of looked at as a simple ‘all this’ or ‘all that’. What makes something a God is a question I contemplate often for example here and here and understanding where I’m coming from on this issue and how the huldufolk and aos sidhe fit into things is important. Whether Gods or not-Gods you respect them and the influence they can and do have on your life. You offer to them to create reciprocity, you seek to live in balance with them, you don’t harm or disrespect their places, and – if you practice the sort of witchcraft I do – you seek to learn from them and ally with (some) of them. So I also had a concern about using a term that might read or imply an elevation of the alfar, in general, to deities or imply that I was replacing the Gods with the huldufolk, along the lines of people who use Vanatru to indicate that they primarily worship the Vanic Gods. Although the Hidden Folk are my main focus, my house spirits and landvaettir are not my Gods and I was genuinely concerned about using a term that might accidentally convey this meaning. The actual system itself is more nuanced than most simple terms easily convey. There are alfar who are Gods, and there are alfar who who are not-Gods, and I wasn’t sure if alfatru as a term would work with this understanding or not.
Reading more about the Icelandic perspective on it, just like gaining a better understanding of the Irish, has I think allowed me to understand what the real meaning of álfatrú is in context. Álfatru simply means ‘belief or faith in elves’. Similarly álfatrúar means believer in elves, and expanding that out álfatrúarfólk means people who believe in elves or more literally ‘elves religious people’. Just like many people of all religious beliefs follow the Fairy Faith, many people are Álfatrúarfólk while following different religions. And just like ‘Fairy Faith’ means belief that the fairy folk exist and have power, so it seems does álfatrú and it includes those layers and nuances of meaning, that inclusion of degrees of power and influences from Gods to minor spirits that I was looking for and already believed in. It is not a belief in and of itself that excludes other things but rather something that describes a specific facet or focus of belief and attendant folk practices. Of all the terms beyond ‘Fairy Faith’ this is the most accurate to what I believe and do, although in my case it is my main focus and just as with my Fairy Witchcraft, I do add religious overtones to it. Of course there are Gods I acknowledge as well, but it is the Hidden Folk, the Good People, who are my main focus.
Álfaborg, the castle of the fairies near Borgarfjörður, image by Schorle, licensed under Creative Commons
Belief in and respect of the alfar – ‘álfatrú’ – is a significant thing in Iceland, although one that’s often not well understood by Americans I think. The majority of Icelanders admit to believing in the likely existence of elves, but this belief is the same as most Americans belief in ghosts, that is people won’t rule out the possibility or are open to the idea, rather than firmly believing it. Although some people do believe in them more strongly and more profoundly, putting their faith in the alfar as it were, and some are able to see and interact with them. As in Ireland there is a belief associating the alfar (aka elves) with landmarks including trees and boulders which cannot be interfered with or bad luck and mishaps will ensue. There have been several modern incidents which demonstrate this, including the protesting of road construction that threatened an ‘elf church’ and required a court case and compromise to be reached with the alfar, issues with well drilling, and concerns about the alfar being upset by the idea of a new airport. Often special consultants are brought in who are known to be able to see and speak with the alfar. As with the Irish Fairy Faith, the Icelandic belief in the alfar is not a clear cut or definitive thing but fluid and different from person to person, ranging from superstition to firm belief, from uncertain skepticism to certain faith. It encompasses a variety of expressions and practices as well, from polite respect of places to full offerings and worship.
So, basically, this isn’t something that anyone needs to create or invent as a ‘thing’. It’s not a cleverly made up word, or newly invented term. It’s already a thing and its a term in use in the living culture. It means what Ásatrú means, more or less, but focused on the alfar although it so far lacks any layered overtones of added meaning creating by politics and religious denominations. It is simply a word in a different language for the belief in the Hidden Folk and like Fairy Faith it says as little or as much as we choose to see in it.
I’ve been flirting with the idea of alfatru as a better label for my spirituality than Heathen and certainly than Asatru for a while (at least five years or so) but I was always held back by my own misunderstanding of the term. Realizing what it actually meant – and that it was a real word and not some Americanized thing created out of the same misunderstandings I had been worried about, was a bit of an epiphany for me. Heathen is still a good general term of course, but it lacks the specific; Asatru is one I stopped using years ago precisely because the Aesir are not my main focus and it felt disingenuous to call myself that when most of my beliefs and practices center on the landvaettir and huldufolk (by various names and cultural understandings). Yes it’s an Icelandic term, and my actual beliefs are a mix of Irish, German, Icelandic, general Celtic, and American but for all that Álfatrú is still the single best word to describe my spirituality within a Heathen context.
Do I believe in the alfar? Yes, yes I do. And most of my spirituality centers on my beliefs in the huldufolk (and/or aos sidhe) and the practices associated with those beliefs. So I can call it the Fairy Faith, or creideamh sidhe, in one context, or I can call it Álfatrú in another, but at its core its the same concept and the same general practices just slightly different cultural contexts. So until I find a better word Álfatrú seems to be the most fitting to describe my spirituality from that perspective, something that describes my beliefs and fits in nicely with my wider belief system. In an Irish-American context I use the term Fairy Faith because it conveys precisely a lot of what I believe from that perspective. And both work perfectly within the context of the witchcraft I practice.
I’m still far from fluent by the way, but I’m working on it. (back)
It shouldn’t surprise me; nobody gets out of here alive, as they say. But death isn’t something I expect, not when meeting and working with people my own age. I was recently on a multi-week teaching tour through Arkansas, then through Texas including Houston, Victoria, San Antonio, and Fort Hood, then on up to Kansas to Wichita and Topeka, then Kansas City Missouri, Memphis, Tennessee, then St. Louis Missouri, and then finally home. I woke up in St. Louis at my host’s house only to learn that Tisha Gill, a participant in my workshop and ritual in Topeka, had died in an apartment fire. Her mother also died.
Tisha Gill / Used with permission
Later, it was discovered that the apartment fire was set intentionally by one of the other tenants of a different apartment, making Tisha and her mother’s death a homicide.
Just about a year ago I was also on tour, and during the middle of my tour, one of my hosts, David Quinn, died of complications from a chronic illness. I had been scheduled to lead a chanting and drumming circle for his group in Des Moines, and instead I ended up facilitating a memorial ritual.
David was just a bit younger than me. Tisha just a bit older.
What is the most heartbreaking for me about both of their deaths is that these were people with dreams. David was out there serving the Pagan community. As I wrote a year ago when he died,
During my time there in the labyrinth, in this little grove of trees, I felt David’s work there in the stones beneath my feet, in every brick lovingly laid into arcs set into the ground. I’ve built outdoor shrines and I know the backbreaking work that it takes. I never met this man, but I know the love, the fuel, the drive. I felt it in every brick, every single one.
David’s death is a loss for our community, and especially for his local community. He had a lot of work before him, a lot of things he had planned to do in order to lay strong foundations for the Sacred Bridges CUUPs group to serve the Pagans in Des Moines.
Tisha spoke about all sorts of dreams and plans. She was finishing a degree in chemistry. She was also a musician. She had just been to her first Pagan festival, though she’d been Pagan for a while, and she was looking forward to getting more involved. When she mentioned that she played violin and sometimes cello I told her, “Next time I come through town, you’ll have to bring along your violin. We can jam together during the chanting.” We talked a bit about music in ritual.
In Topeka I taught a workshop, “Finding Your Personal Magic,” at the home of my host Jeannie. It’s part workshop, part ritual. We talk at first about what magic is, and then what our own magic is, with a focus on our goals and dreams and plans. I then lead a discussion around how we often spill our energy out in ways that dilute our magic. We have “holes in our cup,” so to speak. Wounds in the ego. And we also slosh water out of our cup–we have poor boundaries. After the workshop portion, we transition into ritual space. Some folks took a bathroom break while others helped me decorate Jeannie’s living room with votive candles.
It’s a small group for the types of rituals I do, there were maybe 15 or so people there, so some of the ecstatic ritual techniques I employ, and some of the trance techniques, are difficult to sustain. Plus, I have to get the ritual done in time so people can get home. I like having about an hour and a half to do a ritual, because it takes about that much time for a group to get comfortable and sink into the groove of the ecstatic trance work. In this case, I had to collapse that into about a half hour ritual.
But it worked. The group was (as they often are) hesitant about singing, but I offer up really easy chants and toning that are fairly accessible even for folks that think they can’t sing. At the end we were all gathered around the flickering firelight in the center, and I remember Tisha singing her heart out.
In the ritual, we wrote down our wishes and dreams onto pieces of paper. I don’t often do this particular ritual technique, but it seemed right to do that night. We didn’t burn them in the house because that would have caused too much smoke. Instead, I promised to burn them after. (And despite what John Halstead wrote in his recent article on bad Pagan rituals, this technique actually can be quite potent when well facilitated.)
When we completed the ritual, many people had to head home pretty quickly after that since it was late. By the time we went out back with my cauldron to burn the wishes and release them to the sky, it was just five of us, including Tisha. Jeannie’s husband took a few minutes of video of us as we burned the wishes.
I wish I had something profound to say. All I’ve got is what I wrote last year. And what I wrote when my dad died. Don’t wait. Do not wait, don’t wait to live your life, don’t wait for it to be safe, don’t wait for approval, don’t wait til everything’s perfectly lined up to go do that thing you always dreamed of. Don’t wait to follow the call. Don’t wait.
I’ll leave you with this chant. I had the pleasure of facilitating a weekend ritual intensive with a group of women, the RCGI of San Antonio, and because they are skilled at singing and chanting, we were able to experiment with a chant that I adapted from the spiritual song “Oh Death,” and a line from the chant “My Body Is A Living Temple of Love.” We recorded our singing experiment, and for me it’s the best way I can articulate my feelings. I suppose it’s why I keep going back to music in my own personal practice, and in the group rituals I lead. It does more than I could ever try to capture in words.
A mixture of sorrow for those who have passed…a bit of fear that I, too, might die before my work is finished…and yet, a sense of hope that there is something out there that welcomes us home when we pass.
The “All Father” is a figure found in many Pantheons. From Zeus to Odin, from Ra to Yahweh, father gods play an important role in mythology. These gods share similar attributes. They are usually an elder member of the gods, if not the oldest of them all. Often, these gods can give or take life, control the weather, provide supreme wisdom, or perform miracles.
The Irish Dagda, the father god of the Tuatha Dé Danaan, is no exception. Known for his many abilities, the Dagda is aptly named Eochaid Ollathair, meaning “Great Father” or “All Father.” Some of his most famous legends are part of the Mythological Cycle, one of four major periods of Irish mythology. In Cath Maige Tuired , or “The Battle of Maigh Tuiredh,” we are told he was bestowed with the name the Dagda, meaning “the Good God.” This name is a testament to his vast skill-set which revolves around various types of creation and destruction.
The Dagda is considered to be extremely powerful. He carries an enormous club that could give life with one end and take it with the other. He owns a harp, Uaithne, that could control the emotions and behavior of men by playing a song of sorrow, one of laughter, or one of joy.
Abundance, agriculture, and fertility are also associated with him. The Dagda has a pair of ever-laden fruit trees and his harp can control the seasons. His cauldron, known as the Undry or the Cauldron of Plenty, can provide infinite food and drink. The cauldron also serves as a tool to provide rebirth and regeneration.
The Dagda shares many traits with the common man and woman, making him extremely repeatable. These shared similarities make him an excellent elder god and keep him relevant in modern society.
Through myth and meditation, there is much to learn from him. Some of the lessons I have learned include:
Acceptance of the Physical
Modern society has a tendency to encourage us to contemplate our bodies in extremes. We are simultaneously instructed to be critical of our physical selves and also to ignore our physicality in pursuit of inner beauty. We are constantly receiving mixed messages. Are we to be accepting of ourselves or be constantly trying to transform?
Lately, it seems society demands perfection on everything from our physical looks to our sexual histories. Recently, at least two Olympic athletes were publicly body shamed. Our children are committing suicide as a result of bullying and millions of people suffer from eating disorders.
Some of us face judgement based on our sexual activity or preferences. Half the time we are told to accept ourselves and the other half we are being shunned by our communities. For many of us, these extreme messages about food and sex have resulted in a disconnect from our true physical selves.
The Dagda acknowledges that physical sensations-taste, sound, sex-are a gift. He does not place the physical beneath the mental or spiritual levels. He understands that physical desires are a normal and natural part of life. He does not feel guilty taking care of his requirements and he unashamedly satisfies his urges. In doing so, the Dagda reminds me to celebrate my physical self and take care of my physical needs.
Now, I’m not advocating acting in the extremes. The Dagda had quite an appetite for both food and sex. He found himself in many predicaments when he overindulged. These myths teach that it is best to stay within the lines of moderation.
The Dagda’s most known symbol is the Cauldron of Plenty, one of the four great treasures of Ireland. This cauldron supplied unending sustenance to any company.
Throughout history, hospitality has been an important part of Irish life. There were even rules that governed how host and guest should interact. A host must provide hospitality and a guest must not refuse it. It would be extremely offensive if either party failed to do their part.
In many tales, the Dagda finds himself bound by the laws of hospitality and he never fails to oblige. The Dagda reminds me to be generous, act selflessly, and honor my commitments.
Don’t Take Myself Too Seriously
Some myths describe the Dagda as looking quite comical, often after he has acted in excess. He is depicted as being of unusual size, walking in an oafish manner, and wearing a shirt that barely covers his bottom.
However, he has a sense of humor in his interactions with others. In one famous tale, the Fomorians–rivals of the Tuatha Dé Danaan–try to trick the Dagda. They make him a mammoth pot of porridge made with grotesque ingredients like live goats. Bound by the laws of hospitality, the Dagda must eat it or risk offending them. He slurps down the entire bowl of porridge with a gigantic spoon described as big enough for a man and woman to lie inside. Once finished, the Dagda finds his belly to be as large as a whale’s. This shames him not one bit and he promptly attempts to sleep with the daughter of his enemy.
The humorous depiction of the Dagda makes him stand out among other gods in mythology. Despite occasionally appearing oafish or crude, the Dagda has prowess, power, and wits.. Though the Dagda is a mighty figure his imperfections make him very relatable to humans.
For these reasons, the Dagda reminds me to not take myself too seriously. A moment of embarrassment will have zero impact on my capabilities. Life should be celebrated and that is hard to do when you can’t laugh at yourself.
The Dagda is seen in many myths negotiating with other parties. Using his intellect, the Dagda artfully maneuvers situations into his favor. He exudes confidence. Though he doesn’t always come out on top, he seems to always get back up.
His strength and resilience may be why the Dagda is associated with oak trees, a sacred tree to the Druids. The Oak is associated with endurance. The Dagda reminds me to be clever in my interactions and learn from mistakes. Should I fail, I’ll be wiser the second time around.
Bottom line: I can always reach out to the Dagda if I need a boost of confidence, a reminder to love my body, or a little sense of humor.
How do you relate to him or other father gods? What significance do father guides play in your practice? Leave a comment to share your insight.
It was a beautiful day. The most gorgeous of days in one of my favorite places. In fact, it is my most favorite place: a redwood forest. The sun is shining and there is a gentle breeze. Birds are singing, flowers are blooming and I feel completely at home. I am dreaming, yet somehow aware of that fact. And in my dream, I am also picking up dog poop off the lawn with a trowel and scooping it into a garden bucket.
This is, of course, where I wake up.
It is called lucid dreaming when you know that your experience is happening in a dream state. For me, these foreshadow an unexpected and not too distant personal future. The dream scene is completely unfamiliar, and different enough from my situation at the time to fit right into Dreamland. Yet, I wake up feeling differently about this dream experience, and life in general. “Things change,” the Universe seems to say.
Good to know.
Except for one real life situation that likely saved my life, these small snippets of my future foreshadowed in dreams are as close as I have previously come to being clairvoyant.
Queen of Pentacles / Raider-Waite Tarot / Image used with permission of U.S. Games Systems, Inc., Stamford, CT 06902. c. 1971 by U.S. Games Systems, Inc.
Yet, despite this, or perhaps because of it, I am fascinated by the subject. It is reportedly possible to learn the art, and so I study about scrying tools and magick mirrors, buy books, began a collection of mirrors, and bought a crystal ball. Figured, all I have to do is connect to the part of me that can do this without notice, learn to control the timing of the information, and to recognize what I’m looking at – well, putting all that together would be quite a feat.
Odd little duck that I am, there really isn’t a lot of magickal work on the subject of clairvoyance. There are stories about what people saw, but not so much how they saw it. And, the instruction that is available reads like Yoda’s instruction to young Luke mixed with a Nike advert: there is no try; just relax and do it.
However, there is scientific interest in the subject. How credible may be debated, but it is well known that military intelligence investigated the subject of remote viewing. I can neither confirm nor deny the existence of any current programs, (honestly have no idea) and yes, the film “Men Who Stare at Goats” was based on real events. So, maybe I’m not so alone here.
But the thought of each learning method, as I explored them, left me bored and wandering off to attend to something “important.” The perceived expense and bother of making a mirror of my own left me fuddled. The uncertainty and patience that might be required in putting it to use left me most often asleep—and all the while I wondered about my own strange relationship with the idea.
Decades passed.
I made other magickal tools, and gave up on scrying as an object of desire.
Until I went to Starwood 2016. The week-long event was wonderful, and my workshops were well received. People were fantastic and absolutely everything went perfectly, except I suffered a tiny personal disappointment and nourishing my little pity party drove me to a used book stall for further self-indulgence.
This ended up being a good thing because I picked up a couple of books by an author I really respect, for reference and entertainment. One of these books, Scottish Witchcraft, the magick and mystery of the Picts, by Raymond Buckland really caught my attention and despite the wonderful distractions of working and meeting new people in new places, I managed somehow to finish the book before I got off the plane home.
My family comes from the islands of and surrounding England. I never thought of myself as Norman, or Saxon, Angle, Jute, or even Celt—but when it came to the history of the Picts, the first ones, I have always thought myself to be a part of this people. Buckland’s book resonated with my bones and genetic memory and jumped off the shelf to me. I am torn between enshrining my copy or scribbling notes in the margins as I use it.
The book describes the making and consecration of the magickal tools used in this craft. The first two: the Dirk, and Staff, are almost exactly as I described the making of my own in the first part of this story. I was thrilled with his description and the utility of the Dirk and Staff both seemed apparent. My own compelling experience in their creation only confirmed this to me.
All things magickal being in threes, he then described the third magickal tool a scrying glass called the Keek-Stane. He gave clear (but not too detailed) instruction on how to make one and explained how to find the components, too. Perhaps it was just “right project at the right time” but I couldn’t wait to get home and make one of these for myself.
At last, a scrying glass to call my own… or soon it would be anyway… my precious…(just kidding). Is anything that easy?
Greetings, and welcome back to Wyrd Words. Keeping the Thor in Thursdays, here on Agora!
There’s an interesting debate that I’ve seen drifting about the edges of the Heathen community for years, and (interestingly) it’s one of the only topics that I’ve ever seen debated more often in person than in the general Heathen “Blog’o’sphere”. Did the ancient Heathens have some concept of a “spirit guide” or “totem animal?” I’ve met plenty of Heathens who are perfectly happy to tell you all about their spirit animal, and I’ve also seen plenty who seem offended by the notion; claiming that such an idea is a holdover from Wicca rather than a “proper” Heathen practice. So what does the Lore have to say about it?
Yes and No…
Actually the Lore totally supports the idea, just not in the way that most people probably think of them. When most Americans hear something like “Totem Animal” they tend to envision an oversimplified and generalized Native American concept of a spiritual guide; usually with some kind of inherent lesson or values based on species. (An idea that usually bears very little resemblance to any actual indigenous American practices.)
The Lore is filled with references to beings called fylgjur. Usually seen in dreams or visions, fylgjur usually foreshadow the arrival of important people or events. Never an image to be conjured lightly, the arrival of a fylgja is always an indication of fate in the making. In “Brennu-Njáls Saga” Þórður had a vision of a dead goat, covered in its own gore. Njal told him there was no goat there at all; that Þórður must have seen the death of his own fylgja (considered an ill omen), and was thus fated to die. Then, in “Hávarðar Saga”, Atli has a dream about a pack of seventeen wolves descending upon him, being lead by a fox. This dream foretold the arrival of an army, lead by a cunning sorcerer. Likewise in “Þorsteins Saga” we see an enemy leader and his two sorcerous companions appear in a dream as a great bear accompanied once again by two foxes.
Sometimes these fylgja were even portrayed in a much more tangible way, such as in the climactic battle at the end of “Hrólfs Saga Kraka”. In that tale, Bödvar Bjarki was said to have sat motionless back in his quarters, controlling a great bear that defended the king and slaughtered enemy soldiers. Or in “Óláfs Saga Tryggvasonar”, when young Þorsteinn ran into the hall and seemed to trip over nothing at all. Geitir, who was gifted with ‘the sight’, told him that his fylgja (a white bear cub) had trundled out in front of him and he had tripped over it. The idea of animal spirits representing one’s character are both plentiful and prevalent throughout the Sagas and beyond. Even Odin’s ravens, Huginn and Muninn, could potentially be seen as the Allfather’s fylgjur.
So What Exactly IS a Fylgja?
Unlike the common conceptualization of a spirit guide or a totem animal, a fylgja isn’t an independent spiritual entity so much as a reflection of the person it’s attached to. As opposed to the usual idea of a spirit guide, one isn’t chosen by their fylgja; rather, one IS their fylgja. The shape that the fylgja takes isn’t really an indication of some life lesson to be learned, as it is a glimpse into the innate character of the person whom it represents. In Atli’s dream, the cunning fox was a sorcerer. Bödvar the Berserker’s fylgja was a mighty bear. Thieves and outlaws might be represented by wolves, while someone who was strong but tame by nature might be represented by a bull.
The Norse and Germanic cultures didn’t have a unified concept of a ‘soul’, instead each individual was a complex collage of various elements. The fylgja, in many ways, is our deepest self. Stripped of our complex thoughts and emotions, devoid of our agendas and motives, the fylgja is the base nature around which our more nuanced concept of self is built.
If you’re interesting in learning more about Fylgjur, check out:
“The Road to Hel” by Hilda Roderick Ellis
“Dreams in Icelandic Tradition” by Gabriel Turville-Petre
Well, it has certainly been a turbulent few months since my last post. The world of Heathenry is, once again, tearing itself apart. Or at least it is in the Americas. A lot of groups have been coming out to stand for or against the AFA’s recent proclamation, and the groups I’m involved in are no different. But I’m not going to talk about that today. Lots of other people more senior and recognized in the community are already doing so. So instead, I’m going to talk about something else in the Heathen world. Sort of.
Another post recently talked about how no matter what in Heathenry, you’re doing it wrong. Whether it’s how you practice, who you are, or where you are. And she was absolutely right. Heathen practice is wide and varied in its “conventional” forms, never mind in the less common forms. In many ways, we’re treading the same terrain that our ancestors did, feeling our way along and trying to figure out what works for us as individuals and us as groups. It’s a natural evolution for any religious practice, but it’s not without its struggles and pitfalls.
One of the greatest struggles we’re encountering now is the organized practice versus independent practice ideological battle. Now, to be clear here, I’m not talking about group versus solitary practice, which is a separate but related debate. What I’m talking about here is the local independent Kindred (I’ll be using that term for Heathen based worship groups) with no connections to larger organizations and those Kindreds who are. This is a greater argument than many give it credit for, particularly in Canada. The reason it’s a bigger deal here than in say, the USA, is because of how religions are recognized up here. It is much, much more difficult to gain official recognition from provincial authorities, and even harder at the federal level. To put it in perspective, only Wicca has succeeded in convincing a number of provincial and federal agencies that it is a religion.
So, where does that leave the argument in Canada? We live today in a society that is largely no longer accustomed to religious practice under the auspices of a larger organization. Church attendance has been dropping steadily for decades now, and even the venerable Church of England has come to recognize that it’s not attracting the numbers it needs to survive in the fashion they have become accustomed to. Combined with a lack of knowledge about how religions work in an official capacity, this means that a lot of new entrants don’t understand why there’s a fight at all. After all, isn’t religion a personal thing? Isn’t that’s what’s most important?
Well, to me, it is and it isn’t. On one hand, yes, your personal spirituality is one of the keys to your well-being and sense of self. On the flip side though, that only works well until you need or want official services that are recognized by the government as legitimate. Or until someone needs last rites. I’ve run into many Heathens who have been genuinely surprised that the local Goði can’t officiate over a marriage. Or on the military side that their only options are “PAG”, “WIC”, or “OREL” on their ID discs. To me, this lack of recognition is what sways me towards the former in the argument.
In Canada, there is nothing to stop you and your friends and like-minded Heathens from forming your own Kindred and carrying out rituals to your heart’s content. But you can hold a blót every other week and never see it translate into official recognition. At this point though, many ask “Why do we need to be official? Why can’t we just carry on like we have?” To be fair, this is a free(ish) country, and nothing can stop you from doing just that. Many do, and take that mantra to heart as well. After all, even in Heathen practice, there’s still a streak of the anti-authoritarian Pagan counter-culture in the Heathen world, and it can especially pronounced in new Heathens who have come over from other Pagan paths.
Now, I’ll be honest, I was the same way when I was younger. I figured that religion was religion was religion, and that that was enough. But a few ramp ceremonies later, I started thinking about what would happen if that were me taking that flight home. Who would do my last rites and say words over my grave to seal me in the ground? Who would comfort my family? What if I got badly injured and had to be invalided out of service? Would the military and Veterans Affairs recognize my Goði as far as taking care of my spiritual and mental wellbeing during and after my recovery? All of a sudden, lack of recognition by my province and from my federal government for my faith became a very real problem. I made it home on one piece, but the idea that I would have been swinging in the spiritual breeze stuck with me.
Which brings me to my argument, which was prescient, I guess, in light of the national level organization issues happening the Americas now. Recognition and organization are going to be an inevitable and inexorable set of events. As is some degree of orthodoxy or orthopraxy. I’m not saying that because I’m a stick in the mud who loves uniformity and conformity. I’m saying that because that’s how religions develop. Look at any faith that has withstood the ages in the intensity of urbanized life and high social pressures, and they all walked this path. Now, before panic sets in, it doesn’t mean we’re going to end up a monolithic faith. Not by a long shot; there are lots of outcomes that allow for various sects/denominations/branches etc…, and it’s all perfectly healthy. But recognition is the key. And recognition means that, in Canada, we have to buckle a bit in our pride and zeal to come together under larger banners to gain the voice we need to be heard.
So, how does that pertain to Canada? Well, Canada has an explosively growing Pagan (and by extension, Heathen) population. Wiccans have had reasonable although not universal levels of recognition for years, which has been a huge leg up to them. This has been accomplished by the formation of provincial and national level organizations. As far as I know, the Heathen Freehold Society of BC is the only Heathen organization to achieve any level of official recognition by any government agency though. Just one group. Let that sink in for a moment. The most fractious, most solitary friendly, most anti-establishment Pagan faith out there has achieved what in theory is one of the most community minded, group oriented, limited hierarchy friendly faiths has not been able to do in Canada. And the result is that they can officially support their people in ways that we can only currently dream of.
So there it is. For years, we’ve galvanized around the local Kindred. We’ve built, lost, and rebuilt time and again, but always around the same foundations. We’ve matured past that point, but still we toil at the same plans, the same actions, and vainly hope for a different result. It’s comfortable. It’s easy. It doesn’t take a lot of effort. But ultimately, it gives us no voice, no mastery of our own destiny, we’re just leaves in a windstorm of religions, with no tree or branch to hold us. As it stands, we’re transient. Our Kindreds exist for a heartbeat, then fold. Forgotten save to those who were in them. That’s not a legacy. It’s not something to pass onto our children or our children’s children. We need to do better. We can do better. We have to do better.
Depending on where one reads, there’s a moderate amount of controversy among reconstructionists about more mystical practices, and most particularly Mystery work and initiatory things. We know organised and codified mystical practices happened in a variety of places, and we know that many cultures had actual organised initiatory groups and Mystery cults, but even when we know things about them we don’t know entirely what they were.
Some people have said that these are toys we don’t get to play with anymore. We lost the Mysteries, period, finished, end of story. We don’t know what they were, we can’t get them back, so let’s not go there. Which works fine for a lot of people; the stuff is genuinely lost, and not everyone is interested in the more esoteric and transformational stuff in the first place.
Basically, the argument is that we have lost the way to the mysteries, and since we lost it, we don’t get it back, game over, amen.
In this context, and at its most basic level, a Mystery is something which can only be understood experientially. People can collect information about the experience, can sometimes even be told what the experience will be, but without actually going and doing the thing, there’s a piece missing.
In the case of a religious Mystery, the acquisition of the missing piece is usually expected to be in some way transformational. The person from before has changed with the acquisition of this new knowledge, and there is no going back.
(I think that an overemphasis on the transformational and profound actually gets in the way of dealing with Mysteries reasonably, though. My go-to example of a Mystery is learning to ski. Before I went to ski, my parents told me, effectively, that turning was a Mystery. That I would understand once I got up on the mountain. That to turn I would need to go down, up, down. And I said “Down, up, down? That’s kind of useless gibberish.” And then I went skiing, and fell down a bit, and then I leaned in, and settled my balance, and then I lifted my weight and turned, and leaned in and settled my balance, and I said, “Oh. Down, up, down.” It was a Mystery. A little tiny one that didn’t change anything fundamental, but still.)
The ancient Greeks referred to two categories of mystery – the lesser and the greater. And the basic difference is that the lesser Mysteries could be spoilered. If you know the trick to them in advance, the experience is broken, and, as they say among my people, “You can’t get there from here.”
The standard answer I’ve heard is something like “They were provided by the gods.”
This is actually a pretty unsatisfying answer. Among other things it doesn’t explain why some people figure that we don’t get to play in the Mystery waters anymore. Obviously, if the gods made Mysteries once, they could do it again if they wanted to. It’s not like they can only do something in that one cave there.
So, the question persists: where did they come from?
The thing about many Mystery cults in their cultural context is pretty simple at root: there was the general, accessible, common-ground religious stuff out there for everyone. And then there were things for people with specific needs, specific spiritual hungers, specific callings. Some of them were weird little edge cases, very specific, with limited people allowed; some were huge endeavours that basically initiated entire villages.
The Mysteries start from where people are. They have a particular vocabulary that’s based in the surrounding religious understanding. They then use the tools of that vocabulary to do something maybe a bit deeper, maybe a bit specific, something special.
How did the gods provide the mysteries? My guess is that someone doing the regular cultural religious stuff found that a couple of bits went together in a particular way, and tinkered with it, and got whatever guidance the gods saw fit to provide, and there was, eventually, a reproducible experience, something that got people through something that was important to them.
Which means that the gods can do it again, if they’re so inclined.
I have been working with Mercury – also known as Mercurius – since 2008 and I still feel like I have only just begun to scratch the surface. Over the years I have encountered Mercury as stately diplomat, knowledgeable teacher, wordsmith, swift-footed divine messenger, lord of commerce, patron of public transportation, god of communication, and also as meddler, confusion-monger, cheat, liar, and thief of wit. His facets are many. In addition to his manysidedness, I will say one of the greatest challenges in my search for Mercury has been his syncretism with Hermes. Sometimes I think I am one of zero people who actually think of Mercury as separate from Hermes. To my thinking, they are like twins; they look alike, but they are different people with their own unique proclivities and personalities.
Roman religion changed drastically following contact with Greek religious beliefs and practices. Prior to contact, the Romans did not have a developed anthropomorphic view of the gods but instead believed in the numina, or spirits. These numina were not human-like but they were the beings in charge of organizing and executing the business of the world. Once the Romans decided to absorb many Greek beliefs and practices, the anthropomorphic gods of Rome were born. Most had Roman numina that served as a sort of ancestor. The Dei Lucrii, spirits of wealth, were the Roman divinities that served as Mercury’s ancestors within early Roman belief. As the religio romana changed and evolved over time, Mercury became associated specifically with commerce and trade, particularly the grain trade. As a result, many merchants and tradesmen were devoted to Him, seeking his blessings and making offerings to him at his temple in the Circus Maximus. By way of Greek religious influence, the caduceus, winged hat, and winged sandals associated with Hermes were attributed to Mercury. This influence was also responsible for expanding Mercury’s (recognized) jurisdiction to include animal husbandry, knowledge, travel, communication, the newly dead (as psychopomp), and divine heraldry, among others.
Flying Mercury by G. Bologne, Florence. Brooklyn Museum Archives, Goodyear Archival Collection / Public Domain via Wikimedia Commons
When I first began to work with Mercury, the vast range and diversity of his influence are what struck me the most. That same quality is what I suspect made it so hard for me to “get” him in the very beginning. As I thought about him more and began meditating with him, it occurred to me that he is first and foremost a God of Exchange. His role in exchange is obvious as a god of trade and commerce, but his reach extends beyond that. To my thinking, exchange is a unifying construct for understanding his specific areas of jurisdiction. For instance, as a god of animal husbandry, he facilitates an exchange between human beings and the animals and land that produce the stuff that sustains human life. As a god of heralds, he facilitates exchange between nations and other political entities. As a god of omens and divination, he facilitates exchange between humans and the gods. As a guide to the dead, he facilitates the exchange between the world of the living and the world of the dead. As a god of language and knowledge, he facilitates exchange between individual people and between cultures. This is the same exchange that he facilitates as a god of travel, roads, and hospitality. Mercurius was also understood as a god of skill in general. I understand skills as tools that help us to reach some goal or end or to facilitate a process. It makes perfect sense to me that a God of Exchange might need to be skilled at many things.
Related to Mercury’s role as a God of Exchange, he is associated with boundaries – both their maintenance and their crossing. To my understanding, it is in this capacity that he serves as a god of thieves and trickery. Like with most gods, he can bring favor or wrath; he can ward against thieves and grant the intellectual prowess that defends against trickery or he can admit thieves to your property and encourage a dullness of mind that would render one vulnerable to a wily trickster.
Interestingly, during the growth of the Roman Empire, Mercury also became syncretized, via interpretatio romana, with a number of other deities including Odin and Wodan among the Germanic peoples and Lugus and Lugh among the Celts, and many others. I think that Mercury’s tendency to be on the front lines of cross-cultural connections also fits with his role as a God of Exchange. It is noteworthy that no other Roman god seems to have been so quickly and so easily absorbed by so many diverse nations, which the Romans connected with (via trade) or invaded (via military force).
When I think of Mercury, I often associate him with the drive toward connection and exchange that lies at the heart of everyday life. We have interpersonal, political, social, religious, economic, and a host of other exchanges and interactions every single day of our lives. His sphere of influence is clearest to me in the morning when I travel to work. As I stand waiting for public transit, waiting for the business of my day to begin, I often look up into the trees and observe the wind rustling the high leaves and branches. I always think of it as the breath of Mercurius inspiring the connections, interactions, and exchanges of the day to commence.
If you are interested in honoring Mercurius, here’s a ritual that I wrote for him after he helped me through some major milestones in my life. I conducted this ritual with about seven guests present but it can be adapted to solitary work if you wish. What follows is the ritual script as inspired by but not dictated by Roman reconstructionist beliefs and practices. Ritual instructions are in italics and ritual speech is in plain print.
Roman relief depicting a scene of sacrifice, with libations at a flaming altar and the victimarius carrying the sacrificial axe / Antiques Museum in the Royal Palace, Stockholm / Photograph in the Public Domain via Wikimedia Commons
PRAEPARATIO
Create altar, start fire in the focus, start coal in the burner, burn purifying herbs – have some purifying herbs still burning when people enter the area.
Process to the ritual area.
Please take a moment to cleanse yourself of any influences that might hinder your ability to engage with the powers.
As we prepare to encounter the sacred, I invite each of you to bring your full awareness and attention to this place and this time in any manner you see fit, setting aside all else. When you are ready, turn your gaze to the altar.
Light the candles, lamp, and stick incense while everyone shifts their awareness to the sacred.
When everyone’s attention has returned to the altar, ring the chime two times.
PRAEFATIO
With head covered and incense offerings for Janus and Vesta in hand…
Janus, keeper of the gate, we ask that you open the way.
Sprinkle incense on the focus.
Vesta, heart of the hearth flame, we ask that you bless the sacrificial fire.
Sprinkle incense on the focus.
Janus, god of good beginnings, we ask that you bring all things blessed and auspicious to this rite.
Sprinkle wine (from the patera) on the focus.
Vesta, goddess of good sacrifice, we ask that you bless the day’s offerings and allow them passage to the god of the hour.
Sprinkle wine (from the patera) on the focus.
Ring the chime two times.
PRECATIO
Wash hands. Place one hand on the altar, then say…
We call now to Mercurius – blessed son of Maia and Jupiter, grandson of the one who bears the world on his shoulders – mighty god of exchange whose praises we sing.
Come quickly to join us for this hour’s honors are yours in gratitude for the many blessings you have visited upon us.
REDDITIO I
Mountain-born Cyllenius, god who delights in the high, airy places of the world, to you my Lord we offer Marjoram, a sweet light herb known as the Joy of the Mountains.
Author of Knowledge, you who crafted the alphabet, inspired great scholars, named the stars, and stitched the constellations, to you we offer bay laurel, the ancient world’s primary symbol of achievement.
Patron of Travelers, god of the roaming men and women who knit the world together, sharing who they are, where they come from, and where they are headed with other curious and adventurous souls, to the Traveler’s God we offer Mugwort, a roadside plant once used to pad the shoes of travelers.
Divine Messenger, who joins mortals and Gods together in the sacred bonds of mutual giving and good will, to you we offer Cinquefoil, an herb often used to bless divination and stimulate prophetic dreaming.
Master of Commerce in its many forms, great god who unites the world in the exchange of language, literature, spirituality and religion, art, science, grain, textiles, industrial goods, and a wealth of other gifts, to you we offer True Cinnamon, one of the most expensive and widely traded spices of the ancient world.
IMMOLATIO & REDDITIO II
Over the bowl containing the goat meat, sprinkle mola salsa and wine. Pass knife over the meat while saying…
Prayer of Consecration:
Mercurius, we consecrate this offering in the old way, with wheat, salt, and wine that it might be blessed for your use.
Now, cut the meat to symbolically kill the goat.
Divide the meat into two or five parts.
Bring the meat to the focus and sprinkle more mola salsa and wine over it.
Prayer to Mercurius:
This sacrifice of young goat is offered to you Mercurius in honor of the many connective, life affirming blessings you bestow. For your glory!
Place the meat on the focus, while saying…
May this offering please you.
Pause for a while in quiet reflection as the meat burns.
When appropriate, ring chime three times.
Ritual Closing:
Today we gathered in peace and friendship to honor Mercurius, great god of exchange. Our offerings have been made and our purpose fulfilled.
Pause. Ring chime once. Pause.
Thank you Janus for opening the way.
Sprinkle wine from the patera on the focus.
Thank you Vesta for hallowing the fire.
Sprinkle wine from the patera on the focus.
Pause then ring the chime once. After a brief moment of reflective silence:
This rite in honor of Mercurius is done.
Extinguish the altar.
EPULUM
Feast Announcement and Blessing:
Now, let the feast commence! May Mercurius bless this feast. As we consume this bounty, may his blessings of good food, good company, and profound prosperity rain down on us.
Gather plates, cutlery, and drinks. Feast and be merry. Toast Mercurius. Seek blessings. Make additional personal offerings of food and drink if desired.
Hansel and Gretel are lost in the woods and leave a trail of breadcrumbs to find their way home. Though this plan doesn’t seem to work out so well for them, it offers an evocative metaphor for those of us who are spiritual seekers on a journey home to a soul-based life.
My spiritual journey began in earnest the day I realized there was something essential missing from my life, that was somehow related to my soul. I was in the midst of my MBA studies, lost in a material, career-driven life, with an aching hunger for something I neither understood nor knew where to find.
No matter that I was lost, I had woken up to my spiritual hunger and decided that I needed to change. And that was enough. The Mysteries, those powerful, invisible forces that underlie our waking reality, heard my yes to change, and began to leave a trail of crumbs, in the form of life-changing encounters and events, for me to follow.
A few months later, I completed my MBA and set off on a solo backpacking adventure in Europe. Shortly into the trip, I landed on the wrong train in France, only to hook up with a fellow adventurer, who was also on the wrong train. She was a beautiful young woman from Hawaii, with an edge of wildness and burgeoning, feminine-based spirituality.
We decided to travel together, joining our itineraries. She took me to the subterranean caves of Dordogne to see Paleolithic paintings, and here I encountered the Goddess for the first time. Though I had no words or concepts to explain this encounter, I felt Her pulsing omnipresence the moment I descended into the womb-like darkness of the cave.
My spiritual odyssey unfolded from there; crumb by crumb, clue by clue, sometimes little steps, sometimes huge ones, the Mysteries led me through the dark, scary woods of my lostness. And, like Hansel and Gretel, my travels were fraught with challenge and suffering, but still the Mysteries led me, challenge by challenge, crumb by crumb.
Somewhere along the way, I understood that I was on a Hansel and Gretel journey, and that the Mysteries and my soul were leading me home to the presence of being and soulful life that I longed for. My task was to follow the trail of crumbs, doing the soul work presented by each, knowing that the next crumb would naturally follow.
Your Hansel and Gretel Journey
As a spiritual seeker, perhaps you are also on a Hansel and Gretel journey. Whatever you have lost and whatever you are longing for, these things set you on your path of soul, leading you home to a richer, fuller expression of your Deep Self and the best of your nature and gifts.
When you say yes to your soul’s longings, you are also saying yes to the Mysteries. With these potent forces at your back, opportunities and challenges show up on your path, gifting you with their impetus for healing and personal growth.
Through a Hansel and Gretel frame, you can conceive and consciously engage the Mysteries and your everyday life as guides for your spiritual healing, growth and evolution.
Here is what this pathwork looks like.
1. Start with your soul hungers.
What longings underlie your spiritual life? What are you hungry for? What are your deepest desires? What are you seeking?
From this awareness, name your longings and say yes to the personal change these soul-based desires invoke. You don’t need to know what these changes are; what matters are your sense of the rightness of your longings, and your readiness to follow where they lead.
This yes aligns your soul-based desires with the Mysteries, or powers of life, or Goddess, or God, or however you name and understand the unseen forces and energies that direct and influence waking-world reality.
2. Look for the crumb: the gift/clue from the Mysteries to direct your pathwork.
I sometimes call this pathwork: what’s in my face now? This is not an elegant turn of phrase, but an accurate one. The crumbs that the Mysteries leave on your path reveal themselves in the opportunities, challenges and unusual incidents that are right in front of your nose, and very hard to ignore.
Turn your awareness to what is happening in your life at the moment. What are you dreaming about? What challenges or positive opportunities have come your way? What is bothering you? Exciting you? What do you find yourself drawn to or repelled by?
Now widen your awareness to catch anything unusual, unexpected or attention-grabbing that has crossed your path. These can include social exchanges, synchronistic occurrences and physical objects. I am especially fond of found magic: unexpected objects that you stumble upon or that appear out of nowhere.
License plates can deliver messages. Books can fall open to specific pages. Unusual behaviors by animals can alert you to their totemic qualities. You can feel inexplicably drawn to something. Or have your plans waylaid, only to find yourself in some other, perfect situation. The possibilities are endless.
In this pathwork, look for common, reoccurring themes or messages. The Mysteries like to repeat and reinforce their crumb clues.
3. Pick up and claim the crumb: do the healing and personal growth work that the crumb has revealed to you.
This step takes commitment and courage, because soul work is rarely convenient or comfortable, and often takes you to the painful, shadowy places in your life story and experiences.
Yet there is great beauty and power in this work of soul. You are on the trail of your Deep Self and the best of your nature and gifts. As you heal and transform the old of your pain and suffering, you unleash greater love and goodness into your life. This is the hard, but wondrous work of healing and reclaiming your soul.
What this looks like will differ for each individual and at different times on your spiritual journey. And there is no perfect way to do the work, nor a predetermined destination or ideal state you are trying to reach.
There is only the imperative to do the soul work that has come to you, to the best of your ability, and with wisdom and self-care. You can go as deep and as far as is right for you, taking the time and gathering the resources (personal and professional) you need, with the knowledge that this is a journey of many steps, big and small, where one step/crumb naturally leads to the next.
4. Eat the crumb: let yourself be changed by your pathwork.
Though this may seem obvious: you do the work in order to be changed, this step can be the most difficult of all.
To truly change on a substantive, soulful level is to come face to face with fear and resistance, both inner and from your outer environment. These negative reactions are an expected part of the process. You know you are riding your edge and getting somewhere new when you come up against strong resistance and reluctance to change.
Listen to your fear and resistance, and let them inform your pathwork without derailing it.
Open and be changed, moving forward and deeper on your journey of soul. Again, give this your best, while acting with wisdom and ensuring self-care.
5. Begin again: look for the next crumb.
One crumb leads to the next, and the next.
Relax into and trust the journey. Play, keep your sense of humor, and stay with love, especially when the going gets tough.
Be curious and don’t over analyze, this journey will change you in ways you can’t even begin to imagine. The more loose and open you are, the more profound and life-changing the adventure.
Follow your instincts and wisdom. Make sure you have the healing support and guidance you need, both personal and professional. Always put self-care first.
Know that your engagement with the Mysteries is like any new relationship, it takes time to figure out how best to connect and communicate. Paying attention is the key to building your relationship with the Mysteries, and demonstrating your commitment to their Hansel and Gretel magic.
After almost thirty years as a spiritual seeker, I am still following my path of crumbs. The pathwork changes as I change, taking me deeper into the roots of my life story and experiences. With each crumb, I shed the old and become something new, coming home ever more deeply to my Deep Self and best nature.
It is still a path that requires great courage and commitment, though the forest is no longer dark and scary, and the challenges and struggles are tempered by the well-spring of love and power that has become my natural state of being.
I never cease to marvel at the wide, wild journey I have been on, from the profoundly unhappy and disconnected young woman I was, lost in a material, soulless life, to the woman I am now, comfortable in my own skin and beholden to what is best and beautiful inside of me.
In all these things, and so many more, I know that Hansel and Gretel have indeed revealed a great truth: that we can only ever find our way home one crumb at a time.
The Path of She is published on alternate Saturdays; follow it via RSS or e-mail! If you like Karen’s work, like her page on Facebook or maybe buy her book, Tale of the Lost Daughter, a fictional spiritual adventure into the life-changing world of magic and the sacred feminine.
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