Tag Archives: Víða Goði

A Month for Freyr: Alfheimr; Home

Things have been relatively calm, which is good, because I have not had it in me for very much stress. The amount of devotional things that I had wanted to do this month have been frequently put off because my health has been poor. I’ve substituted by spending more time with him at home, which has been easy due to the amount of rest my body has needed.

I know that with Loki, at least, people assume that everything is constant sex. I don’t know what people assume about spouses of Freyr, but it is also probably not as mundane as the truth can be.

He enjoys walking in the fields and the forests, the meadows, and visiting the streams, lakes, waterfalls, and rivers. This is much of what we do: we walk. The spirits of the places do not feel a need to take the form of anything, most of the time, or be visible in most traditional senses, but they are all very highly sentient and easy to feel. The places where the sun falls, where things are growing, have a feeling like a fat, happy cat laying in a sunbeam. They are well-satiated and feeling very glorious in the sun and with things on their surface growing so healthily and strong. The fields love him, and the meadows full of flowers and herbs and grasses do, too. Meadows are rather feminine, whereas fields are more masculine.

Forests have as many spirits as they do trees, it seems, though they do seem to have some that are in charge, for lack of a more appropriate term. Some of them are gruff, at least on the exterior, and suspicious of new people. But whether or not an ancient tree is looking upon me suspiciously, anything related to willows adores me. I’ve had saplings lean into my hands, and leaves rustle over my shoulders and arms. It’s very humbling, and charming at the same time.

Though it is seen as some sort of hippie foolishness, I have to wonder if there is, in fact, a very good reason to hug trees, and that is that they love people who connect with them, and express their love through touch, too. Trees on earth don’t have as much freedom of movement as trees elsewhere, so perhaps we should go to them, and lay our hands on them, embrace them, lean against them, and most of all, talk to them. It doesn’t have to be out loud; they’re perfectly capable of hearing what’s inside our heads, especially when directed toward them.

As much as it is a stereotype that elves love to live in forests, from Lord of the Rings to nearly any other story I can think of (excusing the drow of the Forgotten Realms D&D world, and so on), I can’t argue with it much: the alfar love the forests, and seem to choose them more than most other areas, though they live everywhere.

The water is as alive as anything else, and all of the stone. One of my favorite things to do is sit against a rock by a particular stream in a forest and listen to it, and the wind in the trees.

Around his home, there are many clear spaces for fields and though there are wooded areas, they are not forests, and so I’ve loved this traveling around we’ve done lately. Living in a city here, and being too ill to go the parks, it is such a gift.

The Demigodspouse Edition

Brand’s parents, both being gods, seems to, according to the sort of genetics we learned in middle school, mean he is also one, but he is profoundly uncomfortable about the idea, and I sometimes refer to him as a demigod to aggravate him. It worked too well, here, for a title to go for the sort of politeness one would expect when discussion my best friend/lover/husband/twin.

I helped with the ceremony for Brand and V., and had my first (in my opinion, extremely awkward, but no one shares my opinion) foray into being a priest for other people.

They were there, very much.

It’s very silence-inducing, at least in the afterward, feeling them so strongly here, in such a way that I am confused by people who do not believe in any form of divine, or other, or at least more than we can know.

Wights

V had a nightmare and curled up with me sometime around the phase of nautical twilight. As it moved toward dawn, the birds began their chorus, and two crows were conversing over the din. V told me the crows were the only thing he could identify by sound; I pointed out a robin, but while I love birds, I’m a little restricted to things that were common where I grew up.

There’s a mourning dove wandering around the base of one of the trees I can see from this window. There are many old trees on the property and whether middle-aged or elder, they are all inhabited by spirits I can sense just by looking at them.

I’ll need to find some privacy to go around and talk to them, and make some small offerings. The yard has been ripped up in places and trees cut down and plants torn out due to “con”struction. The trees I can see don’t seem to feel upset, but the worst of it happened in the back, I believe, and I’m facing the road. 

People are shouting upstairs. Brand is making a face. “Needless to say, you won’t be meditating, or doing your practice for the Dalai Lama’s birthday any time soon,” he said.

“I’d like to do it while it’s still his birthday where he lives. If they can stop shouting some time in the next six hours, I’ll be good.”

I got up and looked at part of the back, and there is a space that I can see easily, which is clearly very traumatized. Apparently the worst is over in a direction I can’t see. Further, the “con”struction workers, ripped the flowers up from over one of the graves.

I’m getting a much clearer sense of what Freyr had in mind for me.

Summer Solstice

I had to put off my solstice doings until the night of the 22nd, because I was simply exhausted on the night of the 21st, and I can’t get private access to parts of the yard unless the landlord is asleep, plus we have incredibly nosy neighbors and I wanted to feed and thank the tree on our sidewalk.

I spent part of the afternoon outside of my body, so I could speak to two of the wights and spend time with them. My nocturnal activities involve a lot of rushing around and I don’t tend to get a chance than to do more than put my hand on something and send it my gratitude and love. They were happy to see me and wanted to talk about my wedding and all sorts of things.

When it was late enough, I went out in the flesh with 3/4 of a bottle of mead and distributed it to the major wights and the smaller ones around the boundaries of the house.

I was surprised that I used the entire bottle (it’s a very small plot of land), but that gives me an idea of how to plan for such things.

Roots.

I sent this to someone I am commissioning some important items from, while asking for an update on the project.

The spring has been running hot and cold here, but at least we had the time to enjoy some of our favorite flowers, and we’re looking forward to seeing what happens with the butterfly and hummingbird seed mixes we sowed.

Our bleeding heart has been completely astounding this year. It grows beside one of the plants that has the dominant spirit of the land attached to it. Their energy seems to blend together well, which no one predicted when we planted it. She (the dominant land spirit) seems more peaceful with him beside her, tangled with her roots.

I had never thought much about it, but they do seem to be a mated pair, now. Foolish of me to not think about, honestly. Everything loves, and wants to be loved, and how fortunate we are when we find someone we can love and be loved by.

One of the oracles Brand received this month was to never neglect his friendship with me. It was never in danger, but they thought it should be emphasized.

We don’t talk about it, because honestly our lives are so much all over the place that it seems superfluous to bring it up, but we became a couple some time ago. Everyone who knew us well was so thoroughly unsurprised that I think we were the last to know we were in love with each other.

We ground each other. And are each other’s safe harbor, I think. He was told by the oracle that they thought it might be because we were both important to each other’s spiritual path, and that is certainly true. We support each other. Our roots tangle together.

The ring for my Work arrived the other day. I like it. Freyr likes it. I certainly can’t wear it every day; it’s too wide between my fingers, dismantling Brand’s theory that I’d been secretly corralled into buying a wedding ring.

There’s nothing I can do about you

Bleeding Hearts

The above is a personal photo with all rights reserved.

I remember the day that I accepted that I was in love with him. It was the day before I had to suddenly sort out all of my romantic life and where I was living on whichever plane of existence.

But before that, before everything became complicated, I had one of the few moments in my life when I felt completely happy. It felt like it would burst through my skin.

Brand has been cheerfully planning my wedding, with or without me. Before I’d had more than one conversation with Freyr. I have not decided how I feel about this. Commitment to relatively mortal beings doesn’t frighten me, but commitment to a god is a little overwhelming.

I haven’t felt bothered or nervous at all about the Work I’ve been given, though I finally got the full-on skeptical eyebrow face from someone about it yesterday. Despite being similarly aware that if I abandoned my Work, it would also not be good. But the Work demands so much less than a spouse. I can have things come up and need to reschedule. You can’t reschedule people very well — I should know, by now: Freyr is extremely difficult to reschedule and heavily dislikes it.

At least if I am completely exhausted and he wants to see me, holding me while I sleep seems to make him happy. I spend at least a couple of nights every week sandwiched between him and Brand like that. Brand, perpetually tired, here. I, little better. Freyr, never tired.

I did notice I’d been herded into buying a ring, but it’s fairly unsuitable outside of Work. It isn’t something I can leave on all of the time, and wash my hands, shower, etc.

“It could be an engagement ring!” Brand chirps in with.

“I’m pretty sure it’s part of the official outfit,” I respond wearily. “It doesn’t make a lot of sense as anything else, honestly. It’s too… him-as-god, not him-as-boyfriend/spouse.”

“Do they separate?”

“Thankfully.”

“What kind of wedding ring would you like?”

“Did he put you up to this, or is this just your meddling?”

“Meddling.”

What is important is that when we are together and things are quiet (it actually happens sometimes), I feel comfortable and I want to stay. I don’t want it to stop. There are days that I hate getting out of bed, not because of my lifelong depression, but because I feel safe on a level deep enough that I do not have to actually think, “I feel safe.” Or “I feel peaceful.” I feel like what I imagine cats feel like when they’re sleeping curled up with another cat in the sun.

Or otters, who hold hands when they sleep so they don’t drift apart with the tides.

The landvaetter.

They seemed pleased with their offerings and attention, though many were buzzing around me and still were when I came in and they stayed a while. When I came in, they asked for a candle and incense. Two things, at least, that exist in abundance.

Freyr told me specifically that I was to be their priest. He used the word more than once. And didn’t quite specify if by “area of land” he meant the area of land on this property or larger than that — I hope he meant on this property. It is enough that the woman downstairs shouts at me whenever I am in the yard, despite paying rent, without having to deal with other neighbors.

But no wonder they need it, when she exists, and she tears apart anything she does not like in the garden. A lavender bush that had been growing beautifully for six years or so, she had torn out while everyone was away and no one could stop or retrieve to try to replant.

I was also advised to stop using the cherry wood runes I had been using and get willow wood ones as soon as possible.

I took a lot of photos, and also have many photos Brand took for me, that I have not put up yet.