Mannaz; Relationship

I stepped through the Door and over the Threshold into the Otherworld.  I found myself in the hallway of my childhood home.  I was dressed in black, for my brother’s funeral and was standing at the door to what had been his room when we were children.  I knocked on the door and opened it and stepped inside.  It was as I remembered it being when we last both lived there in our late twenties.

I was no longer dressed in black. I was no longer my current age.  He was not in the room but, his dirty work clothes were on the floor and I could smell the cologne he used to wear. 

I left his room and when I closed the door, and was again my current age and wearing my funeral dress.

When I returned to the Threshold and closed the Door behind me, the Mannaz Rune had faded.

Jera; the Harvest

The Door of warm golden wood was carved with Jera, surrounded by a wreath of apples and leaves.  I opened the door and stepped over the threshold and into the Otherworld. 

I looked at my feet but they were hidden beneath the hem of a burgundy silk gown.  The floor was stone, like the Tower itself but covered in soft colorful rugs. 

I looked around and found myself in a large room lit with lanterns and a fire burning in the hearth at one end.  The air smelled of cinnamon and fresh baked bread.

 In the center of the room was a long wooden table dressed in gold and red brocade and filled with an abundance of food.  Platters and bowls and baskets filled with honey glazed ham, fresh bread and hard cheese, apples and peaches and berries, pitchers of cider and wine, and vases of roses and autumn flowers.  

Dancing music filled the room and the sound of laugher and cheerful conversation.  The chairs around the table were filled with the harvest of a life lived well, family of blood and family of choice, lovers and dear friends, and children who have not yet been born.  My heart was filled with love and hope and joy at the sight and sound of these beloved ones.  This is the harvest I hope for.  Beloveds who are happy and well.  Being surrounded by them in celebration of life.  May my Gods grant me this harvest.  So mote it be.

I spent a long time enjoying the company and when I became tired I fell asleep in a soft comfortable chair beside the fire with a babe in my arms.  When I woke I was again in the mundane world.

Berkano; Birch and Beginnings

The Door with Berkano inscribed upon it was covered in white Birch-bark, and when I opened the Door and crossed the threshold into the Otherworld I found myself in a grove of Birch Trees.  My own skin was white and papery like the bark on the trees.  I wandered among them and the conversation was of beginnings, and giving birth. 

I was instructed that my life is about to begin a new book, it is filled with clean white blank pages and my responsibility is to write upon those pages a story of truth, and love, and peace.  I am to create poetry of joy and pleasure and wisdom and healing.  I do not get to decide all of the plot twists, only how I respond to them.  I do not get to know everything about the journey of the story, only how to tell it, and to whom.  It is beginning.  The past exists in other books that I have written, and they inform the story, they are my back-story but, the time has come to start again.

May I tell this story well, and may it create magick that makes my world a better place for small growing things.  So Mote It Be! 

Gebo; the Gift of Joining

I stepped over the threshold into the Otherworld and looked at my feet.  I was standing upon the soft new grass of a warm spring day and my bare feet were almost hidden under the hem of a party dress the color of new willow leaves.  When I lifted my gaze, I found myself on a gentle slope in the morning sun. There were others there, all dressed in brightly colored finery.

A tall pole stood in the center of the meadow, colorful ribbons dancing in the breeze.  And at the other side of the gathering stood two people, their hands joined and, smiles upon their faces.  The two gazed lovingly into one another’s eyes, as if they were oblivious to any but the other, and I felt profoundly blessed to be present, and grateful to witness the gift of their joining.

The assembled celebrated with cheers and laughter, dancing and singing to the music that came from a small group of musicians sitting close to the Maypole. I danced and sang among them for as long as I could and when I felt the time had come for me to go, I offered a blessing upon the couple and took my leave.

Eihwaz; Trees of Life

I opened the door, stepped into the Otherworld, and looked at my feet. They were covered in bark, my legs and arms in soft green moss. My dress was made of leaves of every color. The path beneath me, a carpet of soft brown pine-needles, cushioned my every step in the dim twilight.  The forest was old-growth, the trees ancient.  All was silence and the whispers of stars.

I followed the wide gently sloping path through the woods, noticing Trees of every species I know.  They were each familiar to me.  The willow next to the house I grew up in, the Maple in the yard of my best friend.  The Pine on the hill behind the cottage at the lake. The Paper Birch in the neighbor’s front yard.  The Apple in the Orchard, the Cherry in the cemetery where the soldier and the baby are buried.  The Sycamore next to the stream.  The Oak in the park where I lived the past 20 years.

I followed the path through the woods until I came to a clearing.  At the center stood a Tree so large the branches were too high for me to see.  I stood upon the roots, close enough to place my hand upon the trunk, and I offered energy through my hands, and then I could feel my ancestors sending energy up through my feet to flow through my hands to the tree.

I could feel the strength of the Tree, holding up the universe, lending support and structure to the flow of Life itself.  Providing a channel for the energy to flow to and from the Underworld, the Upperworld, and all the Otherworlds. 

I gave thanks to the Tree and returned the way I had come.

Laguz; the Temple of Sorrows and the Queen of the Abyss

I open the door and step into the Temple of Sorrows.  I know this place and why I am here.  I hear the wailing the moment I cross the threshold.  The sound is everywhere, like a whirlwind moving across the waters, 

The Temple is dark and cavernous.  There is no floor, only dark water rushing continuously in a tempest of sound and yet, I stand ankle deep with nothing solid beneath my bare feet.

I see her standing in the center of the cavern.  Cloaked and hooded in black, bowed, still and silent, surrounded by the keening of sorrow and grief.  The bottom of my black dress sticks to my legs as I walk through the waters to stand before her.  She does not even lift her head to look at me as I push back the hood that hides her face.  I remove the cloak from her bowed shoulders, her dress the same as the one I wear. She bares a symbol in ashes upon her forehead.  It is a symbol tattooed upon my back. 

Finally she looks at me and her face is familiar but unknown to me.  She must have been beautiful once, but there are dark circles under her eyes and her pale skin is dull and ashen and clashes with her long dry hair, a faded shade of what might have been chestnut in the sun.   

Her eyes are the only part of her that looks truly alive. Her eyes are hazel, green and gold with hints of warm brown around the edges. I look into them and I see glimpses of our lives, of hers and of mine and of those lifetimes in between. 

Tears begin to flow down her ashen face.  My cheeks are hot and wet and as we weep together, the keening finally stills as does the water that surrounds us.  I take her into my arms as I would my sister and I feel her heartbreak echo in my own heart. 

As I hold her, I feel a crack in the ceiling of the temple, a rip in the fabric of the stone above our heads and she sighs soft as a whisper, the only sound she has made. I promise her that I will return that I will be with her through every step of this, until she is transformed and we are both free.

Uruz: Wild Strength

I stepped through the door and into the Otherworld and looked at my feet.  I was barefoot and I wore a long linen tunic, natural in color but, embroidered with patterns of leaves and spirals in shades of greens and browns, russets and gold.  There were feathers braided in my hair and multi-colored beads of wood, stone and bone hung about my neck.

I stood on a grassy hill in the warmth of an early summer day and a path stretched out before me and disappeared over the rise of the hill.  I followed the path as it wound its way around the hill and down to a wooded hollow.  When I followed the path into the shade of the trees, I came to a rushing stream with a large Willow on the bank trailing its branches in the fast moving current. 

I stepped into the stream and stood there with the cool water flowing past my legs.  I looked into the clear water and saw a brook trout, spotted and small, swimming but unmoving in the deep pool behind a rock.  And then suddenly, I was the Trout. 

I felt the water, filled with oxygen, flowing through me.  Into my open mouth and out through my gills.  I felt it moving over my scales and, with the simple flutter of my fins, the current’s flow made it effortless to swim in stillness behind the Rock.  And then, I was the Rock.

I could feel the earth holding me and the sun warming me, and the water flowing around and over me.  I could feel the delicate, supple, new branches of the Willow brushing against me as they trailed in the current and then, I was the Willow.

I could feel my branches trailing on the surface of the current and brushing against the rock.  I could feel my roots deep in the earth taking in the water and reaching out all around me.  I could feel the sun on my leaves and the energy feeding me and the breeze playing with my upper branches. I watched the sunlight play upon the water and, a Heron flying low along the path of the stream and then, I was the Heron.

I flew through the air with barely a feather moving.  I glided along and landed gently and stood on thin, elegant legs in the depth of the water, seeing into the current, watching for fish to fill my belly.  And then, I was myself again, standing in the middle of the stream, water flowing past my legs.

I stepped out of the stream and onto the bank.  I said farewell to the Willow and the Rock and the Trout and the Heron, and followed the path back to the grassy hill.

I felt stronger than I have in a very long time.  The wildness of the place fed me and filled me and freed me in a way that I have been needing for so very long now.  I returned with a knowing that I must renew my connection to all that is wild, both within me and in the world around me. 

While I am working to transform the structures of myself and my mundane life, I must never neglect to feed the wild inside me.  I cannot wait until life allows it.  I cannot allow the demands of my mundane life to be stronger, to take more from me, than the work I am truly here to do.  I must feed the fires of the wild heart until they are so strong that my mundane life is a small and pale shadow in comparison.

Dagaz; Dawn Comes

I stepped through the Door and into the Otherworld and looked at my feet.  I wore heavy black boots and a thick woolen dress and cloak.  It was so dark all around that the trees surrounding me were barely visible and cast no shadows, for no moon and no stars shone in the sky above.  It was brutally cold, I shivered even beneath the heavy woolen clothes and despite the heavy boots, my feet felt as if they were naked to the ankle-deep snow in which I stood.  

There was no discernable path in the snow, and no footprints to indicate that anyone had passed here before me.  There was no sound, no wind, just the incredible weight of loneliness and darkness and cold, deep in my bones and my heart.

I wandered alone, stumbling over rocks and roots hidden beneath the snow. It seemed that there would be no relief from the dark and lonely place my heart had been living for longer than I cared to remember.  I wandered for what seemed an eternity.

But after a time, I noticed that I could see the Trees.  I thought perhaps my eyes had simply become accustomed to the darkness but, the snow appeared to be paler.  And then, I noticed a sparkle on the snow that drifted up from the surface as I walked.  I thought my eyes were  playing tricks on me but, then I saw another sparkle.  And I looked up. 

I looked up from my feet and from the snow-covered ground and through the trees to the sky.  I saw a single star just above the horizon, and just the hint of light beginning to show in the East.  Dawn was approaching and as I continued to walk, Daybreak pushed at the dark sky.  I stood looking at the growing light and breathed deeply and released the darkness with a sigh. 

 Light returns.  Dawn comes. 

Othala; the Heart of the Ancestors

I stepped through the door and into the Otherworld.   I looked at my feet.  I was barefoot and the grass beneath my feet was soft and brown.  I wore a simple woolen dress of my family tartan, and a bronze amulet of a boar, my family’s totem, hung over my heart on a ribbon of red silk. 

I looked around me and found myself in an autumn evening at twilight.  The woods nearby were almost bare and the path in front of me led over a grassy hill.  I followed the path over the hill and on the other side found a low round-house with a thatched roof.  The windows glowed with warm light and wood-smoke rose from the chimney into the evening air and smelled like home.

When I found the doorway, the wooden beam above was carved with a crescent and v-rod like the tattoo on my back, the side beams with a trisckle on the left and a spiral on the right. An equal-armed cross decorated with knotwork adorned the threshold and a red whole-cloth blanket quilted with a dragon covered the door.  I pulled the blanket aside and entered, letting it drop back into place behind me and looked around.

The roof was supported by a network of straight beams in a concentrically spiraling starburst pattern, the walls were stone and the floor was covered in rugs of braided wool rags like my great-grandmother used to make when I was a child.  Glowing oil lamps and books filled the small wooden shelves around the walls, and musical instruments hung from the beams supporting the roof.   

A fire danced brightly in the small hearth, warming the entire house. In front of the hearth sat a small wooden table with a white linen table-cloth, and on it, my grandmother’s teapot in robin’s egg blue and two miss-matched cups.   Beside the table I saw a basket made like the rugs, of braided woolen rags and inside the basket, a babe wrapped in a yellow blanket crocheted like my Nana had made it.  The infant slept peacefully, breathing easily, safe and warm and blissful. 

As I turned to leave, something flashed on the edge of my sight.  I turned again to see on the mantle above the hearth, an egg of garnet.  It was deep and clear and smooth and it seemed to glow from the inside.  As I continued to gaze at the stone, I heard music and a voice speaking to me of the “heart-stone”, the heart of my ancestors.  The stone will receive the energy I send to it and it will serve as a source of power for the ancestors to protect the child, to heal and bless the babe in the basket.  

When the music and the voice stilled, all was quiet once more and as I pulled back the blanket covering the door, I noticed my grandmother’s garnet ring upon my hand.  I went back out into the night and followed the path back the way I had come.

Perthro; The Well of Secrets

I stepped through the Door and into the Otherworld and looked at my feet. I was barefoot and standing on flat stones, wet and smooth and shining like polished silver. It was night, I wore a deep purple gown and the rain fell softly on my bare arms.  The tall dark trees around me sparkled with silver lights as though an entire tribe lived among the treetops.

The path led in a spiral and I followed it down to a deep well surrounded by the same flat stones.  The water was clear but dark, like a scrying pool.  A woman with dark hair and dark eyes and pale skin, wearing a dark gown sat beside the pool.  She spoke to me with her mind and showed me all of the secrets of our family, generations of us, our Wyrd and our fate. 

She said that this was the Well of Secrets, of memory and fate and the Wyrd of us, of our family.  All was water and light among shadow and I gave a gift, a silver strand of light from my womb.  I cast it into the well as an offering to our family fate, to the family secrets.  A sacrifice to further us along, a promise to teach my children love.

I vowed that I would teach my children not to be afraid, that with me, in my heart and in my love they are safe from abandonment, from ever having to sacrifice themselves or their own truth. 

I know this vow is true and right and I know that it begins with me.  I returned with a renewed sense of peace and purpose.  

Ansuz; Learning to Listen

I stepped through the door and into the Otherworld and looked at my feet, then at my body, then around me and waited.  I could see nothing.  I thought my eyes must be closed but, that was not the case.  I thought something had gone wrong.  All I saw was nothing, blackness, stillness, silence.  I did not understand.  I waited.  I almost began to panic but I was breathing and I could hear and feel my breath.  I could feel my heart beating.  I waited.

A voice spoke in the darkness and I listened.  It spoke about hearing my inner voice.  It spoke about listening to my own instinct and intuition.  It spoke about listening and following my own wisdom.  It was only a voice, only words, language, that thing I love most of all.

Months later I learned the lesson again.  In the mundane world of my job, I learned what it really meant to listen and follow my own truth.  I also learned that journeying can take any form that is needed.  Sometimes it defies all expectations and I need to be willing to let go of the ideas I have about what will happen.  I had begun to do just that and this journey brought the lesson home.

My Dark Moon Ritual is all about listening to the voices of Clarity, Truth, Intuition and Wisdom.  It is about turning inward toward the stillness, silence, darkness and listening to Spirit.  This journey was another way to experience that listening.  It just so happens that it was a Dark Moon in February.

Naudhiz; Connection

I step through the Door and into the Otherworld.  I look down at my feet, I am barefoot and the ground beneath my feet is covered in dead leaves.  My legs and arms are bare and my body is covered by a rough leather hide and a knife is tied at my waist.  All is quiet and as I look around me I see that I am in a wood in late autumn at dusk.  In one hand I carry a wooden bow and in the other a handmade arrow. 

There is a broad path before me and I follow it through the wood.  I walk quietly, slowly but with an easy stride.  I feel the leaves beneath my bare feet, they are soft and I am surprised at how comfortable and at ease I am in this place.  As I walk, I begin to feel a strong hunger in my belly and slowly a sense of urgency creeps into my body.  I begin to feel a strong need to complete some crucial task and return to my home before it is too late.  There are those I love in need and I must provide for them or they will suffer.  My heart is pounding so loudly in my ears that I can hear nothing else.

The feeling of constraint, of real need, becomes so strong that it is almost overwhelming.  Then I see her, standing in the middle of the path a dozen yards in front of me.  I stop and stare at her and she looks at me.  Our eyes meet and I am overcome by her beauty as I raise my bow, nock my arrow upon the bowstring, pull back and aim at her heart.

The moment I release my arrow, my heart almost explodes, and when it pierces her heart, I feel the sharp point penetrate my own.  My body convulses with the shock as I make my way to her as she falls.  When I reach her, I kneel at her head and with my knife I slit her throat.  I can feel the life and spirit leave her; I can feel our blood drain into the earth as I hold her as she gives up her life to feed my own. 

My bare legs and feet are covered in her blood as I kneel beside her beautiful body and I place my hands in the blood pooled upon the earth around me and bathe my arms and face with it.  I understand the cost, the sacrifice and the true connection between the hunter and the one who is hunted to feed the tribe.  It should be painful to take a life; it should sacrifice a part of the hunter to fill the need.

Sowilo; Riding in the Sun

I stepped through the Doorway into the Otherworld and looked at my feet.  I was barefoot and standing on green grass in the sunshine and I wore a simple green dress, the color of the grass.  I stood on a hill in the late spring in the full sunshine of mid-day.  The land around me was a patchwork of meadows bordered by tall trees in full leaf and before me there stood a beautiful chestnut mare.  She walked up to me and I climbed upon her back and she began to trot across the meadow until we came to a trail. 

She trotted and cantered and walked and galloped and when we came upon a fence or a downed tree she jumped it with ease.  The sun was warm, the breeze was soft, the air was sweet and her movement underneath me felt strong and sure.  I simply rode and let her have her way.  When I felt a desire to go in a particular direction she seemed to read my thoughts and adjusted her movement with subtle grace.

When she returned me to the place she had found me, I slid off her back and stroked her soft warm neck in thanks.  She stood, waiting for my gift, my offering.  I found in a pocket of my dress an apple and I offered it to her and she spoke to me.  She asked me for a vow.  A vow to play in the sun, to do those things that I found to be fun.  To enjoy my life and follow the subtle and graceful way that she had shown me.  I made my vow and stood a moment longer enjoying the sun and the breeze and as she walked away, I felt filled with contentment and pleasure.  

Tiwaz; Dance of the Wolf Shaman

Painting by Susan Seddon Boulet

I step through the Door and into the Otherworld.  I look down at my feet. I am barefoot and the ground beneath my feet is covered in snow.  I am wearing animal pelts, furs secured with strips of rough leather.  They are soft and warm and despite the snow upon the ground, I do not feel the cold. 

I look around me and discover that I am in an old-growth forest of conifers.  The sky overhead is black, but filled with bright stars.  As my eyes adjust to the darkness, the path before me is just visible enough to follow, the starlight reflecting off the snow that covers the ground.

I step forward and begin to follow the path through the forest.  It is dark and quiet and as I walk along I begin to feel as though I am being watched, not followed so much as accompanied by an unseen companion.  It is then that I notice the light ahead.  I continue on, eager to discover the source of the light.

I come to a clearing in the trees and find a large fire blazing at its center.  I pause for a moment at the place where the path meets the clearing and watch.  The fire is very large and burning bright and high, sparks rising from the top high into the night sky.  Then from the other side of the clearing, he appears dancing around the fire.  He is large and has long hair and a long beard and he is naked but for the pelt of a wolf.  He is dancing ecstatically around the fire, spinning and leaping and moving more like a wolf than a man. 

Then I notice the wolf pelt laid out upon a large rock next to me.  Instinct tells me that I am to put it on and dance with the shaman.  I do and find that my awkwardness fades and I move as if the wolf is dancing through me. As I dance, I can feel a sense of sacrifice. 

I feel the sacrifice that the shaman makes, going into the dark, cold night and dancing alone.  Sacrificing the comfort of community for the sake of his community.  Leaving the comforts of his warm, safe home and the pleasures of his bed and his lover, the joys of tucking his children in, to dance this night with the wolf in the forest.

I leave the pelt I have been given upon the rock on which I found it and return the way I came.

My Pwca always lays with me when I travel and this journey was no different until just before I opened the door.  He suddenly attacked my hand with teeth and claws and then removed himself to a chair instead.  As soon as I returned and closed the door behind me he returned to my side, as loving as always, and purred until he fell asleep.  The message I took from that is that he doesn’t like Wolves.  He will travel with me but not if I am going to visit the Wolf.

Wunjo; the Joy of Mud

I stepped through the door into the Otherworld and looked at my feet.   I was barefoot and the ground beneath me was mud, silky and cool.   My feet and legs, my bare arms were covered in a sheen of mud as well.  I wore a dress of brown silks, many shades in velvets, taffetas, brocades and sheers, unfinished edges and uneven but beautiful. 

I looked around me and found that I was in a wood, wet and muddy.  I walked along a path to the bank of a stream; the water was high, flowing, opaque brown and lovely. On a clear bank I saw a short round stump and walked towards it.

Upon the stump I found a pile of unformed clay.  I began to play with it and to form it and found that I had created a baby-doll, like the one I had as a child, and I became aware of a truth about myself.  I have been a mother my entire life.  Even when I was a toddler, the mother was a part of my identity. 

I noticed that, while I had thought that I had used all of the clay to create my child, there was yet more there and so, I began to play again and found myself making a bowl.  When I placed the vessel upon the alter next to the child, there was yet more mud and so I took it up and began to play again. I made small round coins and carved then with the runes, and placed them in the bowl.

When my creations were complete I sat in the mud and I was filled with a feeling of satisfaction, contentment and joy.

Isa; In the Orchard

I step through the Door and into the Otherworld.  I look down at my feet, I am barefoot and the green grass beneath me is covered in frost.  I examine my clothing, a silver sparkling gown, my bare arms covered in a thin layer of ice.  My every breath creating an icy fog with each exhale, with every inhale a clear, cleansing chill permeates my chest then spreads throughout my entire being.  I look beyond my breath and find myself in an orchard.  The trees encased in ice.  Each branch, each leaf, each fruit completely coated in clear crystalline ice.  The sun is just rising before me, the new moon a sliver just above the tree tops at the far edge of the orchard. 

I step forward and follow a path between the glorious sculptures.  The sky above is clear and tinted a soft rose and pale gold. The light of the rising sun illuminates the icy details of the life waiting to emerge.  All is quiet and still.  Alive, but waiting. 

I come to a clearing in the center of the orchard.  There is an alter of ice, a vessel, like a chalice.  It calls to me and, I approach and stand before it.  I search for an offering and find I have no tangible object.  And then I feel light from my heart emanating forward in a silver stream.  The light fills the chalice and I feel full of hope and peace. 

The sunlight slowly melts the ice and life waits in stillness, in silence, to emerge.

Raidho; Welcome to the Journeys of the Runes

Raidho is the rune for travel, the vehicle that facilitates the journey.  The Runes, the Elder Futhark, can act as the keys to lessons that can be found in the Otherworlds.  They can unlock the door and carry us to places that we will discover truth, guidance, wisdom and council.  They are gifts, earned by sacrifice. The All-Father hung upon the World Tree for nine days and nine nights and returned to the world with these magickal symbols.  I honor his sacrifice and his gift when I draw the runes. 

"All-Father grant to me, Runes of sight that I may see. Grandmothers sing, and spirits speak, wisdom from the well."

This is a place where I will share the journeys that I have taken using the Runes as keys and guides.  I am not an expert on the Elder Futhark and this is not an academic commentary on their history or on the many ways they can be used, in magick, in healing and in divination. This is one witch's  experience of the Runes in one area of practice.  I access the Runes in each of those ways.  I draw the Runes everyday.  They are a part of my daily life and practice. They are one of the ways that I receive guidance from the Gods and from the Ancestors and some of the most powerfully magickal and healing symbols I know.  Treat them with respect, use them with care.  Study them and honor them and they will improve your life and your magick.

If you are seeking a reliable, academically sound resource, I strongly recommend Diana L Paxon's "Taking up the Runes".  I have read every book on the Runes that I could get my hands on in the past few years, academic and metaphysic, and hers is the most comprehensive resource that I have found.

Welcome to the Journeys of the Runes. 

Blessed Be and Good Journeys.