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.

Kenaz; the Light of Knowledge and Truth

As I descended the stairs in the Tower, I noticed the lanterns upon the walls, illuminating the stairs so that I could descend them in safety.  The door was inscribed with Kenaz and a lantern hung above the Rune.  I opened the Door and crossed the threshold into the Otherworld and found myself in a large Library. 

There were books and scrolls everywhere, on shelves against the walls reaching stories upwards towards the ceiling, on tables in the center where someone had been working diligently in study. 

Lamps and lanterns glowed everywhere illuminating the space with warm golden light.

It was beautiful and I was filled with joy and pleasure at the sight and the warm power of the place.  

I wandered, finding a book in my hand and enjoying the firm ornate covering and the crisp clean pages and the words in neat print, then a soft, worn, leather tome with gilded edges on the soft delicate pages, then a plain ragged paperback with handwritten poetry.  

Each was a treasure of great worth to me. 

The words in one book reminded me that knowledge is Power, and that words hold Power. Truth is Power. Stories are a way of using that Power to create a better world, Stories and Poetry are magick, they can inspire and invoke and enchant.  They can change the world. 

My purpose in this world is about communication; poetry, and storytelling, and teaching knowledge, and telling truth.   My purpose is to help others find the candles, and light the lanterns, and teach them where to find the Library, and how to read the words.  

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.