Again, the Falcon

A week or so ago, When I was leaving the wooded area near my home with my freshly acquired Linden-stave, I was walking down a dirt trail beneath tall trees, and happened to look up just in time to see a small falcon fly directly over me.  I tend to regard sudden or unusual sightings of birds in certain situations as portentous, so I thought this encounter could be meaningful. 

Falcons are associated in the lore of the North with Freya, the (among other things) Great Seithkona (as a commenter to my last post astutely pointed out), but she is a deity that I have heretofore not directly dealt with, nor have I previously invited any kind of conversation.

This evening, as I was leaving work to walk to the train station, I noticed some motion out of my perephial vision and looked up just in time to see… a small falcon fly directly over me.

Both times, the bird has been flying ‘toward’ and over me, in a path that takes it *directly* over my head, maybe ten or fifteen feet above me.  I think it’s probably been an American Kestrel in both sightings.  This is a fairly common falcon that is small in stature and is distinctively marked with slate blue and rusty orange – a handsome bird.

Now, this is autumn after all, the beginning of the migration season, and skeins of songbirds fill the skies this time of year, so of course any birds of prey may be more likely to be seen out hunting by the casual observer.  And yet, I wonder. 

So, I will keep an eye out for the falcon-feathered, both in the waking world and in dreams… and we’ll see what develops.

Taking the Linden-Stave

I have wanted to procure a staff to use in Seithwork and other magical work for some time now.  I used to pick up and carry ‘walking sticks’ when I was younger, both for practicality when hiking, and because they always seemed ‘witchy.’  I didn’t know exactly what magical purpose I could use a big stick for, but I liked the idea of carrying one.  Now I have a purpose for a staff!  In Seith-work, one sometimes holds a staff when in the High Seat.  Not only does it serve as the World-pillar, a conduit of power, and an aid to travel, it also keeps you from falling out of the chair if deep in trance.

I didn’t want to just grab any old branch.  I was waiting to see if an opportunity presented itself (finding a storm-fallen limb or something similar).  I also wasn’t sure what kind of wood my staff would be, since there are so many powerful trees to choose from.  Oak for strength? Ash, or maybe wood from some fruit-bearing tree? I wanted to leave my options open and not assume it *had* to be a certain type of wood.

There is a place in a lightly wooded area not far from my home where several Linden trees grow.  One is close by a stream along a crossroads of two trails, where I have left offerings before.  A few weeks ago I was walking by this particular Linden and noticed that it had a low branch growing such that it was binding on one of the main trunks.  A nice, long, straight branch.  I thought it might make a appropriate staff, so I stood for a minute touching the trunks of the tree, making myself aware of it’s energy, and asked if I could take the binding limb to create a magical tool.

I got the sense that the tree felt neutral to slightly positive about the matter.  I also got a clear sense of the tree’s spirit, a feeling of great depth and height at once, run through with coolness like flowing water.  I thanked the tree for considering the matter, and let it know that I didn’t need an answer right away.

This morning, I started getting that ‘no time like the present’ feeling one sometimes gets when considering a magical endeavor.  The weather is cool and slightly overcast.  The moon is waxing Gibbous, just past a quarter moon – good for beginning a project.  Also, it’s almost Samhain; the border-time, and I wanted to take the limb, if that was still a possibility, before the Dark Half of the Year began in truth. 

The nature and disposition of wights can shift with the tides of the year, since they are so close to the Earth, and so a wight or spirit may be more pleasant during springtime or harvest time, or more wild during winter.  It depends on the type of being, of course, but I assumed that the same might hold true for a tree-coil, as well.

Different species of Linden trees are found throughout Europe and North America.  In Europe (especially Germany and Central Europe) they were often the tree that was planted on the village green, in the center of town.  A kind of Irminsul or central pillar, if you will.  Linden trees are also associated with the Dwarves in German folklore. This is symbolism I can work with!

So, today I decided to take the stave.  I packed a small hand saw and some offerings, and rode my bicycle down to the area near where the tree grew.  I must mention that I didn’t want to be observed by anyone, since taking something out of this place isn’t exactly…allowed.  So, I tried to keep it low-key.

I walked to the trail-crossing and greeted the Linden.  Again, I stated my purpose and asked, as a child of the Old Ways and a Seith-worker, if I could cut the limb.  The tree still seemed all right with the idea.  I had also chosen this limb, in part, because it did bind the trunk and so cutting it would help the tree in the long run.  To the tree, I first offered clear water that I had mixed with a few drops of Vedis’ blessing oil.  I then offered some milk and cream together.  Lastly, I pricked my finger with a needle, and offered a few drops of my blood.

Then, I cut the limb from the living tree.  I trimmed it to size and laid the unused parts on the bank of the stream.  I saved a leaf so I could idetify the exact species at a later time.  Then, I held the stave aloft and tapped the butt on the ground nine times, in effect, showing the newly cut stave to the surrounding spirits.

I went to the tree and thanked it for its sacrifice, with words somethig like:

Hail to the Four-trunked Linden!

Such ringing depth,

Such rustling height!

I thank you for you sacrifice, O Linden,

For your gift of the binding branch.

Lopped limb will be a Seithwoman’s stave.

Hail thee, Hail thee, Hail thee!  

Then, I packed my things and got out of there.

When I got home, I tapped the stave on my porch three times, and carried it across the threshold.  Now it is mine, and I will let it sit with the bark on throught the winter, so the wood can dry with less chance of splitting.  It is quite tall, (taller than me), and heavy.  I’m not sure if I will leave the forked end, but for the moment I am inclined to.  I like it’s size and weight, and I believe it will serve me well as a world-pillar.

Dr. H. R. Ellis Davisdon’s ‘Road to Hel’

http://forestgrove.files.wordpress.com/2010/10/the-road-to-hel-study-of-the-conception-of-the-dead-in-old-norse-literature.pdf

This is a PDF version of Davidson’s long out-of-print work ‘The road to Hel: A Study of the Conception of the Dead in Old Norse Literature.’ 

The link is on the Witch of Forest Grove blog site, ( http://witchofforestgrove.com/)which is in itself a wonderful resource for Wildcrafting and Traditional Witchcraft information.  I thought that this particular work might be relevant to the interests of fellow Seith-workers. Enjoy!

Milk, and an Earth-Fast Stone

On Sunday I travelled along with two of my fellow Catskin Sisters to hike in Fox Ridge State Park, which is about an hour south of town.  It is near Charleston, IL; the town where I attended college.  I had in years past spent much time in this forest, and had gotten to know it well. 

The terrain of Fox Ridge is more hilly than most of the surrounding area, with sharp ridges and deep ravines.  Tall trees, some ancient and gnarled, lie along these hills and along the sweep of the Embarras (pronounced “Embraw!”) river.  The trail we walked ran throught the lowlands, along a stream that flows in the spring and early summer, but is usually dry by autumn.  We saw many majestic Sycamore trees with ghostly white bark on the upper branches, many so old that the trunks had become hollow and mysterious with age.  

One of our purposes in walking in this forest was to try and feel the presence of the local land wights.  I knew this to be quite an enspirited place from my earlier aquaintance with the area.  I also thought it would be nice if we made an offering of appreciation to the local land spirits.

I must say that although all three of us had intended to bring beer as a suitable offering, we three of us all forgot! So, we stopped at a convenience store on the way out of town to get *something*.  They sold no alchohol there, but Anise had the idea of getting a small container of milk to offer instead.  Brilliant!

We took our time walking, admiring the forest and lay of the land.  It was a great day to be out in the woods, and we all agreed that just being there was restful and calming.  What is better than the woods on an early autumn day?   

In a bend along the dry, sandy stream bed that ran beside much of the trail was a medium-sized boulder close beside a tree with roots exposed by the bank.  This, I decided, would be where we left our offering.  Several tiny grey Spring Peeper frogs called this place home, so water must have still run close to the surface here. 

We each poured some milk onto the stone with honor and well- wishes for the land wights. The words I spoke were something like:

‘Hail to the wights of this wood, both great and small – Wights known to me and those unknown.  Milk I pour upon this earth-fast stone, that you be strong, that this kingdom be in your keeping forever’. 

A moment after we began our rite of offering, a breeze blew through the trees along the stream, rustling through leaves just turning golden, a soft air from the wood.  It was remarkable how much the atmosphere changed in an instant just from our simple, informal act.  The wood was wakeful, it was aware of what we’d done.  I felt that our offerings were appreciated and well received; that the simple act of making an offering, of *doing,* was of great importance, small though our act may have seemed.

Hail the wights of the Wood!

Hagalaz: Seed and Storm

 

The rune Hagalaz (Hagall in Old Norse, Haegl in Anglo-Saxon) is the Hailstone, a destructive force that smashes what has been built up, that lets loose chaos where there once was order.  So it is with hail’s ruin of ripening crops, and so it may be with this rune’s effect on the order of one’s life.  If this rune comes up in a divinatory reading, we flinch – much in the same way we would if the Tower were drawn from a Tarot deck.  But, the power contained in the rune Hagalaz is not evil.  It is often harsh, but still a neccessary part of the unfolding of natural processes.

   Hagalaz is the ninth rune of the Elder Futhark.  Of this rune the Old English Rune Poem says: Hail is the whitest of grain;/It is whirled from the vault of heaven/and is tossed about by gusts of wind/and then it melts into water. It seems paradoxical that spheres of ice might rain from the sky, wreak havoc, only to melt away into nothing. However,  this stanza gives a clue to the rune’s meaning, for Hagalaz takes part in both the might of the sky-realm and of the cthonic earth-current. 

This rune in modern usage has two distinct written forms.  While they both have the meaning of ‘hail,’ their symbolism and uses differ. 

The form of the hail-rune that appears in the Elder Futhark looks similar to the modern English ‘H.’  This is Hagalaz in it’s destructive aspect: the storm. In this regard, the hail-rune signifies a sudden destructive or un-looked for occurence that often serves as the groundwork for neccessary change.  Sometimes the storm is unavoidable, and seems at first to have only negative consequences. But, every beginning must come from an end of some kind, for better or for worse.       

The other form of Hagalaz looks a lot like an asterisk.  This form occurs in the Younger Futhark, and also among the more modern German ‘Armannen’ runes.  Called the Mother Rune by some rune-workers, in this form the hail-rune symbolizes a primal seed, the stone that melts, it’s six rayed shape echoing the structure of a quartz crystal or snowflake.  This is the hail after it has fallen, melted away – when the energy of potentiality can be unleashed.

While the deity most often associated with Hagalaz is the goddess Hel, another figure I especially associate with this rune is the Norn Urd. She has command of the past, those layers of one’s Wyrd that have already been laid down and have played out in the manifest world.  The icy grain of hail forms layer by layer, tossed about in the high clouds, until at last it is too heavy to be kept aloft, and falls to earth. So it is with the ripple of past into present; when the skein of a thread of events becomes unhelpful or destructive, it often collapses under it’s own weight – the situation falls apart or things come crashing down, allowing something new to be borne up in turn.

Hagalaz can certainly be a rune of harsher meaning. However, if drawn in a divinatory reading, or encountered during meditative work, it shouldn’t neccessarily be feared.  The crops that lie flattened in the field only serve to nourish the grain not yet planted, though their destruction brings sorrow in the short term.  Likewise, the flux of change can be painful when it is upon us, but sometimes, a new pattern can be woven in no gentle way.         

For further reading on this and other runes I recommend: Secrets of the Runes by Nigel Pennick, and Northern Myths and Magic, by Freya Asswynn.

Meditation on an Autumn Day

Fall days at last!  Today the weather was blustery and cool, so I decided to take a walk in Meadowbrook Park.  The sun was shining, with fluffy white autumn clouds scooting along in the sky.

Now, I prefer to walk in the forest, or any natural area, when it is still, overcast, or damp – especially if I am trying to walk with Awareness, or get any Work done.  Sun and wind make me feel scatter-minded and blown about. by the time I got to the park, I felt a little tranc-ey, so I thought I would meditate and see if I could maintain a light trance if I found an appropriate spot. 

There is a place in this park that is a little ways off of one of the trails that run throught the prairie restoration, in a grassy area dotted with trees.  Long, long ago I’d done some spellwork there, but in one of the tree-groves there lives a wight who did not appreciate my intrusion.  Nothing was *done,* but I have always gotten a sense of unfriendliness from this certain tree.  It was near this area where I decided to sit.

In this area there is also a circular spot where the grass is all trampled down as if people have been there, and against one tree is a section of stump, like an altar.  Could be just deer trails, the stump just a leftover from a past brush-clearing project, but I wonder if other pagans have used this area for ritual? I’ve never seen any offerings left there, nor encountered another soul on the trail, but even if no one else has used this natural clearing, I plan to.  It is in one of the most enspirited parts of Meadowbrook. 

I sat myself beneath a young oak tree with graceful branches hanging down.  I asked first if this was okay, and got the sense that it was, as long as I didn’t go into the grove where the dour wight lived.  So, I grounded and centered myself, really trying to focus on being within myself very strongly, before drawing up any energy. As I filled myself with the currents of earth and sky, I could feel the presence of the tree behind me as a tingling sensation all along my spine, and I could feel the sense of its roots in the earth, reaching down among stones and deep water.  I didn’t try to journey anywhere, or accomplish much with my meditative trance.  I just wanted to get the sense of the place, and open myself to any messages I might need to receive. 

I thought about Frau Holda, and how glad I was about the brief contact I’ve had with her.  I asked how I could better honor her, and got the sense that I should read my folk and faery tales, as much good information is hidden in them regarding her, and that in my offerings to her I should not forget the Huldrefolk.  They are the hidden people, hill-spirits, wights that are associated with her – are they, as some of the tales say, the spirits of unbaptised children? Are they mound-alfs, or land wights? They seem like brownies or gnomes, almost.  I am not sure, only that they too are important, and also venerate Holda.  How I would love to ride sweeping across the autumn skies with her and the Host of the Hunt! 

I also asked the same question regarding Odin, whom I wish to come to know better.  Odin: The clearest impression I once had of him (while in his presence) was of a huge shadowy bear walking upright but silent through deep woods, and of steely blue-grey like a sky on the verge of storm.  Yes, you of a hundred names – I would come to know you better, even though you are not safe!  I got the sense that mead and honey were fitting offerings, and that some image or object associated with him should have a permanent place on my altar.

Throughout this time, I was only in the lightest of meditative trances, and I could feel the energy of the place  around me. It was quite pleasant.  I even asked the wight in the next grove over why he was so upset.  ‘You stole from me!’ came the reply.  I apologized, though I admitted that I hadn’t realized I’d stolen anything (since I’ve never taken anything from that grove) but I got the sense that he is a spirit that just doesn’t care for mortals in the first place, and considered a mortal traipsing around, tying a spell to one of his trees branches, to be a theft of privacy.  Sorry about that! I was young…

When it was time for me to go, I thanked the place and asked if it would be all right if I came back.  It was (just don’t go near that one Linden tree, yes, I know).  So, not a profound mystical experience, but I was glad of it all the same.  It left me refreshed, with a better understanding of the energies of a place I plan on returning too more often.