Socrates and the Shining Father

Dyḗus ph₂tḗr (or Dyeus pəter) ** is the god of the day-lit sky, reconstructed through comparative mythology and linguistics, and theorized to be the progenitor of the Indo-European sky gods and allfathers. The name Dyeus — from which many of the romance languages derive their word for “god,” such as the Latin “deus,” the Spanish “dios” and the French “dieu” — comes from a Proto-Indo-European root that means “to shine.” The name ph₂tḗr or pəter became the Latin “pater” and the Germanic “*fadēr,” and eventually the English word father. 

The exact character and practice of the historical worship of the Dyeus pəter among the Proto-Indo-Europeans will always be a matter of speculation and academic debate (since they left no written records). There’s no point in trying to “imitate” the Proto-Indo-Europeans in the 21st Century or in saying we “know” exactly what they believed. What is useful is the broad theme, the connection, the repeated idea, the prevailing archetype of the patriarch in the sky and the light of his cosmic order. 

This is a few steps beyond the 19th Century nerdgasm of connecting oneself to the “true” Aryans, which now more often than not attracts the low-energy ressentiment of men who desperately want to believe that a questionable connection to some ancient charioteering conquerors makes them somehow better than “others.” I’m going to skip past all of that. In fact, what I like about the Indo-European frame is that it is directly or indirectly connected to a much wider range of men and is conceptually accessible and relevant to all men. 

For some time, I’ve been promoting a “solar” mindset. 

I recently came across Plato’s “Analogy of the Sun,” which precedes his more famous “Allegory of the Cave” in The Republic. In Book VI, (507b–509c), after admitting that he could not explain the essence of goodness (or greatness), Socrates uses the sun as an analogy for “the child” of goodness. 

Socrates argues that of all the senses, the only one which requires a third factor beyond stimulus and the organ to function is sight. We can touch and hear in darkness, but to see something right in front of our eyes, we still need light. 

The sun creates light, and we can see the sun, but the sun is not light itself. Socrates explains that light and truth are like the sun, but not the sun. The sun is one step removed from something greater, some primary cause. 

“Now, that which imparts truth to the known and the power of knowing to the knower is what I would have you term the idea of good, and this you will deem to be the cause of science, and of truth in so far as the latter becomes the subject of knowledge; beautiful too, as are both truth and knowledge, you will be right in esteeming this other nature as more beautiful than either; and, as in the previous instance, light and sight may be truly said to be like the sun, and yet not to be the sun, so in this other sphere, science and truth may be deemed to be like the good, but not the good; the good has a place of honor yet higher.”

— Plato. The Republic

Socrates continues…

“You would say, would you not, that the sun is not only the author of visibility in all visible things, but of generation and nourishment and growth, though he himself is not generation?

[…]

In like manner the good may be said to be not only the author of knowledge to all things known, but of their being and essence, and yet the good is not essence, but far exceeds essence in dignity and power.”

— Plato. The Republic

As mentioned earlier, Dyeus Pəter is the god of the day-lit sky, but not exactly the sun. Maybe he was more like Zeus or Odin or he may possibly have been more abstract like Uranus. 

What is interesting to me is the idea of a paternal actor or force that makes growth and generation and light and knowledge and higher all reason possible. 

Gods and heroes are ideals for men to imitate. 

We may never know the thing beyond the sun — the cause of knowledge and being and forms — but why would we not strive to imitate this theory of goodness as explained by Socrates in Plato’s “Analogy of the Sun?”


Be not generation, but the cause that makes generation and nourishment and growth possible. 

Be not knowledge, but a force of revelation.

** There are a variety of spellings in the source material. Dyḗus ph₂tḗr is the one used on Wikipedia. For the rest of this piece, I’ll use a simplified Dyeus pəter, as the h₂ is more or less a schwa — the sound of the letter “a” in the word “about.” As an English speaker, when I see a “ph” I want to make an “f” sound as in “phone” and I’ve made that mistake in speaking about Dyeus Pəter in the past out of habit. 

Read more
, ,

All Training is Sacrifice

This 2016 essay has become a reader favorite, so I am republishing it on the new site today.

Don’t kill your ego. Sacrifice Yourself To Yourself.

Bruce Lee wrote that: “Punches and kicks are tools to kill the ego.” 

It sounds like mountaintop mysticism, like some far-out, far-eastern form of overdubbed, white-bearded enigmatic enlightenment. 

It’s become a training cliche. Whether you are training with weapons or weights, someone will eventually tell you that your ego is your enemy. 

The problem with that is, your ego is also — you. 

People tell you to kill your ego because they want you to get out of your own way. They want you to stop acting like you already know everything, because by seeking out training, you’ve already acknowledged on some level that you don’t know everything.They want you to leave your status or perceived status in the world behind, so that you can submit to the learning process as a student — with no chip on your shoulder and nothing to prove. 

They want you to train with humility and avoid hubris — an ancient Greek concept describing a man who overestimates his own power or status and brings himself into conflict with natural law, which is, from a mythopoetic perspective, the will of the gods. His hubris eventually leads to his downfall. In the case of training, a man’s hubris makes it more difficult for him to learn and grow as a practitioner — his hubris becomes the cause of his stasis.

Conceit, hubris, arrogance…this kind of ego-tism is only one negative connotation of the word ego, which also describes a much broader concept of self. 

“Ego” is actually a Latin word for “I,” sometimes translated as “I, myself.” 

The Twentieth Century use of “ego” in English to mean “self” stems from the psychoanalytic work of Sigmund Freud, who used the simple word “Ich,” also “I,” in German. This seems less editorial and more in keeping with the Latin “I, myself.” 

In the Freudian model, the super-ego, or Über-Ich is the ego above and beyond the self. It’s the part of the conscious and unconscious self that absorbs and processes collective identity as well as the demands and the norms of the group, culture, society — tribe.

If you train on purpose — if you train because you want to train — your training is driven by the ego. 

Voluntary training is endured in the service of the ego, with the ultimate purpose of validating the ego, increasing self worth and improving social status. You train because you believe that you are good enough to be better, and worth improving. Or perhaps you see yourself training for the sake of others, for the group, to protect them or fulfill a role you believe you are good enough and able to fulfill. If you train for honor — to be worthy of your peers, your ancestors, your gods — you train because you believe yourself to be capable of honoring them. (1) This too, is a product of your ego.  

The ego, in both the broadest and the psychoanalytic sense, describes your conscious mind. It makes up the bulk of your “I” or “Ich.” Your ego is what separates you from dust in the wind. It’s the part of your mind that is awake, sentient, self-aware. To whatever extent you are the master of your own fate and the captain of your soul, the “you” is your ego. It is your ego — inseparable from any knowable version of “you” — that perceives and processes information about the world around you, evaluates that information, and selects a direction or course of action. It is the ego that manifests will.

Men train in the service of a higher version of the self, imagined and willed into existence by the ego. Training is self-creation — becoming — not self-destruction. 

The aspects of the ego which must be destroyed or contained in training are self-imposed scripts and limitations and habits which may impede the progress of your self-development.This is a pruning of the ego — a sacrifice of old growth to stimulate new growth. 

This pruning may be painful as you clip away or brush aside cherished ideas about the talents or even perceived limitations that you believe make you special. 

People seem to take almost as much pride in the untested reasons and rationalizations they’ve dreamed up for why they can’t learn in a certain way or do a certain thing as they do in untested delusions of grandeur — especially in this slave age that prefers victims to victors. Often, their perceived limitations are like those of a boy who believes he can’t swim or doesn’t like swimming because he fell in a pool once and didn’t know what to do. 

The world is also full of men who want to tell you how much they used to lift or how fast they used to run, before they got “old” or suffered some injury that elite athletes work through all the time. “Limitless potential” is a fantasy, but most people set their own limits long before they come anywhere close to the top end of their potential. 

While some believe they can’t when they can, many others believe they could when they probably couldn’t. Millions of doughboys overestimate their ability to fight because they won an altercation in high school once — or worse, because they’ve watched a lot of videos of fights and think they “have a pretty good idea of what they’d do.” You can find them second-guessing professional fighters and quarterbacks in bars and in front of television sets all around the world. 

To truly become the kind of men who know they have the ability and the conditioning to do what these men merely believe they can do, these couch captains would have to abandon their self-authored fictions about themselves. They would have to go through a process of failing and looking stupid before they even started to look like they knew what they were doing — much less became truly capable of performing as they’ve imagined.  

To train successfully, you must be willing to sacrifice portions of your present self-concept to a future, higher version of the self created by your ego. It is your ego, god-like, that is initiating and driving the process of self-transformation and becoming. This process requires you to exchange something you have for something you want. Nothing worth anything is truly free, and everything worth having requires some kind of sacrifice. 

Instead of “killing your ego” — instead of fighting yourself — approach training as a sacrifice of a part of yourself to a higher self. 

This is the way of Odin. 

Odin is usually depicted with a missing eye, because he sacrificed one of his own eyes to the giant Mimir in order to drink from his well of wisdom. He sacrificed a portion of his superficial sight for a deeper, higher way of “seeing.” . 

In another tale, Odin disguised himself as a farmhand and labored through a growing season, doing the work of nine men to gain access to Óðrœrir, the mead of poetry and inspiration. To get the mead, the hooded wanderer eventually had to seduce the giantess Gunnlod, whose name translates roughly to “invitation to battle,” and slam her out for three nights in a row. (It must have been a rough three nights.)

Odin is perhaps best known for his self-directed ordeal hanging from the world-tree Yggdrasil, wounded by what was (presumably) his own spear. After hanging without food or drink for nine nights, the runes reveal themselves to him, and from them he gains magic and a greater understanding of the universe. 

While this scene is superficially Christ-like, and it makes sense to wonder how much Christian imagery and intent colored any of the surviving stories of pre-Christian European pagans, the stark difference here is in Odin’s motivation. 

The spirit of Odin’s ego-driven self-sacrifice is captured in the following lines from the Hávamál:

og gefinn Óðni

sjálfur sjálfum mér

a sacrifice to Odin

myself to myself

The Hávamál is known as “the sayings of the high one” — sayings attributed to Odin himself. The majority of the first 138 verses pass down practical advice for living, as if from a grandfather or a wise old king. These lines about the sacrifice of self to self are found in a distinctive portion of the text that reads as if the speaker has slipped into a trance. In this dream state, the high one recalls his initiation into the mysteries of the runes, through starved meditation, while hanging from the world tree (2):

Veit ég að ég hékk 
vindga meiði á
nætur allar níu
geiri undaður
og gefinn Óðni
sjálfur sjálfum mér
á þeim meiði
er manngi veit
hvers hann af
rótum rennur*

Við hleifi mig seldu
né við hornigi
nýsti ég niður
nam ég upp rúnir
æpandi nam
féll ég aftur þaðan		I know that I hung
 on a windy tree
for nine full nights
wounded with a spear
a sacrifice to Odin
myself to myself
on that tree
which no man knows
from what root it runs*

None made me happy with loaf
Or with horn
I looked down below
I took up the runes
Screaming I took them
And then fell down from there

Odin’s martyrdom is a self-martyrdom, done in the service of no one but himself, for reasons of his own. He sacrifices himself to reach a new level of understanding, and through that understanding becomes a higher version of himself.

Odin acknowledges that he doesn’t know everything, and instead of sitting on his throne sipping mead and marveling at his own creation, he pushes himself out of his own comfort zone and forces himself to do what he believes to be necessary to know more and become better. The Allfather could easily compare himself to other gods and humans and all of the lesser creatures, and be satisfied. But Odin doesn’t measure himself against others, he measures himself against himself.

The opposite of Odin wouldn’t be a giant or a dwarf or a man — or even the wolf who swallows him and ends his life. Odin’s opposite would be the person who tells you to “just be yourself” or to “be happy just the way you are.”

The story of Odin is a challenge and a reminder that no matter who you are or what you’ve achieved, you can do more, learn more — you can make yourself better in some way.

The practice of Odinism requires no worship of Odin with kneeling prayers.

One who practices Odinism acknowledges the worthiness — the original meaning of the Old English word, “weorðscipe” — of the Odinic ideal by embodying Odin. A man becomes Odin by acknowledging the worth of the way of one who is always seeking, always improving, always willing to sacrifice a piece of himself to become more, to become better, to do more.

All training requires some kind of sacrifice of self to self. Of something you have for something you want. Of something you want to do now for someone you want to be later. It may even be a part of you that you cling to, some idea about yourself that you’ll have to give up temporarily or permanently, because it is preventing you from becoming who your ego believes you can become.

When you’ve decided what you want to learn or what you want to do or how you want to transform yourself — work to remove the internal obstacles that are preventing you from achieving mastery or realizing that goal.

Be the loosener your own fetters.

Determine what you have that you need to give up — time, money, work, habit, comfort — and sacrifice it on the bloody altar of that vision.

When you are tempted to feel burdened or victimized by the hunger of your vision for sacrifice, remember that you are the visionary — the father of it all.

You are the god, the priest, the slaughter and the harvest.

(1) For more on training for honor, read my essay, “Train for Honor” in the collection A Sky Without Eagles.(2014)

(2) The translation is mixed and simplified, based on the comparative work done here: https://notendur.hi.is/haukurth/norse/reader/runatal.html

I’ve done my best to mimic the reconstructed Old Norse pronunciation in the recorded version on that page, albeit with my own quirks and dramatic inflections.

Read more
,

Wōdanastallaz

With some help from friends, this summer I designed and built this structure dedicated to Wōdanaz, the Proto-Germanic name of the god Odin or Óðinn who appears in the Old Norse Eddas and Sagas. 

The name Óðinn is derived from the word Óðr, which has a variety of meanings having to do with the mind or soul, but also madness and possession, as well as inspiration and poetry. 

Óðr is a descendant of the Proto-Germanic word wōdaz, meaning “excited, energized, spirited, frenzied, obsessed” as well as “angry” or “furious.” Proto-Germanic is largely theoretical and unattested, as few written records of it exist, but runic inscriptions of the word Wodan have been found on various continental objects. 

Stepped back even further into reconstructed languages, the word becomes *weh₂t- in Proto-Indo-European. *Weh₂t- is likewise thought to have meant “excited, inspired, possessed” or “raging.” Proto-Indo-European is believed to be a root language spoken in the Pontic-Caspian steppe of Eastern Europe about 5,000 years ago. The language branched out to the East and West, and its descendants include most of the languages spoken in the West today, as well as Iranian languages, Sanskrit, Hindustani, and many more. Notably, a descendent of the word *weh₂t- is the Latin vātēs, which indicates a seer, oracle, prophet or poet. 

Broadly speaking, from both the etymology of his theonyms and the surviving lore concerning Odin, he represents an aspect of masculine divinity that deals with “inspired” activity. 

Creativity is always a little bit crazy. We can choose to consciously develop ideas after we have them, but inspiration itself “comes to us” from the subconscious. It bubbles up from darkness. Wōdaz is that magic moment of inspiration where we lose ourselves and slip out of time and something “overcomes” us. It is a state of transcendence. 

In more practical and everyday terms, I believe there is an overlap between the concepts of wōdaz and what Mihály Csíkszentmihályi called a “flow state.” A flow state is a peak experience when we are so focused on performing a challenging (but not overwhelming) task that we lose track of time and there is a “merging of action and awareness.” 

I have experienced what I would consider flow states while writing, working on computer-related tasks, designing, painting, lifting, exercising and sparring. For more information on flow states, I would recommend the book by Mihály Csíkszentmihályi [pronounced: Me high, Cheeks send me high].  

The best and most comprehensive overview I have ever read on Wōdanaz is a book of the same name written by Stephen Flowers, if you can get your hands on a copy. I ordered mine directly through his Facebook page. 

I have come to see Wōdanaz or Odin, the “Allfather,” as a late and particularly Germanic manifestation of an older conception of paternal divinity — the original “sky father” — who academics have conceptualized as Dyēus Ph₂ter. 

The late Germanic idea of Odin is often portrayed rather darkly, as a malevolent trickster, and Odin has become attractive as a somewhat Luciferian figure to young black metal enthusiasts who want to rebel against Christianity and Christian morality. In many cases this “darkness” itself is probably in part an effect of the Christian demonization of pre-Christian European paganism. Odin was often portrayed in a devilish or “satanic” role in European folklore, and in the late 20th Century many youthful Satanists matured into Odinists as they moved away from reaction in search of a more positive paradigm. For as long as I can remember, there has been a direct pathway from Satanism to heathenry, Asatru and Odinism. As they say, “it’s a thing.” 

However, in all of this dark imagery, some of the more Olympian aspects of the lore concerning Odin seem to get lost. This god who is always tricking giants and appearing to men in a foreboding way was also shown on a high seat overlooking the world, and overseeing a great golden hall of heroes. As in the myth concerning his acquisition of the mead of poetry from the giants — which has become one of my favorite stories about him — he is both a serpent and an eagle. He delves into darkness with a noble purpose, and emerges as a noble creature, carrying the golden mead of inspiration to share with gods and men. This transformation into an eagle is an echo of something we also see in Zeus. 

Based on his comparison of the surviving myths from various Indo-European cultures, Georges Dumézil theorized that the sovereign function of society and divinity was separated into a formal, judicial aspect and a wild, unpredictable “supernatural” aspect. In modern men’s psychology, these aspects are assigned to “king” and “magician” archetypes. These two types are not dissimilar in character to the productive exchange between the Apollonian and Dionysian as described by Nietzsche in The Birth of Tragedy and mentioned in my last book, A More Complete Beast. In the work of Dumézil, these two functions of divine, paternal leadership were normally separated into two opposing but complementary gods. What is particularly interesting about Odin is that he is both Apollonian and Dionysian. However, it is that wild, unpredictable and mysterious side of Odin that is highlighted in modern culture, but also in the surviving lore and even his name itself. 

What Odin illustrates for me is the principle that it is the work of the paternal figure — the work of man — to venture into darkness and chaos to bring forth wisdom, inspiration and beauty. He slips between worlds — on his eight-legged horse, whose name, Sleipnir, means “the slipper” — and brings something back. The defining story of Odin is his sacrifice of himself to discover the mystery of the runes. He hangs in darkness for 9 nights, until he takes up the runes and falls down screaming. For those who aren’t familiar, the runes are not only writing, but each symbol is also associated with some concept or larger meaning. One can employ the runes to explore these primal concepts and meditate on them, if one is so inclined. 

This structure is named the Wōdanastallaz — the stall of Wōdanaz. Neopagans sometimes call altars “stalls.” We stepped the name back into Proto-Germanic, which is part of the culture of Waldgang, my Germanic pagan sacred space in the Pacific Northwest. 

I envisioned the Wōdanastallaz as a place to encounter and explore darkness and mystery, following the Odinic example. Several small rituals have already taken place inside the building at various stages of completion. During group events, ritual ash is prepared in this building, and participants are invited inside to be ceremonially anointed.

Inspired by German Expressionism, the black structure of its external face is covered with a chaotic intersection of runes from both the Younger Futhark and the Elder Futhark. The floor is dirt, so that there is no barrier blocking a connection to the earth. There are no windows, and at night it can be made completely dark inside. The foundation was ritually blooded, and red runic inscriptions were made all over the structure before it was painted black.  

The focus point in the stallaz is a steel sun wheel with an eye in the center that I use to symbolize “solar vision” and the visionary eye of Odin, the Allfather. Another “solar vision” symbol can be found on the entrance awning, above the word Wōdanaz, spelled in runes. Various art objects, remains of sacrifices, and gifts of tribute can be found throughout the internal space. More will be added as time goes on and the space continues to evolve.

Read more
,

Ride In Power

Wild Hunt Illustration

The holiday season is the season of The Wild Hunt, an ancient European folklore motif that continues to manifest in the collective consciousness through the enduring story of Santa Claus — that bearded magic man from the North who rides through the air on Christmas eve, barely two days after Winter Solstice.

The theme of The Wild Hunt, or Die Wilde Jagd, was first identified by Jacob Grimm, who theorized that the recurring stories of some dread hunt or huntsman found throughout Germanic folklore were the persistent echoes of pre-Christian pagan beliefs.  

The hunters have been variously identified as dead warriors or simply the dead, and the hunt has been led by everyone from Cain to King Arthur, but Grimm believed it was Odin who originally led the hunt.

In the American West, the Wild Hunt recurred in cowboy legends that were immortalized in the song “Riders in the Sky.”

Visions of The Wild Hunt were often believed to be harbingers of doom and war, but Grimm thought that this was probably due the Christian demonization of indigenous European beliefs. 

These divinities present themselves in a twofold aspect. Either as visible to human eyes, visiting the land at some holy tide, bringing welfare and blessing, accepting gifts and offerings of the people that stream to meet them. Or floating unseen through the air, perceptible in cloudy shapes, in the roar and howl of the winds, carrying on loar, hunting or the game of ninepins, the chief employments of ancient heroes : an array which, less tied down to a definite time, explains more the natural phenomenon. I suppose the two exhibitions to be equally old, and in the myth of the wild host they constantly play into one another. The fancies about the Milky Way have shewn us how ways and waggons of the gods run in the sky as well as on the earth. With the coming of Christianity the fable could not but undergo a change. For the solemn march of gods, there now appeared a pack of horrid spectres, dashed with dark and devilish ingredients. Very likely the heathen themselves had believed that spirits of departed heroes took part in the divine procession ; the christians put into the host the unchristened dead, the drunkard, the suicide, who come before us in frightful forms of mutilation.

Jacob Grimm, Teutonic Mythology (Volume 3).

In researching this for a recent ritual at Waldgang, I was struck by the fact that in both the hunt and the lore regarding Valhalla, the valorous dead are actively engaged in joyous strife. Warriors hoped that if they were slain in battle, they would be chosen and find themselves among the other Einherjar. It was believed that in Valhalla, they would battle each other all day, and then be healed so that they could feast all night and then fight again the next day. 

This is a stark difference from those who yearn for an afterlife of rest and relaxation, of simple “happiness,” of passive communion with the divine, or even for an extinguishing end to cycles of death and rebirth. 

These noble, adventurous men dreamt of a “heaven” that promised endless adventure and lively struggle. They dreamt of man’s primal and primary occupation at the perimeter between order and chaos. They dreamt of hunting and fighting — forever and ever.

This spirit is captured by my favorite poem about the Wild Hunt, written by painter Arthur Fitger in the late Nineteenth Century. In it, Odin tells the reader to call him in the storm and the night to avoid the stifling grave and join in the wild hunting life for all eternity. 

Ruf’ mich in Sturm und Nacht
Empor, dich zu geleiten
Auf wilder Lebensjagd
Durch alle Ewigkeiten.

What we hope for in death also says something about what we want from life. 

Some dream of a heaven that promises a freedom from exertion, conflict and challenge. The reward they seek for a lifetime of struggle and suffering is an eternity of relaxation and recreation — or “oneness” with divinity. They have oriented themselves to “struggle to blank,” and they want to “rest in peace.” 

Perhaps some men feel most alive at a party or on vacation. Poolside with a margarita in hand. And while I’ll admit that sounds very nice, especially as I sit here watching the snow creep down from higher elevations, those aren’t the moments that define a man’s life. When I look back at the moments I am proud of, they are moments of creation or competition — moments of struggle and overcoming. Instants of inspiration and flow. 

It makes sense that ambitious and adventurous men who thrive on challenge and strife would dream not of eternal rest, but of an eternal ride. Of an endless adventure, engaged forever in the hunt or the fight. I have known many men like this, and in the absence of some immanent trial, they self-destruct. They don’t know what to do with themselves. Men of action need a purpose, an objective, some goal toward which they can direct their virile exuberance. 

Regarding the dead, I’ve heard men say, “rest in power.” 

Why wish them the torment of rest at all? Why not wish them a never-ending ride? 

Why not wish them, in death, the joy that they sought in life?

Why not say, “RIDE IN POWER?”

The act of riding is the most dynamic expression of the masculine principle. To ride is to seize some wild, chaotic thing and rein it in, to control it and impose your own will upon it with the loose snap of confidence and authority.

Imagine the audacious moment of the primal ride, when man first leapt on a horse and found he was able to give it direction and command that mass of muscle and breakneck speed. Imagine this moment repeated thousands of years later when men sat in the first automobiles fueled by fire, and again when they shot themselves into the sky, and again when they exploded themselves into space with the power of the sun.

This is the magic of the ride — that holy shit moment of daring and total engagement and total investment. It’s there in the hunt and the chase, it’s there in the battle, it’s there in the scrambling fight. This is the aggressive magic of men who train wolves and conquer women.

And, if I may quibble with Conan (from a wise distance), perhaps this is, truly, what is best in a man’s life. The ride.

This atavistic apparition, this dream of the wild dead hunting and fighting their way through the afterlife is a reminder to the living of what living is.

You can rest in peace if you want to, but there is more. Men become what they are when they venture out into uncertainty and assert themselves. That is how we have always been initiated — by learning to master and command chaos, in the world outside, in others, and in ourselves.

To initiate and continue this eternal becoming, to keep the wheel spinning, we must continue to seek out new challenges, new quests and quarries, and commit to that hunt. Commit to that fight.

COMMIT TO THE RIDE

Durch alle Ewigkeiten

“Wilde Jagd” – by Arthur Fitger

Wilde JagdWild Hunt
Es pfeift im Hagedorn,
Laut ächzt es in den Föhren,
Da läßt sein schmetternd Horn
Der wilde Jäger hören.

Hoch droben durch die Schlucht
Der sturmzerriss’nen Wolke
Jauchzt er in wilder Flucht
Vorbei mit seinem Volke.

Er schwingt den Eschenschaft
In erzgewalt’gen Händen,
Und Lebensüberkraft
Flammt in des Auges Bränden.

“Der du verschmäht die Rast
Des Himmels und des Grabes,
Der du begehrt die Last
Des ew’gen Wanderstabes,

Ruf’ mich in Sturm und Nacht
Empor, dich zu geleiten
Auf wilder Lebensjagd
Durch alle Ewigkeiten.

Die Seel’ erstickt in mir,
Denk’ ich der Gruft, der engen,
Und to bend möcht’ ich schier
Des Todes Fesseln sprengen.

Endlose Lebenslust,
Nein! du sollst nicht verrauchen,
Nicht elend in den Wust
Des Staubes untertauchen.

Wenn über meiner Gruft
Die Frühling
swinde pfeifen,
Wenn wirbelnd in der Luft
Die falben Blätter schweifen;

Dann bannt auch mich nicht mehr
Der dumpfe Totenhügel,
Dann jag’ auch ich daher
Auf freiem Sturmesflügel.”

It whistles in the hawthorn
Loudly it creaks in the pines
There his chilling horn
The wild hunter let hear

High above through the canyon
The storm-torn cloud
Exult he in wild escape
Over with his folk

He swings the ash tree shaft
In ore like/powered hands
And strength that goes beyond life’spower
In his eyes burning fires

“Thou who refuses to rest
In heaven or grave
Thou who crave the burden
Of the eternal wanderstick

Call upon me in storm and night
Up to give you retinue
On the wild hunt of our life
Through all eternity

The soul is suffocating in me
When I think of the so tight grave
And in fury I want
To burst the fetters of death

Endless lust of life
NO! You shall not vanish like smoke in the wind
Not miserable into the heap
Of dust drowning

When over my crypt
The winds of spring whistle
When twirling in the air
Pale leaves fly

Then I wont be captivated
By the dull hill of the death
Then I hunt around
On the free wings of the storm.
  Arthur Fitger . 1840 – 1909Translation: V. from Wölfe Nordland
Night sky over Waldgang. Jack Donovan. 2019.
Read more
, ,

Interview: 9 Questions for Edred Thorsson

 

 

If you are using the runes or practicing any form of Germanic paganism in the United States right now, you can thank Edred Thorsson — and you should. Writing under that name or his birth name, Stephen Flowers, he’s been advancing the light of what he sometimes refers to as “The Northern Dawn” since the 1970s. He’s studied and has in many cases translated and republished the works of the early 20th Century runologists that others draw from. He founded The Rune-Gild in 1980 to promote the study of the runes and has formed, served or advised several significant American pagan organizations. If you’ve said a sumbel or cast a rune or performed any kind of heathen rite, its form and content were probably influenced in some direct or indirect way by Thorsson. 

Here are a few of his books that I’d recommend to anyone interested in Germanic paganism or runology:

The Northern Dawn – A History of the Reawakening of the Germanic Spirit

History of the Rune-Gild – The Reawakening of the Gild 1980—2018

The Nine Doors of Midgard

Futhark – A Handbook of Rune Magic

Runelore: The Magic, History, and Hidden Codes of the Runes

ALU, An Advanced Guide to Operative Runology

Rune Might  – The Secret Practices of the German Rune Magicians

The Secret of the Runes by Guido von List (as translator and editor)

Thorsson’s Futhark and Runelore were two of the first books I ever read about runes. I was headed to Texas on business, and I wanted to meet “the man.” After reaching out to him through a mutual friend, I booked a table to meet him for lunch at Le Politique, a brightly-lit brasserie in downtown Austin. 

I checked in with the hostess and ordered myself a Negroni. Then I noticed a white-haired man outside on the street. He was wearing a wool alpine jacket.

“Ah…that’s the guy.” 

I went out to introduce myself. 

It immediately became clear that Edred isn’t another dour occultist who relies on spooky posturing and an empty panne velvet bag full of “hidden secrets.” He’s energetic — animated by a sense of purpose. He’s full of ideas and information — so much information — but he’s also extremely modest. I deferred to him, calling him a scholar and describing myself as a mere “popularizer,” but Edred — who does have a PhD in Medieval Studies — insisted that he was a popularizer, too. I got the sense that he’s a man who found something that he’s passionate about, and he wants to share it with anyone who has eyes and ears for it. But he also wants to make sure they get it right. 

We talked through lunch and into the beginning of the dinner shift about the business of writing, the runes, ritual, sacrifice, and the trials associated with organizing people. We talked about Jung and Nietzsche and Eliade. His observations and advice were sharp and extremely insightful. He’s been there and done a lot, but seems unexpectedly open-minded — still “seeking the mysteries.” 

I enjoyed our informal conversation too much to take notes, so the following interview was conducted via email after the fact, riffing on of some of the topics we discussed over lunch. 

JD: Your life seems to have been guided by a very clear sense of purpose, and you’ve been an extremely influential figure in a lot of people’s lives. What are some of the accomplishments that you are most proud of, and what qualities did you cultivate in yourself that helped you achieve them? 

ET: My initiatory life was begun with the hearing of the word RUNA in the summer of 1974. It would be a misunderstanding of the whole process to believe that the subsequent journey was one that was “planned” — the whole process has been rather multi-dimensional. There has been a clear sense of moving forward and seeking the goals of learning to understand the mysteries of the Germanic (and Indo-European) cultural and intellectual realm, to facilitate the (re-)development of the values of our ancestral past in the modern world and in so doing make the world a better and more vigorous place. But as to the question of the things which I have consciously cultivated in myself to achieve these goals they are these: love of learning and curiosity about the next discovery, discipline necessary to learn the hard things (e.g. learning key languages, mastering the historical and philosophical contexts for all information to have a matrix of meaning, development of a pattern of work which facilitates the production vision and the will to see the envisioned products come to fruition). Most of these things were greatly aided in my development by the years-long experience in graduate school and the instilling in me an intellectual work-ethic by my professor, Edgar Polomé. Accomplishments of which I am proud are the body of written work which I have produced, the establishment of the Rune-Gild and the earning of a Ph.D. from a major university. These are all the results of inner tools developed on an esoteric level, and are all keyed to an unwavering dedication to the imperative: reyn til rúna (“seek the mysteries”).

JD: 1974. That’s the year I was born. “Seek the mysteries” is a truly Odinic motto. Some people are naturally curious and inventive. So many more want step-by-step instructions for everything. Anything worth doing probably involves hard work and some process of personal discovery — some kind of “gnosis.”

I read your History of the Rune Gild (Arcana Europa 2019). It’s a real page-turner. One comment struck me in particular. We discussed it briefly in Austin. You wrote:

“During that year I continued to be involved with the theories and practices of magic(k) and to explore an eclectic path generally of my own making. I couldn’t give much credence to the Wiccan form of “magic” at this point because it emphasized—in accordance with its essentially religious worldview—a harmonizing of the will of the individual with the patterns of nature. I had made the essentially magical and individualistic philosophy I had experienced earlier too much a part of myself to find this very attractive.”

This seems to me a major point of philosophical difference between many approaches, religions and ideologies. Can you elaborate on what you meant by this?

ET: Among the Wiccan neo-pagans I was acquainted with the early 1970s in Austin — and this was a time when the coven I was around was rife with rumors that the might be another coven in the area! — the attitude seemed to be that one was more “advanced” measured by the degree to which one was fully in harmony with the “cycles of nature.” These cycles determined one’s mood, success and so on. At first that just seemed to strike me wrong. I had been an enthusiast for the philosophy of Anton LaVey before this, and liked to say that when I thought of “nature” I thought of a thunderbolt, not a “daisy.” I dubbed the Wiccans “daisy sniffers” in my private jargon. I would have had to admit that at that time I did not know why this was so, I did consider the idea that the pagans of old were in some sense nature worshippers to be true. It would first be under the guidance of Professor Edgar Polomé that I would learn that, as he put it one day: “The Germanic peoples were not nature worshippers.” This was not just a statement, it was the conclusion to a long set of substantiated observations about Germanic (and by extension Indo-European) attitudes toward the mind, culture and the place of these categories within nature. The mind of man not only allows, but demands that humans act in ways contrary to nature, to transcend it, not “harmonize” with it (i.e. be its thrall). We learn from nature, and we learn when and where to act in accordance with natural conditions in order to succeed on a tactical level, but our overall strategy is one that aims for freedom and independence from naturally imposed limitations. The oldest myth in regard to this is reflected in Odin’s observation of the “natural world” into which he was born, governed by Ymir, and his rejection of it. He overthrew that order, sacrificed Ymir and remade the “natural” cosmos in the form of a rational and beautiful, mind-crafted replacement— in world in which we now live.  

JD: Modern Germanic pagans have traditionally sought out “natural” environments in which to practice and perform ritual, perhaps influenced by these lines from Tacitus:

“The Germans, however, do not consider it consistent with the grandeur of celestial beings to confine the gods within walls, or to liken them to the form of any human countenance. They consecrate woods and groves, and they apply the names of deities to the abstraction which they see only in spiritual worship.”

However, later sources also describe lavish temples such as the Hof at Gamla Uppsala. 

There’s something distinctly primal about holding ritual out under the trees and the open sky around a roaring fire. I was able to purchase land to build my sacred space, Waldgang, but to get some privacy and a few acres at a reasonable price, I had to move several hours away from any urban hub. It will become increasingly difficult for pagans to organize and finance these spaces as the world gets more crowded, as cities sprawl out and real estate becomes less affordable. 

These concepts are eternal and elemental. As men continue to “transcend nature” can you imagine Germanic pagans practicing in urban spaces — or for that matter, even in space? How would you incorporate elements of this ancient practice into completely man-made spaces?

ET: The reason why natural environments, and often remote and secluded environments were seen as suitable for sacred activities are many. One they are separate from ordinary life and far away for the mundane activities of normal activities. This idea of being set apart is fundamental to the conception of the sacred, which means something separated from the ordinary. Natural settings were often chosen because of their special characteristics, a waterfall, a deep grove, a special rock formation, etc. all of which again set the place apart from the ordinary. It is in these environments that the ancients believed the holy was made manifest. Also, because festivals involving the whole tribe may require more space than could normally be accommodated in a hall or building (although extremely huge foundations of such buildings have been found in Scandinavia). The temples, such as the one mentioned at Uppsala was actually quite small and probably served as an inner sanctum for a larger holy complex in the area. All that being said, I do not see any prohibition against using elaborate temples or shrines. Religion and cult is constantly evolving. The important thing is that the sacred space is a place set apart and made special for the activities of the sacred and holy. The same observation that was made by Tacitus was also made by the Greeks and Romans about the Persians, who certainly built elaborate buildings, but whose most sacred spaces remained remote and natural regions. Conversely, the most every-day sacred space is most often just a corner of the house for a small household shrine. The holy is found in the extraordinary, and in the everyday. 

JD: You’re working on a book about re-tribalization. To begin, what does the word “tribe” mean to you? It’s become a popular buzzword for marketers, and everyone with an email list or a social media group seems to believe they have a “tribe.” What differentiates a legitimate tribe from something like that in your mind? 

ET: Indeed, the word “tribe” is often misused, or used in a way that detracts from the original scope and power of the institution being referred to by the word. Longing for a sense of tribe is an admirable impulse and a positive one. But we should not be satisfied with half-measures when it comes to this topic. The main confusion comes in between the concepts the actual tribe (German: Stamm) and a band or company (German: Männerbund). These are the two main alternative ways of organizing, and they often work together and complement each other. A band is entered into by individuals on a voluntary basis and each band (company, order, guild, etc.) has a specific purpose or craft which it pursues. A tribe is generally entered into by families and has as its purpose the protection and promotion of the interests of the members of that tribe. Traditionally one would be born into his tribe. Other ways of entering a tribe are by marriage, adoption or blood-brotherhood. In today’s jargon bands are often called tribes. This leaves the actual idea of the tribe out in the cold. A tribe would have to be made up of people who live close to one another, who interact on a very regular basis and who are bound to help and render aid to other tribe members. Tribes cannot exist on the Internet or by mail-order. This tribal organization can and will make the lives of every individual within it richer and happier. For millennia, we were organized as tribes, only recently, with the advent of the nation state has this mode of life been forgotten. This is one of the deep roots of or discontent as a people. Re-tribalization is the subject of my new book Re-Tribalize Now!, which is a guidebook to the idea.  Re-tribalization is the best form of radical revolt against the Modern World. In is a non-violent form of rebellion, which is the only kind that is likely to succeed. If the Modern World is all about atomizing the individual, separating him from his cultural context in order to be able to manipulate him at will by marketers/politicians, then re-tribalization, by restoring the individual to his cultural roots and context in a profoundly structural way will blunt the detrimental effects of Modernization. 

JD: When we were discussing the concept of tribe over lunch, you said that ideally, being part of a tribe should make life easier and better for the people in it — not harder. Can you elaborate on what you mean by that? 

ET: Often “tribal” life might be dominated by autocratic leaders or ideologies which make hard demands on the mind and conscience of individuals. “Tribes” can become cults and then they are hard to live in for normal, healthy people. Tribe members are seen to exist to serve the “cause” or the leadership. This can describe a cult, or a fanatic political cause such as blossomed in the twentieth century. This is totally contrary to the true spirit of the tribe. A tribe should exist for the health, well-being and happiness of its tribal members. Not many should want to be part of something that makes huge demands on their freedom and productivity in order to serve some ideology. A healthy tribal existence provides things that money cannot buy: identity, solidarity and mutual loyalty. Most of the difficulties or hardships of modern life are caused by our lack of tribal life and our resultant dependence on the state— a state which increasingly does not have out best interests at heart. Not only would tribal life make the incidental difficulties easier (the car broke down, Joe will fix it) but also the great problems— alienation, isolation and loss of identity. Successful tribalism will be introduced to individuals and families gradually and in the process people will learn that life gets better and better the more they focus on their immediate environments and less on the artificial and deceptive worlds of devices and cable news.

JD: I’ve watched the beginnings of tribal culture form, and it can happen quickly — almost too quickly. Once you’ve defined a perimeter of inclusion and exclusion,  people start reading the same books and sharing the same ideas and developing a framework for reality — and a humor, it often starts with humor —  distinctive enough to alienate outsiders. 

However, maintaining a culture over the long term seems to historically require some kind of isolation. This isolation is virtually impossible to create and maintain in the interconnected modern world without some kind of authoritarian structure. Gangs are collectively complicit in criminal acts, so they can enforce boundaries through extortion and threats of violence. Extreme religious groups and male honor groups rely on threats of “shunning” to maintain boundaries and keep people invested. How do you think the tribes that you are advocating will interact successfully with the outside world, while maintaining boundaries and a sense of cultural cohesiveness? 

ET: The isolation factor you speak about is real and it is an effective aspect of forging group cohesion. Many groups do it by having beliefs that separate them from others, or a language which does so. In this day and age, such isolation has to be effected in a more subtle way. Isolation cannot be forced along. Tribes have to self-isolate because it is more practical, effective and fun to be isolated among members of one’s group than it is to mix with outsiders. That is the great challenge of the successful neo-tribalism of the future. One of the main tools in this is the implementation of what I call the Proximity Principle. Successful tribes of the future will be entirely local operations with people in the tribe living within thirty to forty miles of all other members, and mostly within a much closer proximity. If recruiting efforts are undertaken exclusively within this range, and the temptation of forming a “tribe” on Facebook or on the Internet is strictly avoided, then the social cohesion necessary for solidarity and identity to build to the level that such “self-isolation” will take place naturally and beneficially. 

JD: You’ve seen a lot of groups form and disband over the years, and I’m sure you’ve witnessed your share of bad characters and organizational drama. What qualities do you think people should look for in members of a group or tribe? What qualities should they be wary of? 

ET: Early on in the Asatru movement there were people who entered from nowhere and immediately started trying to “radicalize” the group. These were usually (but not always) suspected of being provocateurs or agents for the FBI or something. But less dramatically, people who enter the group and immediately start to try to change it should be suspect, and can in no way be good for the group. If they don’t like it, they should go elsewhere. In the runic world, I have sometimes been confronted by people who on the one hand are anxious to be recognized within the Rune-Gild, yet at the same time tell me that they have higher and more authentic rune-knowledge than I have to teach. I have to tell such individuals that they therefore do not need the Gild and they should teach their undefiled wisdom elsewhere. Usually that is the last I or anyone else ever hears of them. Generally, “disgruntled followers” always think they can do things better. If they do split off, they generally fail. When one is part of a crew on a functioning ship one cannot see all of the complexities the captain sees. Then if one finds one’s self as the captain of one’s own crew all of a sudden then the fact that there are a lot of missing pieces becomes obvious— and the new captain has no idea how to acquire these pieces. Exceptions to this split-off rule do exist. Sometimes the founders of movements have a good basic idea, but really are missing pieces of the vision that a later reformer can supply and the split-off is superior to the original. The Odinic universe, created after the destruction of the universe of Ymir, is, after all such a radical reformation of the status quo. 

JD: Along the same lines, what qualities should people look for in a leader? And what qualities should be red flags? 

ET: Some leaders seem to be ordained by the gods. They have charisma and knowledge and make their own way in the world of organizations. These are few and far between. Looking at the question from the perspective of a seeker leaders are worthy who are qualified in a world or worlds beyond their organization. Starting a group and naming yourself the grand poohbah of it is no great accomplishment. Look for leaders to be tested and certified as worthy by other parts of the world. Also, is that leader willing to relinquish power to others when appropriate or necessary. Is what is being taught or conveyed in the group 1) beneficial to life and happiness, 2) in accord with what history and tradition teaches? If so, then the leader and the group may be solid. Groups and leaders who are self-ordained, with no outside corroboration and which teaches previously unheard of ideas is probably bogus. But here as elsewhere in life, there are always exceptions. 

JD: In your introduction to The Northern Dawn, you wrote about the tendency of Westerners to seek “true” wisdom from the East — “ex oriente lux.” It’s a bourgeois cliche that’s perhaps never been more pervasive. When someone wants to “get deep” or “get spiritual” they look to India or Tibet or Japan. It’s safely exotic. Obviously they are bored with the Christian approach they grew up with, but Western culture runs so much deeper than that. There is something to be gained from most traditions and practices — some kernel of wisdom — but I can’t shake the perception that so many Eastern schools lean toward the erasure of the individual and the importance of great deeds and material accomplishments. There’s something different about the Western approach. Do you see differences between Eastern and Western approaches to life? What will men find when they look to the North, that they’ll find less of in the East?

ET: I really do not see this as an originally intrinsic East/West division. It seems to have had its origins in the East round 500 BCE with the philosophy of Buddhism which began to see the world as a place filled with suffering (Sanskrit duhkha) and that the whole point of life is to annihilate the self or ego (seen as an illusion) to avoid rebirth in this world of suffering. This is a classic case of the world-denying impulse in religion and philosophy. The Indo-European philosophy is originally a world-affirming one. This was true in Vedic India, Iran as well as among all pre-Christian, indigenous European cultures. The world was seen as a good place, and cultic practices were employed to ensure the continuation of this goodness. Christianity is itself a world-denying impulse, but it is philosophically vague in this regard. The Northward view is affirming of the world, of the individual and of the culture of the tribe or society. Our strategic problem at this point is our widespread and increasing loss of collective identity and knowledge concerning our history and mythology. We have to develop our philosophies, produce material and produce teachers of the philosophy, then educate the population with all forms of media. I have forthcoming books called Our Indo-European Heritageand Our Germanic Heritage which I see as part of this effort. The sad thing is that this self-obliteration aim of Eastern religions is coming into the West at a time when many in the West are consciously or unconsciously anxious to commit cultural suicide. This self-annihilation of the individual perfectly mirrors their collective self-hating urge to obliterate their own culture, ethnos and history. There is a lot to do and new forms of media will be the vehicle for the next phase.

For a deeper look inside the mind of a modern rune master…

 

 

[/vc_column_text][/vc_column][/vc_row][vc_row][vc_column width=”1/4″][vc_single_image image=”639″ img_size=”medium” alignment=”center” onclick=”custom_link” link=”https://amzn.to/2m0iupa”][/vc_column][vc_column width=”3/4″][vc_column_text]

Would You Yet Know More?

The Rûna Interviews with Edred Thorsson – Edited By Ian Read and Michael Moynihan

from Arcana Europa / Gilded Books, 86 pages, ISBN 9781074360023

 

Read more