#and then was later changed to include Christian symbolism along with the old norse ones

[sabraeal]

The Vagrant's Season, Part 2

[Read on AO3]

Written for @onedivinemisfit for her birthday! This is part of Annie's Shapeshifter AU; a prequel to this piece, filling in the weeks from when Obi arrived in The Valley to the start of mating season. There are a half dozen version of the song I adapt for Shirayuki in this, but I referred to two specific ones to cobble together this one: Marianne Lihannah's and Pernille Anker's. There is also one line from this folk song in the last scene!

“You’re a shy little one, aren’t you?” The vixen doesn’t stoop or sing-song, not like how the menfolk would when they saw him like this, just a shadow and a snout hidden amongst their shrubbery. A good thing too; if she shrilled the way the goodwives would, calling him a sweet pup and lille vennen and gutten min, he’d have skittered away faster than mice in a pantry.

Instead her voice is soft, riding the same rise and lull as her song, and her hands never pause in their picking. A practiced motion— reach, pinch, twist; reach, pinch, twist— that never falters, even when she slants him her curious glance. “I mean you no harm. There’s more than enough for the both of us here, if we only take for the needing.”

Ah, now that stings him, just a little. He’d seen her sorting out her tubers and berries that first time, plucking the bounty he’d meant to have all to himself until spring, and well— he’d scampered off, sure, half-scared of even a wilder’s shadow, but he’d come back too. Gave himself two good hands to pillage with and glutted himself on what she’d left behind, sure he’d find some other hole to weather out the last of winter.

Even with no stars yet in the sky he knew the footfalls that would take him toward Yuris, toward Tanbar, toward any place but that little glade and the vixen whose scent lingered on every leaf. And yet honey and bitter greens never quite left his nose, turning his paws in circles, spiraling him back to this very clearing, over and over. Spirit-blind he may be, but let it never be said Obi couldn't take a hint from one, when it was given.

“It’s warmer here in the sun.” Her tone is conversational rather than cajoling, and Obi’s tempted to take the invitation. Spread out his shorter legs, cramped from where he’s been camped in the bushes, waiting for her to finish her picking and sorting. Maybe even see if she might feed him from her hands, the way the young girls did at the village outskirts, too young to know the difference between a fox and a pup. “I know fur so fine as yours must keep you warm even in the snows, but it’s quite nice to have the light on you.”

She breathes in, misting the air with her exhale. “You can almost believe it’s spring.”

It will come soon enough; he smells it on the air even now, the promise of plenty enough to make his belly tremble. A few more weeks and he could eat his fill, strengthen up for whatever journey still laid ahead. Nice as it might be to survive on the outskirts of the Valley, growing fat on their game and forage, that sour scent in the north will mosey its way down here sometime this summer. Unpleasant as that dog smells, he’ll be needing to deal with the Keeper, trade with the other wilder in his pack. Maybe even mate, if he could find a vixen to stand him.

This vixen sits back on her heels, sigh as sweet as her scent wafting up from her lips. “Well, that’s that then. Guess we won’t meet today, little one.”

Toes curl beneath her, and with the sort of limber grace village girls lacked but wilder women possessed in spades, she bounces up to her feet, basket teetering on her hip like a smile does on her lips. “Maybe next time, then. Be a pity for neighbors not to get along with each other.”

When he steps out of the brush, it’s on two legs, one hand scratching at the nape of his neck.

“Get along,” he mutters, shoving a berry into his mouth. It breaks sour over his tongue. “See how long that lasts.”

*

There’s no convenient cave to make his camp, no abandoned lean-to left by a less wary vagrant passing through to warmer climes, but Obi does find a hollow not far from the vixen’s glade. An old yew, wider than two of him together could wrap around, beginning to rot from the inside. The sort of thing the volva would have clucked their collective tongues over, proclaiming that its spirit was sick and frail, a terrible portents for the future of their community.

But for him it’s only a tight squeeze on two legs and a cozy hideaway on four. Keeps him dry at least, and warm when the winds blow, though even as he drifts asleep, he hears the wood creaking like their voices, stay too long as a little one and you’ll be wild in truth.

It becomes habit to watch the vixen about her business; mostly small, letting his dark fur hide him among the shadows even as she tries to call him out from cover, her sweet smile more tempting than even the berries she offers. As it warms he sheds that skin more often, letting his legs stretch until he smells herbs on the wind and hears the first strains of her honeyed songs.

It’s inevitable that at some point, he forgets.

*

The dawn breaks warm that morning; the first tease of true spring before the spirits unfurl their sleeping tendrils and wake in truth. At least, so the volva say; Obi’s never seen a lick of them as long as he’s lived. Blind, they called him, but if it’s the price he pays to walk comfortably among the townsfolk each winter, he’ll pay it gladly.

There’s a tree at the edge of the vixen’s glade, an old birch so piebald it’s half shadow itself, its spiny little leaves coming in strong with the first hint of winter’s breaking. They don’t grow like this near the menfolk— there it’s straight little stands of bone-white trunks, but here, it’s a gnarled, knotted mess of a grandmother, so thick and bent from reaching out toward the light the glade promises that a body could get lost trying to find their way through its branches.

He sprawls his across one so thick it could be its own tree, legs dangling as wild as tangled ivy. Dappled in the sun’s light, it’s a cozy enough spot to let his blood warm up to the promise of the day. His head tips back, eyes fluttering closed, and ah, if he lets his mind drift enough, he can fool himself into thinking the volva are shuffling after him still, looking for that lazy boy, more scent than sense—

“The kit is placed in her cradle, sometimes crying, sometimes laughing.” Breath tumbles out of him in a snort, rousing him in shorter order than the vixen’s song, so close each word comes as a caress instead of a whisper on the wind. “Her mother cares for her, trouble, trouble, trouble.”

Already he reaches for his smaller body, eager to put fur over flesh and scamper into cover, but—

“Sleep now, sleep now” —copper flickers over bush tops, like a bullfinch buzzing over the brush— “in the arms of the mother tree, keep watch, o spirits, and hold this kit safe.”

For as many times as he has seen her, it’s always been with a little one’s eyes, limited to the muted grays and dunny browns they can create. Enough to get the idea of most wilders on whom he’s let his gaze linger, but this vixen— her hair alone is red and gold together, an autumn forest ablaze and yet tame beneath her hands. And when she lets her eyes skim over the brushline, looking for him…

Green. The same as the leaves that flutter between them, hiding him from sight. He hunkers down, belly to branch, and bides his time.

*

The vixen lingers longer as the weather warms, shedding her heavy cloak before she settles in to work, spreading it beneath her knees. There’s more for her to do now; with the snow near half melted, more greens unfurl between her visits, and the thin stopgap of winter berries turning into a bounty of sweet spring fruit. She sorts them as she works, each kind going into their own cloth before she rolls them up and tucks them into her basket, humming with satisfaction.

Most days he keeps her company as a little one; it delights her to coax him out step by step, creeping closer and closer to sharing sunlight. But more and more often, he lingers, watching her with wilder eyes as she goes about her business. Wonders, sometimes, if her pelt is just as bright as her hair when she trots about in her smaller form, if the gold would shine the way it does in the morning sun.

When she settles herself today— I shall give to my sister my seven gold rings, all under the linden so green— it’s with two baskets, one set in front and the other just behind. No difference between them that Obi can see, no reason one berry goes in one and not the either, just one plump little fruit, one after the other. Each one leaves juice smeared across her fingertips, so ripe his mouth salivates just thinking of how they’ll taste on his tongue, of how they’ll burst beneath his teeth.

“You know,” she calls out, her mouth hooked in the wryest of her smiles. “It’s polite to announce yourself if you’re going to linger in a vixen's territory. Especially a dog like yourself.”

Obi blinks between his branches, glancing from left to right, but there’s no dog for her to be talking to, not unless—

He glances down, right to where she stands, staring square at him through the branches. “You might introduce yourself at least. Now that I know you haven’t gone wild.”

His arms fold and his chin tilts, the way that makes most dogs shy from his company, let alone the wiser vixens. “I’m not the sort a vixen like you would want to know.”

Her jaw sets, even as that smiles pulls sweeter. “I think that’s up to me, isn’t it?”

Obi has to admit, she has a point there.

“This is my territory you’ve been lingering in, after all.” Her shrug is a soft bounce of her shoulders, but her scent presses heavily around him. Her territory. Unmated female she may be, but he is an unmated male, living on her sufferance. “I should know who I have the pleasure of sharing my patch with.”

“No point,” he sniffs, tilting his chin higher. “I’m just passing through.”

“For three weeks?” Her mouth twitches, not from fear. “I think that’s a little more than passing through.”

Ah, he hadn’t realized she’d be counting. “Just until there’s forage elsewhere.”

By the cock of her hip, he knows his excuse is as thin as tissue, ready to be torn under her able paws. “A name might be nice. I can’t just call you vagrant this whole time.”

“I have lots of names.” One for each year he’s wintered over among the menfolk. But they’ve always slipped off him like his fur does his skin, never sticking the whole season. Eirik had been the one he gave Goody, a smile on his lips, but she shook her head the way the menfolk always do, as if they already knew it doesn’t fit. “Which one do you want?”

The smile he gives her is all teeth, but she doesn’t flinch like she’s supposed to. No, she just furrows that brow at him, concerned. “The one you want to give me.”

His shoulder burns even beneath his hand. “I already said I wouldn’t be around long.”

“Fine, Vagrant it is then,” the vixen sighs, tucking her plants against her waist, tying them to the space under her belt. “I hope you have a nice day, Vagrant.”

It’s not until she’s gone that he realizes she left one of her baskets behind, but when he goes to call out—

Well, it seems he never got a name either.

[metalheadsforblacklivesmatter]

To clarify this isn't a "Christmas is actually Yule" post. I'm sure Christians did originally believe that Jesus was born on Christmas. This post is specifically about Christians that believe if you take all of the Christian stuff out of Christmas, you get a secular holiday. And Christians telling non-Christians (usually Jewish and Muslim people) that they should celebrate Christmas because "it's a secular holiday".

One argument in your source claims that vikings weren't Germanic people. The Norse are descendants of the Germanic people.

Yule, festival observed historically by Germanic peoples and in modern times primarily by Neo-Pagans, coinciding with the winter solstice (December 21–22 in the Northern Hemisphere; June 20–21 in the Southern Hemisphere). The pre-Christian festival originated in Scandinavia and was later subsumed, along with other pagan celebrations, into the Christian holiday of Christmas. Some modern celebrations of Yule attempt to re-create ancient traditions, while others have been adapted or reimagined to suit contemporary personal and religious practices.

Yule / yoōl/

• n. archaic term for Christmas.

ORIGIN: Old English gēol(a) ‘Christmas Day’; compare with Old Norse jól, originally applied to a heathen festival lasting twelve days, later to Christmas.

The modern Christmas tree was likely born in the 8th century, when St. Boniface was converting the Germanic tribes. The tribes worshipped oak trees, decorating them for the winter solstice. St. Boniface cut down an enormous oak tree, that was central to the worship of a particular tribe, but a fir tree grew in its place. The evergreen was offered as a symbol of Christianity, which the newly converted Germans began decorating for Christmas.

In Celtic tradition, trees were considered sacred because they were the homes of deities and spirits. At Yule, a tree was decorated outdoors in honor of the birth of the sun god and gifts were offered. As Grimassi notes, “an evergreen tree was selected because it symbolized the power of life to survive the seasons of the year” (32).

Several of the traditions today strongly associated with Christmas have a very long history indeed, even pre-dating the Christmas celebration itself. Early Christianity sought to distance itself from pagan practices and so later Roman emperors closed down ancient sacred sites, prohibited rituals, and ended sporting games that had once honoured pagan gods. However, changing the habits of ordinary people was a different matter. The pagan festival of Saturnalia had been particularly popular, and its traditions that had endured for a millennium were, in many cases, simply transferred to the new festival of Christmas.

-fae

Though I am very amused at the idea of Christians trying to force non-Christians to celebrate Yule and leave milk and cookies out as offerings to Odin on Yule.

"Celebrate Christmas with us. If you take all the Christian imagery out, it's not a religious holiday." You trying to convert people to paganism?

And the milk and cookies are literally an offering to Santa (whether your branch of paganism believes Santa is Odin or not, it's still literally a pagan offering).

(I don't condone forcing non-pagans to celebrate Yule. I just find the irony of Christians trying to force people to celebrate a pagan holiday funny.)

-fae

[otterskin]

The Devil in The Window

Apologies for low image quality. This is a repost with some reworking for an earlier, longer breakdown I did of the Loki trailer. Now that episode 1 is out - (YAY I WAS RIGHT, TAKE THAT MEPHISTO FANS! But also I do look forward to his eventual appearance, you think I don’t also have a huge interest in satanic mythology and the devil’s appearances in literature? Because I certainly do.) - I think it’s a good time to review.

Anyway, here’s a new shot of the window, apologies for using the older ones I drew on before from hereafter though. They updated the design for the episode, so some details have changed - however, I think that the old one had some details that were actually better to demonstrate with, the biggest being the change to the chest shape. Still, I think the intent remains, and I suppose it’s all to the good I used the design that shows it clearer.

So, Norse Mythology. It’s been Christiannized. You can thank Snorri Sturluson for that, but you can google all about him later. Let’s just say that he made many Norse figures into equivalents for Christian ones. Baldur is Jesus, pure and a sacrificial lamb who dies for a greater good. And the devil is...Loki. Something the Marvel comics and the MCU have continued.

Here we have a devil, dressed in green and with a distinct shape on his chest:

Hmmm...wait...I know that weird horny shape...(yes they changed this design in the episode, but it still has this basic shape, just with another layer of gold above it.)

Ah. I’d say that cinches it. This is meant to be Loki. If you look at the devil’s hair, it also resembles Loki’s, being shoulder-length and kinda curly.

So, what’s devil-Loki doing? Laying an egg? Trying out a foot massager? For a second I thought it was a moon, but we see the moon over his left shoulder, amongst the stars. Which means this is - probably the Earth.

...Dammit; I live there.

So Earth is barren and being devoured by flames, likely caused by this Loki sitting atop of it (in a throne, no less). Aw gee, things look pretty bad, don’t they?

But wait - what’s that? Under the Earth (and, possibly, under the earth)?

It’s a plant. A shoot, to be exact.

Back to Ragnarok for a second. Ragnarok isn’t the apocalypse (something we see a lot of in this trailer - all of it seems to be exploring the end of days). Ragnarok is the fire meant to wipe out the old and fertilize the ground for the new. And after the gods have died, what happens? Well, Baldur emerges from Hel, one of the only surviving gods (hmm, seems him dying worked out, didn’t it?). He’s joined by Líf and Lífþrasir, who are the new first man and woman, who’s names mean ‘Life’ and who are pictured, usually, with plants and new life. It is they who are tasked who growing a new Yggdrasil after the destruction of the old. The previous first man and woman are Ask and Embla, meaning Ash Tree and Vine/Elm tree, so there’s a theme there.

So a new sprout, possibly a tree, growing out of the destruction of the old.

This fits with Loki’s role as understood in mythology. He checks the arrogance of the gods, including when they tried to achieve immortality (sorry, Baldur, nothing personal), and that keeps the gods at their best. After Loki is imprisoned, the gods become weak, unhelpful and foolish, and Yggdrasil starts to rot. Eventually Loki escapes and returns along with Surtur (who also resembles this figure) to burn it all to the ground. This is also referenced in Thor:Ragnarok, with Loki releasing Surtur in the Vault, a place of thematic importance to Loki and one that represents the hidden secrets and sins of Asgard). You could say Ragnarok continued into Infinity War, where Loki played an important part in aiding Thanos’ destruction, giving up the stone to protect his brother and essentially dooming the rest of the universe - but also ultimately leading to its salvation, even if, like Myth Loki, he wasn’t around to see it.

So, we see the Variant literally start a fire in the trailer -

- in fact, this whole trailer is awash in flame -

It’s fire, fire everywhere and Variant Loki’s setting them!

Damn, even our ‘hero’ Loki is burning stuff down! Does this mean that Loki is doomed, always meant to be an avatar of death and toasty destruction?

Well...let’s go back to that stained glass. Hmmm...wait...I know that weird horny shape...

And there’s something else...the bottom of the Earth is being lit up, and not by fire. Light appears to be coming off this little plant.

What colour is this plant again? That’s right, green. Green is the colour of new life and growth and change and...hang on, I’ve heard that before, too..

.

Hang on hang on HANG ON... let me have a look at the shape again.

That’s...a letter. An L? For Loki? Like in the title sequence?

Wait...no, a different letter. An older letter. After all, Loki is old Norse. How do you spell his name in that again?

ᛚᛟᚲ ᛁ

And ENHANCE on that third letter!

This, my friends, is a Kenaz/Kaunaz, or what would become 'K' in our alphabet. It is also known as the 'Loki Rune' (and the Ulcer Rune, for some reason. I suspect Odin understands why). It’s used to spell his name, but is also used on his own to represent him. Heck, it's even his Superman 'S' in the comics:

Runes are more than letters - they are symbols for concepts. So what else does it mean?

Primarly, it means ‘torch’.

And also ‘knowledge’ (ken). As well as ‘growth, change, the search for truth, decay, arrogance, elitism, feminine, kinship and creativity.’

...Okay, that’s a lot, but you have to admit it fits.

More specifically, it means ‘Mastery of the Fire’. As in, someone who has learned to tame fire so that it is helpful, not harmful. To bring light and, symbolically, knowledge.

There’s another way Loki’s been associated with fire - in the Wagner Ring Cycle, Das Rheingold, the opera that inspired much the Thor films’ aesthetic and certainly their helmets, Loki is called ‘Loge’, which means ‘Fire’. He’s usually dressed to match, too -

Many trickster figures are associated with fire. They are usually called ‘Fire-bringers’ - See: Raven, Lucifer, Prometheus, etc. They are often complex figures with a foot in different worlds, but who nonetheless help mankind with the gift of ‘fire’ - although they usually pay for it, and tend to be self-destructive.

(Side note. Lucifer means light-bringer, which is what luciferase is named after. Because it glows. Which is helpful in labs. In case someone needed to know that.)

Moving from a destructive fire-starter to a fire-bringer seems like a great character arc for Loki to take, especially given his rehabilitation in pop culture, the comics, and even wider culture. Loki has gone from being seen as an evil, deviant, destructive character to one who’s seen as a patron of the arts and creativity, of stories rather than lies. Heck, some scholars of Norse Mythology even posit that he’s the closet thing to a protagonist Norse Mythology has, so I guess that backfired, Snorri!). Being dressed in green and with the sprout clearly also being stylized after his Kaunaz, there’s foreshadowing that he’ll be capable of growing good things even out of ashes.

So, to sum up: Being ‘Satan’ sounds pretty bad, but with a little letter re-arranging like we see in the title sequence, you can be...

...practically a saint. Maybe even a saviour.

Merry Christmas, everybody.

[trolldomblog]

Seidr & Norse Shamanism

In Old Norse, seiðr (sometimes anglicized as seidhr, seidh, seidr, seithr, seith, or seid) was a type of sorcery practiced in Norse society during the Late Scandinavian Iron Age. The practice of seiðr is believed to be a form of magic relating to both the telling and shaping of the future. Connected with Norse religion, its origins are largely unknown, although it became gradually eroded following the Christianization of Scandinavia. Accounts of seiðr later made it into sagas and other literary sources, while further evidence has been unearthed by archaeologists. Various scholars have debated the nature of seiðr, some arguing that it was shamanic in context, involving visionary journeys by its practitioners.

Seiðr practitioners were of both sexes, although females are more widely attested, with such sorceresses being variously known as vǫlur, seiðkonur and vísendakona. There were also accounts of male practitioners, known as seiðmenn, but in practicing magic they brought a social taboo, known as ergi, on to themselves, and were sometimes persecuted as a result. In many cases these magical practitioners would have had assistants to aid them in their rituals.

In pre-Christian Norse mythology, seiðr was associated with both the god Oðinn, a deity who was simultaneously responsible for war, poetry and sorcery, and the goddess Freyja, a member of the Vanir who was believed to have taught the practice to the Æsir.

In the 20th century, adherents of various modern pagan new religious movements adopted forms of magico-religious practice that include seiðr. The practices of these contemporary seiðr-workers have since been investigated by various academic researchers operating in the field of pagan studies. Darkness covers the tents scattered across the drying grass of the festival grounds with a kindly shadow; at the far end of the sloping valley, the cliffs are edged by the first silver shimmer of the rising moon. As its light grows, it outlines a canvas pavilion and glimmers on the upturned faces of the folk gathered before it. They are gazing at a tall chair like a throne, but higher and draped with a bearskin, where a veiled figure waits, her body motionless, her face in shadow.

“The gate is passed, the seidhkona waits,” says the woman sitting on the fur-covered stool below the high seat. “Is there one here who would ask a question?”

After a moment’s hesitation, someone rises. He must decide whether to move from his present home or continue where he is. What should he do? What fate does the Völva see?

“Speak now, seeress, ’till said thou hast. Answer the asker ’till all he knows. . .” says the leader. And after a moment the seidhkona, her voice harsh as if it comes from a great distance, begins to answer him.

This could be a scene from the world of our ancestors, but in fact the ritual described above took place at a pagan festival in Northern California. For the past three years, a group called Hrafnar (“the Ravens”) has been performing a reconstruction of the Old Norse seidh ritual as a service to the community. The group has worked outdoors in rain or moonlight, in an underground bunker, and in living rooms; for groups of forty or more people, or for only two or three. In addition to assisting in personal growth, our purpose has been to demonstrate the validity of the shamanic tradition of Northern Europe, and to serve the larger pagan community to which we belong as the Völvas of Scandinavia served their people. The procedure has undergone many changes during that time, and continues to evolve, but we have now learned enough so that it seems appropriate to share our findings.

Norse Shamanism

The form of divination described above is one of a group of practices referred to as Seidh, which bear a strong resemblance to activities which in other cultures are called Shamanism. In order to understand what Hrafnar is trying to do, one needs to know something about Shamanism in general and how it was practiced in the northern lands.

Shamanism may well claim to be the oldest type of spiritual practice still in use among humankind. Evidence for activities similar to those of later shamans can be seen in the Paleolithic cave paintings. Shamanic practices have survived at all the edges of the inhabited world, with remarkable similarities in both technique and symbolism appearing in places as disparate as Siberia and Tierra del Fuego. Such a broad dispersal suggests that shamanism was practiced by homo sapiens at a very early stage of development, before its dispersion into different cultures. With such a venerable and extensive history, one would expect to find evidence of shamanic practice in the pre-Christian cultures of Northern Europe as well.

A careful analysis of Norse and Celtic sources suggests that this is indeed true. To the reader familiar with the literature of shamanism, many of the visionary and magical feats attributed to both Druids and Old Norse vitkis or völvas seem strongly reminiscent of shamanic practices. The Icelandic sagas are rich in accounts of magic of all kinds, including spirit journeys, weather working, healing, prophecy, and shape changing. Some of the Scandinavian practices may well have been learned from the Saami (Lapps) or Finns, but accounts from Celtic and even Greek legend support a belief in native Indo-European shamanism as well.

 Seidr

The practice for which we have the most information is called seidh (nominative case in Old Norse, seidhr), which may come from a word meaning “to speak” or “to sing”, or possibly be cognate to the verb “to seethe”, derived from the rituals of salt-boiling (Grimm, III:1047). According to Stephen Glosecki,

The etymology of seidhr, however, suggests indigenous development, perhaps retention of Indo-European practice. The mysterious term is cognate with French séance, Latin sedere; Old English sittan, and thus with a large group of terms based on the Indo-European root *sed-. A seidhr, then, was literally a séance — a “sitting” to commune with the spirits.

— (Shamanism and Old English Poetry, p. 97)

In the literature, seidh refers to various kinds of magical practice, including an act of divination or prophecy performed while in trance. Other terms for the practitioner of seidh would be seidhkona, spákona, or for a man, seidhmadhr. A more general term for a male spiritual practitioner was vitki (in Anglo-Saxon, wicca or [fem.] wicce). At an earlier period, both men and women appear to have practiced this craft. Male practitioners of seidh included Ragnvald Rettilbeini (the son of King Harald Fair hair, who was burned by Erik Bloodaxe at their father’s command along with the men who worked seidh with him), and Eyvindr Kelda, who was drowned by King Olaf. However, the majority of those who practice seidh in the sagas are female. The strong feminine tradition makes this form of shamanism especially interesting to women.

Skill in seidh was a specialty of the god Odin. It is said to have been taught to the Aesir by the goddess Freyja (Ynglingasaga: 4) and parts of the practice probably originated with the Vanir cult. On the other hand, Odin was himself originally a shamanic deity, who seems to have acquired this magical technique in addition to his mastery of the runes and other lore. In part VII of the Ynglingasaga, we learn that —

Odin had the skill which gives great power and which he practiced himself. It is called seith, and by means of it he could know the fate of men and predict events that had not yet come to pass; and by it he could also inflict bane on men, or soul loss or waning health, or also take wit or power from some men, and give them to others. But this sorcery is attended by such ergi [a term meaning sexual, or spiritual, receptivity used as an insult] that manly men considered it shameful to practice it, and so it was taught to priestesses.

Odin could change himself. His body then lay as if sleeping or dead, but he became a bird or a wild beast, a fish or a dragon, and journeyed in the twinkling of an eye to far-off lands, on his own errands or those of other men. Also, with mere words he was able to extinguish fires, to calm the seas, and to turn the winds any way he pleased.

A passage from the Lokasenna is of especial interest, since if the verb in the second line is examined carefully, it may provide evidence for Norse use of the shamanic drum. Taunting Odin, Loki says–

But thou in Samsey wast performing seidh

And beating out (spells) like a Völva,

Vitki-like didst pass through the world of men,

In woman’s wise, I believe.

— (Lokasenna: 24)

Other practices identified as seidh include raising storms, journeying or battling in animal form, sending a nightmare to kill someone by suffocation in his sleep, and love spells, all things with which shamans in other cultures are credited (or accused of) as well. Journeying, both in the body and in trance, is a standard practice in Norse literature. Destinations vary, there are references to travel in Midgard (viewing other parts of the real world) and seeking Odin’s Seat of Seeing in Asgard. However, by far the most common use of the term seidh is in reference to a ritual in which the seeress (völva or seiðkona) sits on a platform or high seat (seidhjallr), goes into trance and prophesies for the community. It is this practice which Hrafnar has to date spent the most time in recovering.

The most comprehensive account of a seidh session (or indeed, of any Norse ritual) which survives is the story in section four of the Saga of Erik the Red, in which a Völva comes to one of the settlements in Greenland to prophesy for the community. The idea that physically elevating the seer will assist in vision also seems to be behind the tripod upon which the Delphic Pythia sat to prophesy, and perhaps the tree trunk which the Machi shamaness of the Araucanian tribe of South America climbs in order to declare her visions as well.

In former times the machi mounted a platform supported by shrubs (the rewe) and there, in prolonged contemplation of the sky, she had her visions… When the machi has returned to her senses, she describes her journey to the sky, and announces that the Sky Father has granted all the wishes of the community.

— (Eliade: Shamanism, p.325)

The important features of the seidh rite in Erik’s Saga are as follows: The Völva was an itinerant priestess, requested to come to the steading to divine for them when the current famine would end. Other texts suggest that formerly such priestesses travelled with a group of younger people, perhaps in training, but at this period the Spákona Thorbjorg alone remained. When she arrived, she was given an opportunity to get to know the place, and then fed a meal of the hearts of all the different kinds of beasts available (possibly a reference to a sacrifice, in which the rest of the meat would have been eaten by the others). In Irish tradition, an offering to the gods was also sometimes a prerequisite to prophecy.

To prophesy, the Greenland Völva sat upon a raised seat with a cushion stuffed with hen feathers. To enable her to go into trance, a special song, the vardhlokur, was sung by a woman, which summoned the spirits. As a result, the seeress prophesied the end of the famine, and also answered many questions for members of the community. She wore a special costume, consisting of a blue cloak ornamented with stones, a necklace of glass beads, a cap of black lambskin lined with white cat skin, cat skin gloves, and calfskin shoes. A belt supported her skin pouch of magical paraphernalia and a walrus ivory handled knife, and she carried a carven staff with a brass knob, also set with stones. The most significant aspects of this attire are probably the inclusion of different kinds of animal fur, especially the skins of the cat, sacred to Freyja, and the staff, which appears in a 6th century plaque which may depict a priestess, and is among the items forbidden to Christians. In Laxdælasaga, a seidh staff is found in a grave believed to be that of a völva.

The Hrafnar Seidh Ritual

In the references to prophetic seidh which have survived, attention focuses on the questions, and beyond the information that a special song was sung, little is said about the techniques used to achieve vision. However, in studying the Eddas, we note that the Voluspá; BaldersdraumR, and the Shorter Seeress’ Prophecy all recount episodes in which Odhinn journeys to the Underworld to consult the Völva. These stories suggest two possibilities — the first is that the place in which prophetic vision is found is Hel, home of the ancestral spirits, and second is that the process of questioning was structured according to a traditional formula to which the seer was conditioned to respond. In seidh as performed by Hrafnar, singing is used to change consciousness and raise energy, the journey to the Underworld serves to bring everyone to the source of knowledge, and the formulaic questioning keeps the visionary state under control.

The first step is purification with the smoke of sacred herbs. Today smudging is most familiar from Native American tradition, but the practice of smoking with herbs (called recels) is found in Anglo-Saxon sources and elsewhere in European folklore. The purpose of the practice is to help people get rid of tensions and preoccupations that would prevent them from focusing on the work at hand. The leader or householder then defines the space to be used for the ceremony. One or more of the participants may orient and balance the group by honoring the directions and the local nature spirits. Finally, the gods in general and those deities particularly associated with seidh are invoked. With each step, the group moves deeper into the world of Norse myth. By the time the journeying begins, everyone should be caught up by the momentum of the ceremony.

None of this is strictly necessary for the practice of seidh. However Christian denunciations of pagan prophetic practice indicate that the gods were invoked before performing divination. More important is the psychological function of these activities. Taking time to establish Sacred Space provides a transitional period in which the participants can release the preoccupations of the day and their identities in the modern world and move into the world of Nordic myth. It is also useful to define the area of the ritual, especially when a ceremony is being performed in someone’s living room.

Wearing authentic clothing helps all of the participants make that psychological transition, just as wearing a cap or cape with skins or pictures of one’s power animal and other symbols helps the shaman to function. A great deal of this could be classed as theater, but any analysis of the shamanic literature will make the dramatic element in most traditional practices quite clear.

‘Tis time to sing at the Seat of Thul,

At the well of Urdh to welcome wisdom. . .”

With these words from the Havamál we move into the heart of the ritual, preparation for the prophetic trance begins. The seidh journey is powered by the energy raised by dance and drumming, chant and song. As in traditional societies, an exchange takes place between shaman and people in which the energy of the community enables the shaman to journey farther and faster to bring back the knowledge they need. The forms this takes may vary. Sometimes Hrafnar ceremonies include fiddlers who play Swedish folk music to get people into the mood. More often, we use the drum. The drummer should begin a strong beat to which all may sway, clap, etc. and if there is room, dance in a line or spiral which becomes a circle again, or only the seer/esses may dance. This is followed by the power songs of the seer/esses. A whistle may signal the end of the preparatory phase.

The Guide or drummer then begins a slow beat, and Guide begins the induction, or the Seer/ess may narrate the journey. It begins with instructions to relax the limbs, to deepen and regularize the breathing. Then people are directed to visualize a familiar outdoor spot from which a path leads downward and into a forest. The trees arch overhead to form a tunnel, through which one passes to the Sacred Grove. This is the barrier between the real world and Midgard, which is the Mid-world, the non-ordinary version of our normal plane of existence. In the center of the Sacred Grove rises Yggdrasil, the world tree. From this point, the journey incorporates imagery from traditional Underworld journeys, ending before the Gate, where all except the Seer/ess remain during the questioning.

The journey always follows the same general outline. Since this is being done aloud, the rest of the group hears and is carried along on the journey. In practice, each participant interprets the narration through his or her own symbol system, so that each person’s journey is different, although everyone arrives at the same goal. Each seer/ess or Guide visualizes the journey and narrates it in his or her own way, however the route is always essentially the same. As the group has continued to work together, members have influenced each other’s visions of the road.

This shared vision is the equivalent of the culture-specific interpretation of the Otherworld inherited by members of a traditional society. It also places the entire group in a rapport which facilitates the divination. Some symbols are universal, but the visions of individuals in a traditional culture tend to consist of images which other members of that culture can recognize and understand. By intentionally furnishing the first part of the journey with images from Norse culture, we increase the probability that the original material that follows will come from the same stratum of the collective unconscious, providing an integrated and comprehensible experience.

It is important to note that the Hel of Germanic mythology is by no means the same as the Hell of Christianity, to which, in English, it gave its name. Although Loki’s daughter Hella, who rules it, is in part a goddess of death and decay, the other side of her face is young and beautiful. Hel appears to include both the horrors of the grave and the beauty of the Undying Lands. Green plants flourish there even when in the world it is winter. Hel is the world beneath the mound — the world of the ancestors.

The topography of the Underworld appears to have been thoroughly mapped by the ancients; there is a remarkable degree of agreement in the accounts of journeys– the obstacles to be surmounted, the rivers crossed, the beings encountered on the way. Such a definitive tradition suggests generations of journeying. This pathway through the collective unconscious has been well surveyed.

Although the entire group makes the journey to the Underworld together, only the seer takes the further step of going through the gates, and only after formally indicating his or her willingness to do so. If the first Seer/ess has guided the journey, at this point a second person takes over as Guide. The chant is sung by everyone, to a medieval Norwegian melody. The music and the drumming carry the Seer/ess as s/he visualizes going through the Gateway into the Underworld. Individual experiences of this second stage of trance vary, however all agree that a definite shift in consciousness occurs. The experience is generally pleasant. For some, the stimulus of a question is required for images to form, others begin to see spirits etc. as soon as they arrive.

In the Eddas, Odin generally begins by chanting a spell to summon the Völva from her mound and stating his magical name and powers. He signals his question by saying– “Cease not, Völva, till said thou hast; answer the asker till all he knows….” (Baldrsdraumr 8, etc.). The Völva signals that she has finished with one answer and is ready for a new question by saying, “I tell thee much, yet more lore have I; thou needs must know this — wilt know still more?” (line 4, etc.). or in Voluspá, “Wit you more, or how?”

This pattern is the model for the interaction between the Guide and the seer/ess during Seidh trance. The role of the Guide at this point is to act as intermediary between the group as a whole, still in first stage trance, and the Seer/ess. In the orientation, people should be warned to make their questions as simple and specific as possible. The Guide signals questioners to begin and signals the end of a sequence. S/he also maintains sufficient rapport with the Seer/ess to tell when the Seer/ess is tiring and end the session. If there are more questions than the first Seer/ess can handle, a second and if required a third speaker is put up into the high seat and the sequence from the singing onward repeated.

Some querents may have questions involving the dead, or there may be times when a seer/ess senses spirits who are eager to communicate. Given that we are invading the realm of the spirits for this work, it seems only just that from time to time they should be allowed to have their say. The seer/ess may hear and transmit the message, or in some cases, allow the spirit to speak through him/her. This kind of communication, however, should be handled carefully, and special care should be taken in bringing the seer/ess back to ordinary consciousness.

When all questions have been answered, the Guide brings the last Seer/ess back through the Gate, but s/he may stay in High Seat for journey home. To the beat of the drum, the Guide narrates return journey in reverse order from entry. At the end of the narration, the Guide or a singer may sing another song to help people make the transition back to ordinary reality.

The final part of the ritual recapitulates the actions of the opening in reverse order, assisting all participants to make an orderly transition back to normal reality. Tasting rock salt is helpful in grounding, and distributing it provides an opportunity to make sure that everyone has in fact shifted back to ordinary consciousness. We always try to have food and drink available afterward to continue this process and replace expended energy. The social atmosphere of sharing food also provides a supportive environment in which people can debrief and discuss the interpretation of their answers.

The larger the group being served, the more useful a division of labor in the ceremony becomes. Roles include that of the Seer/ess, the Guide, one or more Wardens to assist in getting seers in and out of the chair and recovering as well as watching out for problems in the group as a whole, and of course, the people who are asking the questions. Each of these functions is important, and each requires preparation and training.

The element that makes seidh different from individual shamanic journeying is the presence of the people with the questions. The Harner technique in which a shaman journeys to obtain a vision for a client, helps him or her to interpret it, and teaches him to continue working in this way on his own occupies a middle position between solo work and seidh. Seidh allows a shaman, or seer, to use a single journey to see for many people in a way which recreates the culturally supportive environment of a traditional setting. In fact, only if there are several people seeking information of this kind does it make sense to put on such an elaborate ceremony. It might be said, therefore, that next to the seer/ess, the people are the most important participants.

Despite the fact that others lead the journey, the role of the querent should not be a passive one. Adding to the number of people sharing the vision seem to increase its intensity. Even an experienced journeyer may find the trip more vivid when others are along. The presence of a group provides an automatic support network which helps to validate the experience, and the energy and excitement created by group chanting provides extra power to carry the seer/ess into the second level of trance.

It is the responsibility of the querent to frame the question in a way that will provide a useful answer, so s/he should spend some thought on choosing the subject and be specific about how it is described. Questions should be narrowed down so that a single short vision will provide useful information. They should be serious, and they should be important to the asker. In asking their questions and interpreting the seidhkona’s replies, Querents would be well advised to heed the advice Socrates gave to Xenopohon regarding oracles. According to the master, it is stupid to ask questions which can be answered by research, reason or ethical principles.

In short, what the gods have granted us to do by dint of learning, we must learn. What is hidden from mortals we should try to find out from the gods by divination; for to him that is in their grace the gods grant signs.

— Xenophon, Memorabilia, LCL, trans. O.J. Todd, vol. 4, pp. 5-7

Ancient writers such as Epictetus also point out the necessity of approaching the oracle with a completely detached and open mind, determined to put the answer to good use, whatever it may be.

Interestingly enough, we have found that a vision will sometimes answer more than one question — the one that triggered it, and a question which someone else in the group is waiting to ask. The visions may stimulate insights in those who have not yet asked their questions or did not know they had one. Others simply “hang out” in a comfortable state or do their own spiritual work until it is time to return.

The greater the need of the querent, the more powerful the vision will be. The process is essentially interactive. Seer and querents have already been placed in rapport by journeying together; the seer uses his or her skills to reach a level of consciousness in which information and images can be accessed with great efficiency, but the questions, especially those coming from complete strangers, evoke the images, and validate the seer’s belief in his or her skills.

The querent therefore needs to stay as focused as possible, to sing enthusiastically when required, and to formulate his or her question as simply and clearly as possible. The more open the querent is to the experience, the more powerful the answer. In some cases, the answer may be something the querent has been told before, or a thing that could be communicated just as well in a less elaborate setting. The fact that the information is communicated when both parties are in an altered state seems to give it more impact. The images which are the most common type of response can have great power, and even ordinary information conveyed in trance may acquire profound significance. In any case, the querent is more likely to remember and understand advice received in this way.

The only equipment really needed for seidh is the mind. However, like shamans in traditional societies, in Hrafnar we have found that when one is working with a group, a certain amount of dramatic technique increases the effectiveness of the process. Physical symbols, which speak to the unconscious, help us to convince ourselves and those who work with us that we are indeed recreating the spirituality of our ancestors. Thus, in addition to researching the process itself, we have studied the culture from which it came, and tried, as much as possible, to recreate its clothing and artifacts. The effectiveness of this may be judged by one attendee’s comment that the experience felt like participating in something out of National Geographic.

Results

Seidh is not intended to replace other spiritual or therapeutic practices. Its benefits, as with any experience, depend on the use that is made of them. The ritual appears to have two major effects. The first is to provide spiritual counselling for a maximum number of people in a single session. The second is to give people a powerful sense of participation in a spiritual experience in the Northern European tradition. Many querents have reported that the answers they received were extremely accurate, and that they received new insights into their situations.

The Hrafnar seidh procedure is now reasonably well tested. Both women and men have been trained and seem to function equally well. Several of the seers are able to handle a roomful of questions with minimal assistance. Others are able to take several questions at a time with some support. Clearly, this is a skill which becomes easier with practice. The group has become known as a resource available to the local community and is beginning to work with other Norse groups such as the Ring of Troth. Hrafnar performs seidh at several annual festivals as well as on special occasions. In the future, we will continue to train more seer/esses, and give them the experience they need to function more and more independently.

[holidays-events]

Every December 25, billions of people around the world gather together to celebrate the Christmas holiday. While many dedicate the occasion as the Christian tradition of the birth of Jesus, others commemorate the age-old customs of the pagans, the indigenous peoples of pre-Christian Europe. Still, others might carry on the celebration of Saturnalia, the feast of the Roman god of agriculture. And, the celebration of Saturnalia included the ancient Persian Feast of the Unconquered Sun on December 25th. Whatever the case, one can certainly encounter many different ways of celebrating the occasion.

Through the centuries these local and universal traditions have gradually blended together to form our modern tradition of Christmas, arguably the first global holiday. Today, many cultures around the world celebrate Christmas with a wide variety of customs. In the United States, most of our traditions have been borrowed from Victorian England, which were themselves borrowed from other places, notably mainland Europe. In our current culture, many people may be familiar with the Nativity scene or maybe visiting Santa Claus at the local shopping mall, but these common traditions weren't always with us. This compels us to ask some questions about the geography of Christmas: where did our holiday traditions come from and how did they come to be? The list of world Christmas traditions and symbols is long and varied. Many books and articles have been written about each one separately. In this article, three of the most common symbols are discussed: Christmas as the birth of Jesus Christ, Santa Claus, and the Christmas tree.

 Origin and Diffusion of Christmas Symbols  

Christmas was designated as the birth of Jesus in the fourth century CE. During this period, Christianity was just beginning to define itself and Christian feast days were integrated into the popular pagan traditions to ease the adoption of the new religious beliefs. Christianity diffused outward from this region through the work of evangelizers and missionaries and eventually, European colonization brought it to places all over the world. The cultures that adopted Christianity also adopted the celebration of Christmas.

The legend of Santa Claus began with a Greek Bishop in fourth-century Asia Minor (modern-day Turkey). There in the town of Myra, a young bishop, named Nicholas, gained a reputation for kindness and generosity by distributing his family fortune to the less fortunate. As one story goes, he stopped the sale of three young women into enslavement by providing enough gold to make a marriage dowry for each of them. According to the story, he threw the gold through the window and it landed in a stocking drying by the fire. As time passed, the word spread of Bishop Nicholas' generosity and children began hanging their stockings by the fire in hopes that the good bishop would pay them a visit.

Bishop Nicholas died on December 6th, 343 CE. He was canonized as a saint a short time later and the feast day of Saint Nicholas is celebrated on the anniversary of his death. The Dutch pronunciation of Saint Nicholas is Sinter Klaas. When Dutch settlers came to the United States, the pronunciation became "Anglicanized" and changed to Santa Claus which remains with us today. Little is known about what Saint Nicholas looked like. Depictions of him often portrayed a tall, thin character in a hooded robe sporting a graying beard. In 1822, an American theological professor, Clement C. Moore, wrote a poem "A Visit from Saint Nicholas" (more popularly known as "The Night Before Christmas"). In the poem, he describes 'Saint Nick' as a jolly elf with a round belly and a white beard. In 1881, an American cartoonist, Thomas Nast, drew a picture of Santa Claus using Moore's description. His drawing gave us the modern-day image of Santa Claus.

The origin of the Christmas tree can be found in Germany. In pre-Christian times, the pagans celebrated the Winter Solstice, often decorated with pine branches because they were always green (hence the term evergreen). The branches were often decorated with fruit, especially apples and nuts. The evolution of the evergreen tree into the modern Christmas tree begins with Saint Boniface, on a mission from a Britain (modern-day England) through the forests of Northern Europe. He was there to evangelize and convert the pagan peoples to Christianity. Accounts of the journey say that he intervened in the sacrifice of a child at the foot of an oak tree (oak trees are associated with the Norse god Thor). After stopping the sacrifice, he encouraged the people to instead gather around the evergreen tree and divert their attention away from bloody sacrifices to acts of giving and kindness. The people did so and the tradition of the Christmas tree was born. For centuries, it remained mostly a German tradition.

The widespread diffusion of the Christmas tree to areas outside of Germany didn't happen until Queen Victoria of England married Prince Albert of Germany. Albert moved to England and brought with him his German Christmas traditions. The idea of the Christmas tree became popular in Victorian England after an illustration of the Royal Family around their tree was published in 1848. The tradition then quickly spread to the United States along with many other English traditions.

 Conclusion  

Christmas is a historic holiday that blends ancient pagan customs with the more recent universal traditions of Christianity. It is also an interesting trip around the world, a geographic story that originated in many places, especially Persia and Rome. It gives us the account of three wise men from the orient visiting a newborn baby in Palestine, the recollection of good deeds by a Greek bishop living in Turkey, the fervent work of a British missionary traveling through Germany, a children's poem by an American theologian, and the cartoons of a German-born artist living in the United States. All of this variety contributes to the festive nature of Christmas, which is what makes the holiday such an exciting occasion. Interestingly, when we pause to remember why we have these traditions, we have geography to thank for it.

https://www.thoughtco.com/the-geography-of-christmas-1434486

Baskerville, Brian. "The Geography of Christmas." ThoughtCo, Aug. 28, 2020, thoughtco.com/the-geography-of-christmas-1434486.

[nuredinburhan]

Multidisciplinary Creative; My personal branding thoroughly explained.

“Semiology therefore aims to take in any system of signs, whatever their substance and limits; images, gestures, musical sounds, objects, and the complex associations of all these, which form the content of ritual, convention or public entertainment: these constitute, if not languages, at least systems of signification.” - Roland Barthes

We are engulfed in the ether of signs and symbols and it has become instinctive to recognise the connotations of widely used symbols globally. It’s a language with no bounds that transcends linguistic barriers. I wrote a 1500 word essay on the semiology of the heart symbol <3 in the first year of studying BA Advertising in UAL;LCC (got an A, obviously) I found that there are little to no correlation between a symbol and their connotations. a better example is the use of the Swastika by the Nazi regime in Germany - initially it was used by followers of the Buddhist, Hindu and Jainism faiths, it represents the sun, another hypothesis reveals that the four arms represent the four elements of nature - the sun, wind, water  and soil.

As a Creative, I try to incorporate strategy in all my work - to define an idea or brand through semiology, colour, typography, visual styles or whatever apt technique to effectively say more with less. As Hegarty would argue “Advertising is saying more with less” leading me to the relevance of this post: 

The Magpie, a personal take

On a personal level the Magpie represents the darkest moments in my life, December 2014, London. I went through my first and hopefully last harrowing episode of Psychosis; a severe mental disorder in which thought and emotions are so impaired that contact is lost with external reality. In many cultures that episode would be described as a spiritual awakening, which makes sense given the experience I underwent and the battles i endured, am still endure and inevitably will fight and pray that I win! There I was at the beginning of the first term of the third and final year of university, which accounted to 100% of my degree. Passionate and ready to take on the world with each and every project thrown at me, I planned to apply every execution to a real world problem - i was adamant to make a change at the very least to my world, using everything in my power to effect change. To put my readers at rest, I managed to not only tame my demons but understand them and use them to my advantage in order to manoeuvre through life with my officiated diagnosis - I graduated with a 2:1, despite this crippling handicap. I won’t be explaining every thought and event that ensued as I reviled in the darkest depths in the chaos of my mind - one I hold dear is the countless sightings of a surprising amount of Magpies everywhere I went. It became my symbol of my moment of subjective reality for 3 months. I am an innately curious person, and so I researched the semiotics of the humble Magpie,as soon as the dust settled and i was able recoup, to better understand the occurrence - and maybe find out what it means, if anything at all.

Denotations of the Magpie

The Magpie is connected with a plethora of connotations, it’s best to define the denotations first; Magpies are birds of a Corvidae (Crow) family, including the black and Eurasian magpie, which is widely considered one of the most intelligent animals in the world. The only non mammal species able to recognise itself in the mirror test. Found in the temperature regions of Europe, Asia, western North America with populations also present in tibet and high elevation area of India and Pakistan. Magpies are believed to have evolved from a Jay-like ancestor and the 'pie' in Magpie and Treepie refers to the black and white or pied plumage of many of them. The common Magpie was originally known simply as 'the Pie', but in the 16th century the prefix Mag was added meaning 'chatterer'.The Magpie with its immaculate black and white plumage and green and blue gloss, is an unmistakable bird. In flight it can be easily distinguished by its long-tailed profile. In the open it flies, rising awkwardly, with quick flaps and glides - like a ragged kite. Among trees the species moves confidently, reflecting its agility. On the ground the tail is often held high as the bird 'kangaroo-hops' along. Both the European Magpies are highly social and tend to be found in small flocks outside the breeding season. Other species are usually found in pairs, or in small groups of 3 to 4. This applies to the Treepies as well. Large numbers of magpies gather in 'parliaments'. No one is entirely sure why, during the winter, these birds can gather in groups of up to 100. Gatherings possibly occur when a pair of magpies try to invade another pair's territory; the ensuing competition for breeding space may attract large numbers of magpie onlookers.

Cultural connotations of the Magpie as defined by www.druidry.org

China The Chinese traditionally see the magpie as a bird of good fortune, except if you kill one when misfortune will arrive. Magpie is a symbol of happiness in Chinese culture. The singing of a magpie foretells happiness and good luck. That's why it is called 'Happy Magpie' by Chinese people. The Manchu minority in Northeast China even regards magpies as sacred birds. Under the Manchu dynasty it also represented imperial rule. Legends concerning magpies are found in the historical records about Manchu. In both Chinese and Korean myths the Magpie Bridge joins the 3 bright stars of Aquila in the night sky, called the Cowherd, to Lyra, or the Spinning Damsel, across the river that is the Milky Way. This happens on the 7th night of the 7th moon.

Korea Koreans believed that magpies delivered good news and invited good people. The most famous painting related to a magpie is the one with striped tiger (ggach'i wha horangi minhwa): the magpie is happily chirping to a tiger. The magpie represented good news and the tiger symbolised good luck, since its pronunciation in Chinese sounds similar to good luck (bok). Another interpretation states that the magpie is the village spirit that announces good omens, and the tiger is the servant that does his bidding; another that the tiger is a yangban (aristocrat) and the magpie is the representative of the common people, scolding him for his insensitivity to their plight.

Mongolia The Magpie is a clever creature with control of the weather.

Germany In Germany the number of birds, according to tradition, indicated forthcoming events. One is viewed as unlucky; two brings merriment or marriage; three is a successful journey; four is good news and five indicates you should expect company.

France In Poitou there still lingers a trace of pie-worship: a bunch of heath and laurel is tied to the top of a high tree in honour of the magpie, because her chatter warns the people of the wolf's approach.

Scandinavia Under Christianity the same shift of superstition from lucky to unlucky occurred in Norse countries as across the rest of Europe. In old Norse mythology, Skadi (the daughter of a giant) was a priestess of the magpie clan. The black and white markings of the magpie were seen to represents sexual union, as well as male and female energies kept in balance. Later on in time, Scandinavians thought that magpies were sorcerers flying to unholy gatherings, and yet the nesting magpie was once considered a sign of luck in those countries.

Italy The Magpie features in a Rossini opera, ‘The Thieving Magpie’, or La Gazza Ladra. This opera tells the story of a pet magpie that steals shiny objects, resulting in an innocent servant almost being sent to the gallows after being accused of the magpie's crimes. The story echoes the common belief that magpies steal and hide shiny objects. In some countries it is thought to chatter in a way that sounds like human speech. For example, in Italy it is known as ‘gazza’, and has given its name to ‘gazetta’, the Italian for newspaper.

Greece It was sacred to Bacchus, the God of wine, so it became associated with intoxication.

Britain An old English tradition notes that if one magpie flies by, you should take your hat off and bow repeating this line : Morning/Afternoon Mr Magpie. How's Mrs Magpie and all the little Magpies? This will help assure your good luck throughout the day.

One seen flying or croaking around a house or sitting alone symbolises that misfortune is present. Should a flock of magpies suddenly abandon a nesting area then, like the crow and rook, death is present and hard times are ahead. To avoid bad luck it is said that taking your hat off to the passing birds will act as protection against darker forces. Perhaps these associations stem from the fact that it was the only bird that would not enter Noahs’ Ark preferring to stay outside. It is one of the very birds that also has black and white plumage, a combination of the sacred or holy colour (white) and of evil (black).

To have one perch on your roof though is supposed to indicate that the house will never fall down. According to tradition it would be best to rearrange a journey if you see just one. If one is seen on the way to church it signifies that death is present, hence some believe that it is best to cross yourself to ward off evil or negative energies whilst saying 'Devil, Devil, I defy thee'.

In Somerset, England it was once thought that to carry an onion at all times would provide protection against magpies.

In Scotland the magpie was once believed to carry a drop of the Devil's blood under its tongue which perhaps stems from another belief that the magpie was the only bird not to wear full mourning at the Crucifixion.

The following rhyme was popularised by a children's TV programme of the same name:

One for sorrow, two for joy, three for a girl, four for a boy, five for silver, six for gold and seven for a secret never to be told.

Legend also has it that when a magpie's mate dies it summons an assembly of other magpies at which the dead bird is honoured before a new mate is selected. In Celtic lore the bird was sacred to 'Magog.'

Australia The magpie is seen in a negative, aggressive light. This may be because the Australian Magpie is of the Shrike (an aggressive hunter) family rather than the Crow family.

Native American In general in Native American myth the Magpie is seen as the ally and helper of humans. They feature in legends from the Navaho, Blackfoot and Cheyenne

Magic Magpie: one of those clever birds that has shamanic qualities

Symbolism Related to the crow the magpie is an intelligent and adaptable bird. Ancient folklore associated with the magpie suggests that when two or more fly into one’s life good fortune is coming soon. Since magpies are opportunists and seldom miss a chance to get something for nothing, those with this medicine should pay attention to subtle omens that appear in their life then act accordingly so opportunities are not missed. The magpie asks us to wake up and be conscious in every area of our life.

Magpies are curious and have a reputation for stealing anything that they can carry away. They use whatever they find and teach us how to be resourceful. Magpie medicine people have the ability to succeed in life. Those with this totem are usually eclectic and able to draw on a variety of resources to assist them in their pursuits. Being able to adapt to different situations in a spontaneous way is one of the magpie’s strongest attributes. Those with this totem often find that their interests are varied which make master ship of any one thing difficult although not impossible.

Magpies are extremely vocal especially in groups. They help those with this medicine learn how to use their voice to attract attention, attain desired goals as well as acquire respect from others. This applies only if this medicine is developed sufficiently. Otherwise the voice and its expression may need improvement for positive results to be obtained. Proper communication is one of the lessons that needs to be learned by magpie medicine people.

Although many in the Norse tradition associate the Magpie with Skadi, because of the similarity of the name, I associate the Magpie with Loki's daughter Hel. Hel is described as having a face that is 'half blue-black and half flesh (or white) coloured' - like the Magpie's colouring. She rules the lowest of the Nine Worlds, at the base of Yggdrasil, as mistress of the chthonic mysteries. Like Asgardhr, Helheim (Hel's home) cannot be reached directly from Midgardhr - one must ‘ride over a bridge’, or travel between worlds with the aid of one´s fylgia (usually a totem or sacred animal or Soul Companion and Guide). The bridge to Helheim crosses the river Gjoll and it’s guarded by the giant Maiden Modgudh. As Bifrost is fiery and narrow, the bridge to Helheim is icy and wide.

Helheim is also called Niflhel, meaning Misty Hel or Dark Hel, which refers to the Goddess´ primary aspect of concealment. Hel borders very closely on the world Nifheimr; it is located down and to the North, and it is the implied location of the venom-filled halls, on Na Strand, and home of the dragon Niddhogg, embodiment of the concealed powers of destruction/transformation. Hel is the hidden root to which all things sink, as all the waters wend their way to Hvergelmir, and from which all things rise again. Although the realm of Hel is described as horrible in parts - the lifeless, lightless, joyless dwelling of the dead. It is written elsewhere that Hel is brightly bedecked and hospitable. She welcomes those who die of sickness, famine or old-age and even Balder resides there after his death. This dual nature can be seen in the figure of the goddess Hel herself: She is half a beautiful woman and half a corpse, her concealment both that of the womb and that of the tomb. Hel receives those souls who cannot struggle through to Valhalla, but in time, as her name Mother Holle suggests, she bears them forth again.

All of this tells us that the Magpie can be a double-edged sword. It requires mastery of your magpie spirit to achieve things, unmastered it will be self-destructive. Gossip, or uncontrolled chatter, and an unreasoning attraction to shiny things - be it materialistic objects, people or an inability to concentrate - spells danger just as oratory, or controlled chatter, concentration and the quick opportunistic observation can be used to devastating effect.

Tokens and Artwork The Magpie is difficult to find - both in the wild and your local shop! In Korea they appear in artwork and there is Monet's picture 'Magpie in winter' but other than that they are few and far between. Your best bet is to try and find a feather and wear it as a token just as the Cheyenne do.

The Tao Ying Yang amulet would also be a good token as the Ying-yang symbolises the black and white of the Magpie and it's the sort of bright thing that would attract them. The number 7 is a significant number for Magpie people.

Sacred Times Spring and Autumn - the black and white colour of the Magpie represents the balance between light and dark that occurs around the equinoxes. Also the high winds and changeable weather reminds us of the stormy change that the Magpie can bring into life. Dusk and dawn are the times to see Magpies and, much like the equinoxes, they are times when the balance between light and dark is equal.

The other time is dawn and dusk - a time when you are likely to see Magpie's cleaning the road.

The Magpie by Robert S. Warshow

I walked one day In the Garden of Wasted Things, And there I found The bitter ghosts of all that had been spent unwisely, Or lost through brutal circumstance. I found the childhood That some labourer's child had never known; I found the youth that some young man had squandered; There I found some poet's genius That had gone unrecognised. I saw the ghosts of idle words, And small talk, That men had used to waste away the hours. I saw the hopes that had been smothered, And all the dreams That never had come true, And Laughter that had died for lack of bread. I met with all the lives that had been misdirected, And spoke with dreary shades Of loves that might have been, And songs that never had been sung. I met with all these ghosts, And many more; And each of them Sat silently in the shadows, Brooding over quirks of mad Creation, And puppets' dreams.

Once again there aren't many traditional songs or chants that can be used to invoke Magpie. I often use the trance method (as mentioned below) to fly across the otherworld.

Prophecy and Divination You can use the traditional nursery rhyme:

One for sorrow, Two for joy, Three for a girl, Four for a boy, Five for Silver, Six for Gold Seven for a secret never to be told

Or

One for sorrow, Two for mirth, Three for a wedding, Four for a birth. Five for rich, Six for poor, Seven for a witch -- I can tell you no more.

For other tools things like mirrors that contain both dark and light, or other shiny objects would attract the Magpie spirit.

Dreamwork In dreams the Magpie will signify opportunities coming into your life. The number seen will help signify what you should expect.

Magic Circles When drawing the circle dress yourself in black and white and try alternate leg hopping (or visualisations as mentioned in trance below). You can dress in formal wear, a black bowler hat and tailcoat, with your thumbs in your waistcoat (just like in the old films), then bend yourself double, spread your arms out, spread your fingers wide and swoop round the circle to get that magpie feeling.

Trance I find that visualising the Magpie's movement, the way it hops, flexes its tail and flies is the key to trance work. The brightness of its beady eye will draw you in… If you have a magpie spirit guide, once you get used to the visualisation, it becomes a hop, hop, fly to shift into the magpie.

Healing

Fairy of the Magpie Bridge, Poem by Qin Guan (Translation by Kylie Hsu)

Among the beautiful clouds, Over the heavenly river, Crosses the weaving maiden. A night of rendezvous, Across the autumn sky, Surpasses joy on earth. Moments of tender love and dream, So sad to leave the magpie bridge. Eternal love between us two, Shall withstand the time apart.

The Magpie is a strong healer for relationships, particularly those emotional hurts. In Chinese legend a bridge of Magpie's is used for two star-crossed lovers to meet. It is the magpie's faithfulness to their partners and families which you can invoke to send a message to the Gods. Try burning this poem or a drawing of the magpie with incense to speed the message on its way.

Protection - Haiku by DaRC

Magpie meal awaits: Fast car - country lane - danger, Fawn dead on roadside.

Magpie's are excellent protectors and will call out their 'Caw, caw, caw' warning. So in that way forewarned is forearmed. They are also masters of evasion - often using the two of them to do the old 'one-two' on any opponent.

Invoke the Australian magpie for the fearless, aggressive aspect especially when protecting friends or family.

Conclusion

The system of Semiology is malleable, as illustrated by the misuse of the Swastika and the controversial definitions of the magpie. As is branding and the the definition of my creative personal brand, that this essay aims to define. It’s only been a couple of months since I began to openly speak about my experiences with my mental illness - no doubt with the help of Mental Illness Awareness week and many other organisations that have worked to shed light on the matter of mental health. Many of my family and friends and random people i have met have begun to be more understanding of the many conditions that many people are going through. I have accepted it as a part of me, as it has been ever since i could remember before I was officially diagnosed. That being said my mental illness is only a part of my over all eclectic identity as a person and a creative. It has changed and changed me since 2014 and taming my demons has made me stronger and appreciative of the experience - in that i can help others defeat their demons with an empathetic ear, while navigating this world as a divine being in the human experience. What it also means to me as a Creative is to remain steadfast to my Truths and the pursuits there of, to remain undefined or to embrace and not be constricted by the many confusions of connotations that it represents widely. I have taken the magpie as my logo for the reasons stated above, refusing to be pigeon holed or strictly specialising in one Creative discipline. 

In order of most experience in years and works - (Fine) Artist, Art Director, Designer, Photographer, UI/UX - all of these disciplines compliment every idea and can have a part to be in every project that I undertake. I refuse to undertake a sole specialty as it constricts my view of the bigger picture, to go the whole nine yards and further still above and beyond, finesse in execution!