westheskald

[westheskald]

Another thing I've noticed working as a children's librarian is like... kids get so Paralyzed By Choice and the adults in their lives never really register why. Like, for example, we have little scavenger hunt sheets in the children's section and when a kid completes it, they get to pick out a cute eraser from our prize basket. We also have a little toy prize chest as part of our "1000 books before Kindergarten" challenge for when kids complete 100 books--and kids will spend minutes carefully picking through everything while their parents are shooting us anxious looks like "sorry they're taking so long! I know this is silly and it's completely ridiculous that my child is taking so long to choose between a bath toy and a cube puzzle because these are cheap and arbitrary objects! Hurry up, Harper! Just pick something! You're embarrassing me!!" But in the kids' perspective, they already have so little control over what objects come into their lives, and in this case, the object represents labor and effort on their end, so of course they feel they must choose very carefully. I've always been an anxious and indecisive person, so it's striking to see how being rushed really doesn't help that and really only makes it harder for kids to figure out what they want.

[westheskald]

Divine.

I sketched some Greek gods for a postcards project earlier this month ^-^ These are Dionysus, Ares, and Artemis

[westheskald]

I wholeheartedly agree.

As a young teenager, maybe 14 or so, I admired women (sexually), and my male friends, in a brotherly way, who looked like beings of plastic, or something.

Just smothered in too-shiny facial creams and hair gels, too-strong deodorants and other trinkets of modernity. I vividly remember this brief phase and the local Planet Fitness I went to then. It was full of chicks who starved themselves to the point of it being dangerous.

Then one day at around 16 I realized it is much more attractive, and natural, to appear as the gods intended, rather than as the latest personal beauty advertising trend intends.

If one even has to hit a gym, they are too sedentary in their lifestyle. It's all so fake.

It's good to be healthy, genuinely healthy... Physically, intellectually, emotionally and spiritually. Okay with oneself, for oneself.

the natural female body is not radical.

hair, be it on my legs, arms, armpits, face or pubic area is not radical.

my bare face is not radical.

my fat & my rolls are not radical.

my skin without layers of lathered on serums and creams is not radical.

my visible pores, circles under my eyes, acne, be it hormonal or anything else, are not radical.

the natural form of the human body is just what it is; human. and i will not be selling it to young people and women as punk or grunge, as a movement, or as a radical statement made.

this is the mundane, the norm, the every day, the reality, my existence. embrace it, live it.

[westheskald]

06.6 : Theophobia

I saw a cross of Peter online today, and I’m insane so I flipped my phone upside down; 
but, I’m also very defiantly sane, so I decided to fix that problem



I find myself struggling to accept that the cross is upside down
 and in this act, seeking God is an illusion; a fugue state 
through which I cast aside my humanity in an act of cowardice 
choosing comfort over cold, hard earth

 But dust to dust means 
I am suffering 
It means I am alive 
and I am dying 

And the cross is sometimes flipped
 and that doesn’t mean I’m purely made of sin 
It means I’m humbled by my insignificance
 choosing to live again, really live 
in a way that saves me
 not by the grace of an impossible deity
 but through acceptance of a faulty me

 They say we’re devil and god
 above and below
 good and evil in a game of tug of war 
two wolves fighting over a morsel of self 
a shred of consciousness when we devour our lucidity
 to coddle and shelter the fragility of truth between veils of illusion
 What about being human?

 “It’s not the end of the world” 
but every day there’s something new
 sometimes the devil is you 
but our demons are shadows on a wall in a room
 and I can’t sleep, but I’m not seeing the truth
 and an artificial light is a lie
 when I can see clearly in the dark if I acclimate to the nigh t

I’ll be safe, the devil isn’t there, 
the shadows are just light in silhouetted shapes
 and only occupy the space between it, 
where my mind plays tricks, 
and my eyes are too busy 
 counting my miseries to count sheep 

I used to be scared of the dark, 
and of death, and of demons, and sleeping, 
and being left behind, and my own mind tormenting me

 Now I’m just afraid 
of being comfortable and clueless 
Delusional and useless

 Some twisted individuals 
think it’s edgy to flip a cross upside down 
That used to trigger me, 
it used to be insidious

 Today I accept it
 They’re symbols, no more or less 
But they speak to my humanity 
 and what’s illusory about it 

Because some things are divine 
 and some things lack that
 but we’re all human, 
 everything else is an act 
 and that’s a fact

[westheskald]

foods that will poison cats:

alcohol 

chocolate

caffeine

dairy products (adults turn lactose intolerant)

fat trimmings, raw meat, eggs, fish

grapes and raisins

onions and garlic

tuna (when not made for cats)

xylitol (artificial sweetener)

if you have a cat please reblog this

[westheskald]

morning in the mountains - instagram

[westheskald]

From the Keeper of the Tales

CW: Death, mention of alcohol.

Note: This is a long one. Also, I would like to preface something for my own sake. If you are uninterested, you may skip directly to the tale. It's under the keep reading tab.

I am writing this out because I have recently suffered some terrible heartbreak... which you may have guessed from reading my writings featuring one I call, "Señor." Everything finally came to a head earlier this week and now we are no contact. Although it is an answered prayer because the cycle has finally ended, it still hurts. It hurts so much.

As I heal from this, I am going back through the wisdom I have received from the gods and Landvættir, since hindsight is 20/20. I offer this wisdom to you all as well, given to me by a kind spirit some weeks ago. I hope you may find some benefit. And whatever heartbreak, hardships, or suffering you are currently going through, I am praying that you will find relief. If it's any consolation from a stranger on the internet, Daughters, Sons, and Children: I love you. Please keep going.

ᛉ

In Southern Illinois, there is a state park known as Garden of the Gods. It is a beautiful park with amazing views that you would not expect to find in a state like Illinois. Although it is quite a drive for me (about 1.5 hours), I find myself going there often. It reminds me so much of where my family is from in Appalachia. My most popular writing, a hail to the Spirit of the Mountain and Landvættir, was written for that land. The Landvættir there introduced themselves to me as a herd of deer. I offer them incense whenever I can.

A few weeks ago, I went to the Garden of the Gods to present an offering but also just to connect with the spirits some more. I found a cool, shaded rock that was away from the main touristy crowds and sat down to try and connect with the spirits. Using twigs scattered on the rock, I made the rune of Algiz (ᛉ) and offered the incense.

After a few moments of meditating on Algiz, I heard the Landvættir speak: "Go deeper into the woods." I extinguished the incense and did so. I followed the main hiking trail until I found a not-so-trodden path veering to the left. I went off course (what I thought was off course, I should say) going downhill a good way, until I found a dried up ravine. I followed it to the left some more until I realized it was leading back up and around. I was going in a circle. Okay, cool, I guess. I started to trek back uphill (ugh) until I was stopped dead in my tracks as I came across a rock that was shaped as a human ear.

"Wait and listen," I heard the Landvættir say. It was a beautiful resting area as the sun was waning in the afternoon sky. I lit the incense and offered it to the rock, introducing myself, and asked permission to sit on the boulder in front. I felt acceptance of the sage and permission to do so. So, I sat. And I waited. For what, I wasn't quite sure. All I could gather was this was a place to sit and wait to hear something.

I saw many beautiful things as I sat and waited. There was a Luna Moth that flew and stopped at every tree. Earthly deer herds were making their way through. Crows and birds were singing their songs. Even if nothing was going to happen, it was nice to take a pause and appreciate the beauty of the area. I'm not quite sure how long I sat there before The Keeper of the Tales approached me.

As I was growing stiff and considering getting up to leave, the presence of... a man, perhaps, sat opposite of me. I sat with my back turned to the ear rock and he sat facing it. Startled, I greeted him(? I'm honestly not sure what gender this spirit was or if he even conformed to a binary, but it felt like a masculine presence so for this recounting, I will refer to the spirit as he/him) and he returned the greeting. I shouldn't have been surprised that he already knew my name.

Without warning, after his greeting, he immediately went into a tale of wisdom. Below is a transcription of the tale written to the best of my memory and as I heard and understood it:

In a herd of deer, a doe gave birth to twin fawns. It was a rare occurrence and unexpected, for this doe was in the line of elders that would oversee the protection and sanctity of the herd. Her son would replace the elders who passed on—but there were two! The elders gathered to discuss how they were to handle this situation because it was unprecedented. After much deliberation and council, they decided on the fate of the twins: when they grew up into manhood and their antlers had come in, they would fight each other to the death. The winner would take their rightful place as leader of the herd. The loser would be gored by the other.

When the mother of the twins heard this, she was greatly displeased. Being wise in her own eyes, she decided that she would not prepare the twins for this upcoming battle. She would work hard to keep them from fighting with each other by teaching them to greatly respect and love each other as brothers should. That way, when the time would come for them to fight, they would not. Their lives were not worth the leadership role.

As the twins grew, so did their tempers. As much as the mother of the twins taught them about love, peace, and brotherhood, she could not keep them from fighting amongst each other. It was in their very nature to quarrel, it seemed. Despite their quarrels, the twin brothers still loved and respected each other very much. They carried this within them to the time of their manhood, when their antlers grew in. Their mother still kept their destiny hidden from them until she could hide it no more.

As their antlers grew full, the elders were crossing over. It was time to pass on the leadership to the next generation. It was time for the twins to face their destiny. The remaining elders approached the twins and told them it was time to face each other in battle. The twins were surprised and therefore unprepared for this. Fight my own brother? To the death? Never. They couldn’t possibly do such a thing. But something stirred within their souls—the call of destiny, perhaps? Or their egos? They knew that this had to be done because the herd could not continue without a leader to guide them. Each brother felt that they were fit to take on the title and were willing to fight the other for the sake of the title. But they cursed their mother for keeping this hidden from them for they were both unprepared to take on such a task.

And so, the twins fought. Because neither had a chance to train, to prepare, to seek council for this tournament, one was not able to overpower the other. Their antlers remained twisted, tangled amongst each other. They were deadlocked. Their power was equal as if of one buck. They remained this way for seven days and seven nights, until, finally, they both collapsed from exhaustion and died. Their mother failed to prepare a winner for their destined encounter and so the herd was leaderless—much to their detriment. The remaining elders were also unprepared, for they expected a leader to rise from the quarrel, but they died without passing their heritage to the next generation. Therefore, the herd was scattered, to each their own and without the protection of all.

Well, that was depressing.

The spirit must have known my questioning of why this tale was spoken and so he turned and asked me, "What is your interpretation of this tale?" I sat there for a moment in silence, processing what I just heard. Immediately, my human mind wanted to question the plot holes, the nihilistic and pessimistic worldview, and why this has anything to do with me.

I replied, "Well, the mother took away the twin's opportunity to prepare for their fated encounter," I began thinking aloud, "The elders could have come up with a different solution–surely, there could be two rulers. I mean, there were multiple elders! And the twins could have chosen not to fight. They could have let the herd break apart while they saved themselves. There were so many different ways to handle this."

"Of course, how can one truly prepare for what they will face in this life?" The spirit asked, "Is wisdom gained through knowledge or experience?"

"Both," I responded. "Right? It has to be both."

"Is what you experience the same as somebody else?" he asked. "Would two people who have the same knowledge but different life experiences be prepared to do the exact same thing with the exact same enthusiasm?"

I didn't respond. It felt as if the spirit took a deep breath in, and then said, "You appear to have a lot of experiences you were not prepared for. You've also encountered people who have judged you harshly for handling the situations the way that you have..." another inhale, "and will. They are aware but not experienced in the same way you are. My dear, knowledge is knowing that alcohol can be deadly, and those who abuse it can wreak great havoc on those around them. Wisdom is understanding why the alcohol is being abused to begin with as you, yourself, stare down the neck of the bottle."

I felt my lip quiver but held back the onslaught of emotions coming through. "Sir, what is your point?"

I couldn't see his physical form, but I could feel his smile as he said, "My point is sometimes, there is no right or wrong answer. Only what is, and we won't know until we're in the moment itself what is right and what is wrong. What is right for you could be wrong for the other person... in the moment."

"So, what we feel is right could change as we gain wisdom?" I asked. I felt a hand grip my shoulder in a reassuring gesture. "Sir, what is your name?"

"You can call me The Keeper of the Tales."

"...Thank you."

And with that, the presence left me. I sat there for a minute longer on my own, digesting the experience. Then, I thanked the rock, the Landvættir for guiding me to that place, and then I continued upward and back toward humanity.

ᛉ

You have made it to the end.

[westheskald]

When the morning comes

They will have it all stripped

Away from soul and bone

We must part ways love

Once they get off our tail

I'll see you in his hall

When the fighting starts

And the wolf will be set free

And feed them to this war

feed them to his jaw

And the raven comes

the black bird will prey

and see you in the dark

they will see you in the dark

And the runes are carved

in the mountainside in red

remembered in their sound

remembered in their song

And the Gods are there

on the field of our land

from cradle to grave

they will see you in the dark

[westheskald]

I would love to hear you sing the gods' praises one of these days/Tumblr posts. I adore creaky and imperfect voices.

devotional thoughts 1/???

I do not sing well

my voice is not tuned to sing beautifully, or in time

but I sing for my gods all the same

I sing songs for them

As token and devotion

all in one

my songs are for them

I do not sing well

my voice is not beautiful

or tuned

it creaks and cracks

the words come out jumbled

and sometimes mumbled

but i sing all the same

for my gods and my kin

so they may hear

that they have lived on

I do not sing well

but my voice is for them

and for them i sing

[westheskald]

tell me how many pieces you were broken into;

i want to know how many versions of you i will have to love.

Fernando Machado, "The Epitaph of Our Love".

[westheskald]

Hail to the Old Gods;

The ancient ones, Deities of forest, mountain, and sea, for whom my ancestors poured from their ram horns.

Hail to the god of emotions, who teaches us when to embrace chaos and when to refrain for the moment.

Hail to the goddess of seiðr, who holds the key of divination in the waves of her golden hair trailing down her breasts.

Hail to the god of strength, guardian of the deer herds, who teaches me when to cry for help and when to stand and gore. Hail to the Allfather, whose unconventional wisdom hurt me greatly in the moment, but saved my soul from perpetual insanity through the binding of runes.

(Thank you all for everything)

Hail to the Old Gods.

[westheskald]

The Wisdom of Odin

A wise man

is not showy about his wisdom;

he guards is carefully.

He is silent when he comes

to a stranger's home.

The wise man seldom wanders into harm,

for you can never have

a more faithful friend

than a good supply of wisdom.

Havamal - 6

[westheskald]

Divine Mother of All there is, whose essence Lies within us all and in all things.

Please fill this place with Your sacred light and presence.

Please protect me and heal me.

Please bring me to wholeness and wisdom.

Make this a day of fresh starts, new beginnings.

Melt all obstacles in my path--gently, gracefully, lovingly.

Reconnect me to my highest self.

Awaken me to what I need to know next.

Let my higher self select and connect with the divine energy that is right for me, right now.

May I be uplifted and empowered by Your Love.

So be it and so it is.

-Laurie Sue Brockway,

[westheskald]

A poem or song I wrote about the ideal of selfless devotion (to a person, romantic partner, cause, god etc etc)

When you carry the weight of the truth

Itʼs the lies that will break down your door

When you get to the fork in the road

And you take the path unpaved

You know that living for something more

Doesnʼt mean that youʼll be saved

sacrifice

Against time

Iʼll make mine

Itʼs hard to live with the burden of truth

When the sleepers just wonʼt wake

You know itʼs bigger than yourself

And you canʼt just go your own way

When youʼre living for something more

Oh the risks that you will take

[westheskald]

A beauteous depiction.

Source: VK.com

[westheskald]

Thor is such an awesome patron. I literally can't sing his praises enough. Ever since I've been able to identify his presence and I have really been in tune with his presence, he's been just the best patron deity a girl could ask for.

I can feel his presence when I go on my walks, when I wear my mjölnir, when I am sad, or when I need advice. I feel him with me when I light his candle, or when I listen to "Twilight of the Thunder God" and/or "Valhalla Calling".

He will always be there for me. He's listened to my prayers when I have been upset; he has listened to my prayers when I have been happy. He was there for me when I performed in college for the first time. I cannot thank my patron enough for all the fatherly/patronly love he has given me.

Hail Thor!

[westheskald]

To the sunset berg of singin' graves

You're the Lord and God of rain

The Gods to whom owe the sake of men

And the mighty Gods the same

By the thunder of his journey

May we hallow in his name

Wherever he is caring

May he keep us brothers safe

With hair aflame of giant's fame

Your mighty hammer falls

And those you've slain will feed the ground

And nurture our heart

And bravery will flourish

And to no fear may bow

We bring to you in friendship

A gift of blood and toil

For all the years you've given us

And all the years to come