Odin: Ecstasy, Runes, & Norse Magic - Diana L. Paxson 2017

Desired One

Speak fairly and be free with wealth

If you will win a woman's love.

Praise the looks of the lovely lass.

Win by wooing.

—Hávamál 92

Though Odin always returns to Frigg, he is often involved with female figures in his wanderings. In books about Norse mythology, descriptions of Odin stress his role as the ruler of Asgard and leader of the warriors who will fight at Ragnarök. As we shall see in chapter 7, all this is true, but a look at the lore will show that more often than any other Germanic god, Odin interacts with women. His interest is not limited to sex. He is even more likely to go to them in search of wisdom. He connects with humans, goddesses, and giant-kin, and he is the primary god for many Heathen women today.

Under “pleasure names,” Price lists Oski (god of wishes, fulfiller of desire), Sadh or Sann (the true one), Thekk (pleasant, much liked, clever), Unn or Udh (lover, beloved), Njótr (user, enjoyer), and Glapsvidhr (seducer) (Price 2002, 105). Although “Harbard” is a misleading choice from among Odin's names, in the Vikings TV series, the character who goes by that name certainly takes Oski's role in fulfilling women's desires.

Here we might also place Jolnir (Yule being) and Wunsch (wish), a 13th-century medieval personification, possibly derived from the same root as Wunjo, the rune for joy. As described by Grimm, “The sum total of well-being and blessedness, the fullness of all graces, seems in our ancient language to have been expressed by a single word, whose meaning has since been narrowed down; it was named wunsch (wish)” (Grimm 1966, I:138). In the poetry, God gives “Wish” the power to create perfection. Every Yule, my kindred sings to this composite figure as the German Weihnachtsmann, “Man of the Holy Night.” For the music, see appendix 2.

Since I live in Berkeley, I am always amused when I encounter references to “Oski,” the Golden Bear who is the mascot for the University of California. The name seems to have come from the “Oski Yell.” At football games, the mascot is fond of making mischief and flirting with girls. Given that Bjorn, “Bear,” and Bjarki, “Little Bear,” are listed by Price among Odin shape-shifter names, my friends and I tend to view him as an aspect of Odin. Flowers are sometimes left in front of his statue before an especially important game.

Fig. 13. “Oski,” the University of California totem bear, with name

embroidered on jacket (from the UC Alumni display)

In the course of his adventures, Odin is linked with goddesses, giantesses, and mortal women. This may or may not involve “knowing” them in the biblical sense. I think that what really drives him is a lust for knowledge. Whether the connection includes sex or not, in the relationships that we know about, he usually has a purpose that goes beyond simply getting laid.

When I first started working with Odin, one of the first things he did was to put me in touch with his wife and his old girlfriends. Here are some of the things I learned.

Frigg

Those who have only encountered Odin's wife as the ball-busting Fricka in the first two Ring operas may wonder what he sees in her. Wagner portrays her as an even bitchier version of the Greek Hera—the archetypal jealous wife, forever scheming to keep her long-suffering husband from wandering. It is said that the characterization was modeled on Wagner's relationship with his first wife, Minna, who had good reason to complain.

As we encounter Frigg in the lore, we find a very different figure. Her name comes from the old word for love. (c.f. Old English, frigu, love. “Frigga” spelled with an “a” is an incorrect, though very common, version.) The relationship between Odin and his wife is one of mutual respect, and their only recorded quarrels are political.

If Frigg is not to be viewed as a jealous bitch, how should we see her? The references that are made to her in the surviving literature, though not copious, provide some interesting insights. In Lokasenna, we are told that Frigg is the daughter of a giant, Fjorgynn. The feminine name Fjorgyn is also given to Jordh, Earth. Either way, Frigg comes of giant-kin. By ancestry she is therefore an earth goddess, appropriate mate, and counterpart to a god who rides the skies. Many of Frigg's qualities, such as her rooted stability and deep wisdom, seem to derive from this earthy origin.

Loki accuses Frigg of having lived with Odin's brothers (Vili and Vé) while he was away (an episode that also appears in the Younger Edda and Saxo's history of the Danes). Since Frigg is otherwise thought of as a model of fidelity, some speculate that the “brothers” are really aspects of Odin. I would offer another possibility: If Frigg is an earth goddess, the territory to which she is linked is that of the Æsir, and she carries its sovereignty. In that case, her polyandrous association with Vili and Vé would give them the legal and spiritual right to reign without interrupting Odin's sovereignty. “Vé,” the holiness of place or spiritual focus, and “Vili,” the Will that rules, remain with the goddess in Asgard while the ecstatic “Wod” wanders the worlds.

Though Frigg may stay quietly at home, she has been known to take an interest in the affairs of humankind. In the 8th-century history of the Lombards written by Paul the Deacon, we are told that for some reason Odin was against that tribe. Frigg instructed the women to come out with their hair bound beneath their chins. When Odin asked, “Who are these long-beards?” she declared that since he had named them, he was obliged to gift their army with victory.

Even better known is the story told in Grimnismál. Odin and Frigg had taken under their protection two brothers, Agnar, protected by Frigg, and Geirrod, who was favored by Odin. Through Odin's counsel, Geirrod cheated Agnar out of his heritage and became king, while Agnar ended up in the wilderness. To even the score, Frigg accuses Geirrod of lacking in the primary Germanic virtue of hospitality, and dares Odin to prove it by showing up incognito. She then sends her handmaiden Fulla to warn the king that a dangerous sorcerer is wandering about, who can be recognized because no dog will attack him. Naturally, when Odin shows up at Geirrod's door, the dogs cower before the Lord of Wolves, and the king, determined to find out what is going on, seizes the stranger and orders him to explain himself.

Odin will say no more than that his name is Grimnir, the Hidden One, so Geirrod has him bound to a stake between two fires. When he has roasted there for eight nights, the king's young son can no longer stand the crime against hospitality, brings the stranger a horn of mead, and sets him free. Odin's first response is to declare that the sovereignty has passed from the king to his son. Then, as if to make up for his silence, the god gives us forty-seven stanzas of lore. Geirrod, finally realizing just who he has been tormenting, jumps up, trips, and stabs himself with his own sword.

In his poem “Sonatorrek,” Egil Skallagrimsson refers to the dwellers in Asgard as “Frigg's descendants.” But though she may be regarded as “All-mother,” we know of only one child born of her body—Baldr the Beautiful. The story of his untimely end is also the myth in which Frigg plays the most active role.

When Odin has returned from Hel with the Völva's interpretation of Baldr's dreams, Frigg acts to save her son by exacting oaths from all things to do him no harm—or rather, almost all. Unfortunately, after completing this labor, she undermines her own action by confessing to an old hag that she has neglected to take an oath from the lowly mistletoe. Of Frigg it is said that she knows all fates, though she does not tell what she knows (Lokasenna 29). One cannot help but wonder why, in that case, she does not realize that her efforts to save her son will be fruitless, or that the “hag” is really Loki, or that telling him about the mistletoe will bring about the very tragedy she is trying to prevent. Her failure to save Baldr is Frigg's first great sorrow, as the claims of motherhood give way to those of wyrd. Her second sorrow, of course, will be her inability to save her husband at Ragnarök (Völuspá 52).

Frigg is called first among the ásynjur (the goddesses). The sense I have of her is that she is the still center to which Odin, in all his wanderings, can always return. She has been called All-mother, an appellation which seems especially appropriate when we consider that the twelve “handmaidens” whom Snorri associates with her can, in fact, be viewed either as separate figures or as hypostases or aspects of the goddess herself—personae that she adopts to play a more active role.

Sága

One of these aspects, or handmaidens, is Sága, who in the Younger Edda is listed second after Frigg herself. Sága lives in Sokkvabek (Sunken Hall), “a very big place.” In Grimnismál 7 we are told,

Sokkvabekk the fourth is called,

where waters cool roll round about;

there Odin and Sága drink every day,

glad from golden cups.

I suspect that while Odin and Sága are drinking together, they are trading stories. According to the Icelandic-English Dictionary, the name Sága is

akin to segja (to say) and saga, which is a story, tale, legend, history. The very word owes its origin to the fact that the first historical writings were founded on tradition only; the written record was a “saga” or legend committed to writing; the story thus written was not even new, but had already taken shape and had been told to many generations under the same name. (Cleasby and Vigfusson 1874)

One can picture them matching beers and competing to see who can outlast the other in capacity both for booze and for stories. We are familiar with Odin's role as a patron of poetry, but his friendship with Sága gives him a connection to prose narrative as well.

Freyja

Odin's relations with his wife are well documented. Except for the “endless battle” story in the Flateyjarbók, his relationship with Freyja can only be inferred, but the idea that an involvement existed is accepted by many Heathens today. For evidence, we look at Völuspá and Lokasenna in the Elder Edda and Snorri's account of the early history of the Æsir in Ynglingasaga.

In stanza 21 of Völuspá, the seeress who is recounting the ancient tales for Odin tells of the “first war of the world.” Oddly enough, it begins not with a challenge by men but with the arrival of a mysterious female called Gullveig (“Gold drunk” or “Gold power”), who walks into the Hall of Hár. The response is not hospitable:

Gullveig with spears they stabbed

And in the hall of Hár burned her.

Thrice she was burned, thrice reborn,

Often, over, and yet she lives.

The following stanza suggests why:

Heidh she is called when she comes to houses,

Völva and spae-woman. Gand she knew,

Seið she understood, messed with minds by Seið,

Ever was she dear to ill-working women.

In other words, she was a witch, wielding a kind of magic the Æsir did not understand. Gullveig and Heidh may be seen as separate figures, but Lindow (2001, 155) and a number of other scholars conclude that at least in this passage they are names or titles of Freyja. After she leaves, the gods meet to discuss whether they should pay tribute, and decide to fight the first war in the world. Odin casts his spear over the enemy, but the Vanir are clearly winning.

For what happens next we must turn to Ynglingasaga 4, where we learn that after some inconclusive fighting, they held negotiations in which they exchanged hostages to guarantee the peace. The hostages sent by the Vanir were Njordh and Frey. With them came Frey's sister Freyja. “She was a priestess and she first taught the Asaland people seidh, which was in use with the Vanir.” Since a page or two later we are told that Odin practiced seidh, he must have learned it from Freyja.

That this relationship also included sex can be concluded from Loki's assertion at Aegir's famous party that Freyja has slept with every male in the room. This may or may not have been a problem. As her father Njordh points out in her defense, “It is no crime that a woman have both husband and lover” (Lokasenna 33).

In the Sörla Tháttr, an episode included in the Flateyjarbók, which was written down in the 14th century, Freyja is a mortal woman, the concubine of “King Odin.” To win the wonderful necklace Brisingamen, she spends a night with each of the dwarves who forged it. Following Odin's orders, Loki steals it. To win it back, Freyja must cause two kings and their men to engage in endless battle. The poem Húsdrápa offers another version in which Heimdall and Loki fight in the form of seals, and Heimdall recovers the necklace.

This is not the only association of Freyja with battle. In the survey of the homes of the gods with which Odin begins his download of the lore in Grimnismál 14, we learn that

Fólkvangr (the field full of folk) is the ninth, where Freyja decides

Who shall sit where in the hall.

Half of the slain she chooses each day,

And half Odin has.

Today, most people seem to think that Freyja chooses first. In the words of Lorrie Wood's Freyja song,

Weeping gold, you walk the world now,

Falcon-winged, ply windy ways.

Ygg's men fight, but none can say how

Freyja's first-picked spend their days.

But what does she want them for? Again, we can only speculate. The lore does not say what happens to the goddesses after Ragnarök. Perhaps the warriors who drink in Sessrumnir (Freyja's “many-seated” hall) will guard her as she helps to rebuild the world.

The final question about Freyja's relationship with Odin has to do with her mysterious husband, Ódh. The only thing we know about their marriage is that he gave her two daughters and then disappeared. Eventually she went after him. In Gylfaginning 35, Snorri explains that she (like Odin) has so many bynames because she “adopted many names when she was travelling among strange peoples looking for Ódh.”

The fact that the name of Freyja's husband is the first syllable of Odin's name does make one wonder. As Patty Lafayllve puts it in her book about Freyja:

Important in this case are two concepts, the first a question: are Od and Odin one and the same? There is no real answer to this, but as shall be seen, Odin and Freyja have quite a lot in common . . . it is interesting to consider that Freyja traveled many worlds seeking her spiritual arousal (or, to stretch the metaphor, an ecstatic state of inspiration). This author often wonders if all these realms were in the mundane world. (Lafayllve 2006, 50)

Given the kind of magic Freyja was teaching him, the relationship between her and Odin must have transcended physical sexuality. If Frigg provides an enduring stability, I think that Freyja is the one who challenges Odin and pushes him beyond his boundaries, and perhaps he does the same for her. When we are doing trance work with both Freyja and Odin, the priestess of Freyja has been known to take charge and calm the mediums carrying Odin when they get too boisterous—in one case, threatening to “take back every bit of magic I taught you” if the god did not return the medium to normal consciousness once more.

In modern Heathenry, Freyja seems to be second only to Odin as a recruiter. I know of at least as many people who have dedicated themselves to her as to him. Some of those who follow her are hostile to Odin, but sometimes the god and the goddess work together, as in the case of a dream a male friend on the Troth members' list, who is just getting into Heathenry, sent to me.

So, not very long ago I was into Germanic Mythology as an interest, not a belief. One night I had this dream. I was running through a village, which looked like it could be in England, New England, or Europe. As I was running I looked down, and my deceased dogs materialized beside me. They led me inside a house which had a rich golden light and beautiful hardwood floors. The walls were a glimmering ivory.

I felt the warm presence of family and friends, but I didn't get a chance to look at anyone, because I was distracted by my pet cat (who I had to put down earlier that year); he kept rubbing on me and getting underfoot. He also kept climbing into a pine tree which was indoors and set up like a Yule tree or a Christmas tree, while a woman was trying to tie ribbons on its branches.

She giggled as he was climbing inside the tree. Her hair was braided which led to a bun on the back of her head. Her hair was a golden-reddish yellow color that emitted the same color light. Her face looked like the face of every beautiful woman I've ever seen. She seemed very sweet and loving, but also had this intense sexual energy about her; the kind in which a guy would have to tell himself to not be too enamored by her, because she'd unintentionally break his heart. Better to know her as just a friend and nothing more. Not even a lover in the most casual sense.

I woke up from that dream, and I asked myself who that woman was, and something told me it was Freya. It made sense, of course that my cat would go to her, as her sleigh is pulled by cats. Then I realized that she was putting ribbons on a Yule tree. The following day, just for fun I did a Google image search of “Yule,” and I came across an image: It was a picture of a cat curled up in front of a roaring fire with the words “May your Yule and Winter Solstice be warm and bright,” signed, “Odin.”

I'm aware of the intended humor in the image. But the cat in this picture could've very well been mine, and the picture looks like it could've been a scene from my dream. I know a person made this image, and it wasn't Odin himself. And I think Odin means it in an ironic sort of way, to confuse me, as I've always thought of him as a tough love kind of guy. Maybe he has that type of humor in which you don't know if he's being serious or pulling your leg.

I think the way signs work is that they are things which are to be found by someone in a kind of sequence, after or before an event; in my case the dream. For me it's significant, because I've always felt closer to my pets than to most of my family. I've always been the oddball. I know, I know, my mysterious heathen dream is about my cat. Yes, I'm very aware how crazy this makes me sound. I know it's not an awesome dream in which Odin handed me a rune, or a dream about Thor slaying a giant with Mjolnir. I've never been the guy who puts on a macho front, I don't try to be anyone I'm not. To tell you the truth, I really miss that little guy and my other animal family, and I am very grateful that they have taken refuge with Freya.

Gunnlödh

Odin's affairs with goddesses seem to have been conducted on equal terms. Some of his relations with other females are problematic, although in at least one case—his attempt to seduce the daughter of Billing, a lady who “had sport of me with all manner of mockery, and I had not my way with her”—he failed (Hávamál 102). Odin is also acquainted with giantesses. When he trades insults with Thor in Harbardsliodh 18, he tells of his visit to the island Algroen (All-green), where, unlike Thor, he has been seducing giantesses instead of slaying them. He alone is able to win their lust and their love.

It is tempting to cherry-pick the lore and skip those episodes that show Odin's darker side. We will be considering his reputation as a seducer in more detail when I discuss Odin as Bölverk in chapter 8. Here, however, I want to examine the motivation behind his visit to Gunnlödh and see if it can be, if not excused, at least viewed in a more positive light. The poem that precedes this chapter is my attempt to understand how Odin came to lie with her and what each of them got out of the exchange.

Among the deeds of Odin, three are especially famed because they result in gifts to humankind. One of them, as we have already seen, was acquiring the runes. In chapter 10, I tell you the story of how Odin gave his eye to gain wisdom. The third achievement is the winning of the mead of poetry. Part of the tale is told rather allusively in Hávamál 104—110. In parts 57—8 of Skaldskaparmál, we find the full story.

The mead of poetry is the product of a complicated series of events that occur during the conclusion of the war between the Æsir and the Vanir. It eventually comes into the possession of the giant Suttung, who stores it in three cauldrons, called Odhroerir, Bodn, and Son (in Norse mythology, everything has a name), hidden in a cave inside a mountain and guarded by his daughter Gunnlödh. Odin enters the mountain in the form of a serpent, using the name Bölverk.

Bölverk went to where Gunnlödh was and slept with her for three nights, and she granted him three drinks of the mead. In the first he drank everything in Odhroerir, in the second everything in Bodn, in the third everything in Son, and so he had all the mead. Then he changed himself into an eagle and flew off as quickly as he could, but when Suttung saw the eagle flying, he changed himself into an eagle and flew after him. But when the Æsir saw where Odin was flying, they put their barrel out front, and when Odin came over Asgard, he spat up the mead into the barrel. But Suttung was so close to catching him that he sent some mead out the back, and this was not saved. Everyone who wished had some of that, and it is called the bad poets' share. But Odin gave the mead to the Æsir and to those humans who could compose verse. (Lindow 2001, 225)

Two points occur to me when I read this tale. The first is that Gunnlödh is a giantess. The fact that Thor fights more female than male giants would suggest that they are well able to defend themselves, so what happened in that cave was certainly not a rape, though it might be a seduction. In Hávamál 106, Odin admits that he dealt her an evil reward for her good will and left her with a heavy heart, and later (110), that he broke a promise made on an oath-ring. “To Gunnlödh he brought sorrow.” Clearly what happened between them was something more than simple physical pleasure. The tone suggests that he felt love for her, as well, and regretted having to leave her.

Which brings us to a second point. For Odin, pain is not a deterrent. Again and again we see him risking and enduring it to achieve some greater goal. In this case, it was bringing to the world the gift of poetry, a fundamental part of Norse culture, and an art that has the power to teach the deepest truths. If leaving Gunnlödh hurt him as well as her, it was the price of doing business. Those who work with Odin today recognize that he cannot always spare them, but our experience is that he will share their pain.

Women of Wisdom

Freyja is not the only woman from whom Odin learns magic. In chapter 3, there was the passage from Lokasenna in which Loki accuses Odin of not only working with women but also of being like a woman as he worked seidh on Samsey Isle. Viewed from the deck of a boat, Samsø (off the east coast of Jutland) is an unimpressive gray blur on the horizon, but it had quite a reputation in Viking times as the burial place of Angantyr and his brother berserkers, the setting for the wonderful scene in Hervararsaga in which Hervor wakes her father from sleep in his grave-mound and demands his magic sword.

When Odin came there, he learned ecstatic practices, possibly trance induced by drumming and dancing, “like the völur” (plural of völva). One imagines a sisterhood of witches living on the isle. When Odin had learned their magic, he fared forth among men in the form of a vitki, a term that could mean a man of wisdom or a sorcerer, either a Gandalf or a Saruman. The stanza conjures images of an old earth magic, women's magic that was even less acceptable for a male than Odin's own galdor.

So Loki calls Odin “args adal,” having the quality of being effeminate, which is rather a laugh coming from the mother of Sleipnir, as Frigg implies in the next stanza when she tells the two of them to stop talking about their past. Argr, or ergi, is a complicated concept that I have tried to disambiguate in an article called “Sex, Status, and Seidh: Homosexuality in Germanic Religion” (1997). The term ergi was used as an insult, implying that one takes the receptive role in sex. Snorri's statement that formerly both men and women learned seidh but that by his time it was considered so ergi that it was only taught to priestesses (Ynglingasaga 7), indicates a decrease in status for women and any quality associated with them, possibly stimulated by the growing influence of Continental European Christian culture.

One of Odin's bynames that has puzzled students is “Jalk,” translated as “gelding,” which is surely one of the last terms one would expect to apply to the god. I am not alone in suspecting that this is the name he might have used on Samsey Isle.

Seeking the Seeress

If the völur of Samsey Isle sound like hedge witches, the Völva who speaks the prophecies of Völuspá seems to be considerably higher in status and nobler in kind. From the authority with which she demands whether Valfather wants her to recount the tales of ancient times to the final prophecy of Ragnarök, she lays it out in soaring poetry. She knows where Odin's eye is hid. She knows that Baldr will die and who will avenge him and the dreadful list of disasters that will herald the doom of the gods. And she is rewarded (Völuspá 29).

The father of armies gave rings and necklace,

(from her he) got spae spells and spae magic.

She sees widely over the worlds.

We do not know when and why Odin sought her counsel, but we do have some background for the other poem in which he seeks out a seeress. In Baldrs Draumar (the Dreams of Baldr), the gods meet to discuss why Odin's son is having bad dreams. When no one can explain them, Odin (traveling under the name of Vegtam) saddles Sleipnir and rides to the grave-mound of the Völva who is buried outside the eastern gate of Hel. As we know from Hávamál, he has spells that can compel the dead. He uses them to summon the seeress, who rises from her grave, complaining loudly at being disturbed. He asks about Baldr, and she foretells the whole story, until at last she realizes to whom she is talking and with an exchange of insults sends him on his way.

The fact that Odin is told exactly what will happen by the Völva and yet does nothing to prevent it is one of the mysteries of Norse mythology. One senses not only ambivalence in not only the motivations of Baldr's parents but also the workings of a wyrd so powerful that it binds even the highest gods.

In Wagner's Ring operas, the role of the Völva, who for some reason known only to Wagner is referred to as the Vala, is filled by the earth goddess Erda, summoned by Wotan at the beginning of act 3 of Siegfried. Their conversation is unproductive, since she first asks why Wotan has not gone to Brünnhilde for counsel. When he explains that the Valkyrie has been punished for disobedience, Erda grows confused, and when he asks how Wotan can avoid the coming destruction, she goes silent. Disappointed, he sends her back to sleep, proclaiming that he will cease to fight fate and allow Siegfried, free of the gods, to deal with the Ring.

As for Brünnhilde, we will see her and the valkyries again in chapter 7, when Odin goes to war.

Mortal Meetings

It is interesting that so many women are attracted to Odin, given that he is so masculine a god. Based on many conversations, my impression is that women, on the whole, may actually find it easier to connect with him than men do. In That Hideous Strength, C. S. Lewis has a character observe that we are all feminine in relation to God. I think that (except when he himself is being ergi) that may also be true of mortals who encounter Odin.

As we shall see in chapter 7, the wod ecstasy of the berserker was usually a masculine path, but these days, men as well as women are socialized to value calm and control. Whereas a woman who knows how to consent can open herself to Odin's ecstatic energy, when that divine wind begins to blow, many men react by trying to resist its power. Usually, the best advice is to either (try to) cut off contact with the god entirely or, as Heinlein used to put it, to “relax and cooperate with the inevitable.” Sara MacLachlan's song “Possession” was not written about Odin, but it expresses quite vividly the way some people feel toward him.

A woman may relate to Odin as an employer or a guardian, as a daughter to a father, or as a lover. This account describes the experience of one young woman who is just beginning to work with him.

My first experience with Odin was this: one summer day I was taking a shower and all of a sudden this really beautiful, strong tune came into my head (mind you, I don't write songs), and I was just like “Okay, cool” and kind of brushed it off. That night this really intense energy filled my room and Odin showed up and my first reaction was “Fuck,” just because the energy was so intense; I was a little bit scared. I asked if he wanted me to write him a song, he replied “Yes,” and I got on writing that song.

My first few times interacting with Odin were generally characterized by that intense energy and me being intimidated by it. About a year after Odin first showed up in my life, I went to an Odin devotional and that totally changed how I view him and how I interact with him now. During the devotional, Odin gave me some tools to help deal with some issues that were/are really hard for me. That night, I saw that Odin was much easier to connect with than I thought, he was very willing to help me with the things I needed help with, and to top it off loves math like I do.

I am beyond happy I went to the Odin devotional, as I now feel much more connected to him and feel much more comfortable actually working with him. Also, truthfully, at the devotional he still said/did things that could have been scary, but really they just pushed me to move through fear, so I guess it's much more my perspective of him that has changed, and since the devotional, I have started wearing a valknut and got a statue of two wolves for my altar, so I have been converted to an Odin fan.

For some, the experience of connecting with the god while in a trance state can have a sexual component, as energy flowing through the body may activate those centers as well. One priestess of Odin, asking for insight, received the following comments as dictation.

I take it what you want is how to pursue that ecstatic moment when all else drops away . . . and in nine easy lessons. Well, I'll give it to you in one: ergi. Reflect on this, this receptivity meant by the word. Think of it, not as unmanly, but as unmanning—the difference is profound.

Make of yourself a vessel. A vessel for what? Well, if you would experience the ecstasy of being one with a god, then you must be open to them, and that to which they connect. . . . Yes. You must make the way for the sea to be poured into a thimble, for the stars to all be held in a bucket of milk. You must make of yourself a vessel for the universe entire, and that is no small thing.

But that is what you seek, that is the way of it. Reflect on the concept of receptivity, and hollow yourself out so that your essence is . . . passive. Not unresponsive, but able to move out of the way. You can use Us to fill in what has been made empty by your own passing. Like any other act, it will be difficult on the first attempt. Like the nervous virgin, you will be tight and cannot hold much (and I have known very many spiritual virgins . . .). But, as you grow, the more you hold, the more you can hold, and the sooner you will attain that which you seek.

Still, it's very much like sex, so if you have hang-ups about that, they may come to haunt you here. They will come and live with you, filling up that space where you would have us live, where you would put all the universe you can stand. And that . . . will not do. But to open the way to ecstasy, make of yourself a vessel. Even I have done it, from time to time . . . although you can well imagine I can hold a little more than the average one of you, yes?

When you allow the universe, All that Is, to penetrate you for even one shining moment . . . or, by proxy for it, any of Us . . . you learn a little better how to respond to it the rest of the time. That's how you respect us in the morning: by remembering how to talk to us waking as well as you do when sleeping or meditating. Sex is good. Moments of mind-shattering ecstasy are wonderful (and I'm an expert). But it's the respect in the morning that really gets the job done as far as we're concerned.

Do you understand? It's important, it's what keeps the task going once the fun is just a memory.

Some women have made a formal commitment as a Godspouse. In Flateyjarbók, there is a story in which a temple of Frey is managed by a priestess who is known as the god's wife. There are also peasant traditions from Denmark, in which a maiden was “married” to a figure made from the last sheaf, representing Wodan and called “the Old Man” (de Vries 1931). So far as I know, the first to actually go through a marriage ritual with Odin in modern times was Freya Aswynn, author of Leaves of Yggdrasil and Powers and Principles of the Runes. She began to sense Odin's presence in the early 1980s, when she was still practicing Wicca and the Western Mystery tradition, and dedicated herself to him. In 1993, she suffered a psychic assault that “astrally” disconnected her. This is how she describes it.

One day I woke up and Odin was gone! So far as I was concerned, I was finished and ready to “go and see him in person” and find out what the f*** was going on. As I was contemplating my one-way ticket to Asgard, my wolf brother rang up with some question or comment about Valkyries, and he intuited that something was very wrong.

He went out on a vision quest and contacted Odin about this matter. Odin showed him a little crusted cap of some rust colored material on my crown chakra. Kveldulfr was instructed by Odin to strike it with Gungnir, the cap burst apart and I was back to normal. I was however very anxious about the fact that any asshole with a grudge could disconnect me from Odin, my Inner Plane contact. I was thinking about finding a way to eliminate this possibility forever, well at least for this incarnation. I had the idea, but not quite the audacity, to suggest it.

I had read in Voodoo literature that devotees sometimes “married” the Loa. At the same time, I knew that in Sweden in the Middle Ages a female priestess was considered by all to be the bride of Frey and drove around with a cart and Frey's statue. When I very subtly questioned Kveldulfr, by coincidence he had come across “Contributions to the Study of Othin” by Jan de Vries. In this was mention of a ritual involving the “last sheaf” and Wodan. After due consideration and various consultations, we decided that this was the only way for me to progress, both esoterically as well as for personal spiritual growth. On the 28th of November 1993, with a small circle of kinsfolk in attendance, I was married to Wodan. The ceremony was based on a traditional agricultural harvest rite, written and researched by Kveldulfr Gundarsson. The vows I took are personal.

From the beginning in '83, I somehow always was aware of his presence. This became even stronger after the wedding until 2002 or thereabouts, then life went to shit and I had to fight for my survival in the mundane. He was still there though. I always had and have access to His guidance and I even surprise myself as to the accuracy of my Rune Readings. In addition to this, I have ever since my wedding been in excellent health considering my age, which is sixty-seven.

The role of god-spouse is not an easy path. In recent years, the idea has been adopted by people from a number of Pagan traditions, working with various deities. It involves the same level of commitment as a monogamous human marriage, or perhaps more, since so much of the relationship is interior. In Voudoun, marriage with one of the loa (the Powers of that tradition) is modeled on a human wedding, with a marriage contract that lists the responsibilities of each partner. This is actually a good idea when making any kind of oath to a god, especially to Odin, who will hold you to your word even if you didn't necessarily understand what you were letting yourself in for. On the other hand, just as a mortal marriage may come to an end when one partner moves on, even those who have made a public and formal commitment to Odin sometimes find that he has released them or even passed them on to another god. Except in his relationship with Frigg, he is not noted for fidelity.

For a deeper discussion of oaths and initiations, see appendix 1.

I myself have never been called to make this particular commitment. By the time I realized how deeply connected to Odin I had become, a formal recognition seemed redundant. My status is more like that of one of his old girlfriends, and I think that leaving me with apparent freedom makes it easier for him to work through me in connecting to other Powers.

Odin may not be visible, but a relationship with him is very real and may cause difficulties in the human partner's other relationships. Taking this step requires careful negotiation. For a discussion of the issues, see the collection of articles under the link for godspousery at https://darkam-berdragon.wordpress.com, especially those from Beth Lynch.

Oski is the Desired One, but what do we desire? We have spoken here of Odin and women, but gender is not relevant when an empty heart desires to be filled.

The gifts we ask of him as the Jul being are not the ones we want when the crops have failed or the foe is at the gates. When Odin follows his desires, almost invariably it is because a greater purpose must be served.

Practice

1. Hold a dinner party for Oski.

The dinner can be for two or a feast to which you invite others who honor him. Set a place for each guest, including one for the god. At one ritual that happened to be on Sadie Hawkins Day (February 29), we also set places for each of the goddesses with whom Odin has a relationship.

As you eat and drink, tell stories that honor him. A color scheme of blue and silver will set the scene. Serve whatever delicacies you feel he would like. Drinks may include red wine, akvavit, or mead. When dinner is over, set the contents of Odin's plate outside where they may be consumed by local ravens and wolves or their equivalents.

2. Bless a cup of mead, then sit down and write a poem.

It does not have to be complicated—free verse or simple four-beat alliterative lines like the ones in the poem below will give you the right to taste the mead. The topic can be Odin, or love, or simply something that moves you.

3. Fifth Night Meditation: The Desired One

Set up your altar as usual and light an orange candle. You may combine this practice with the feast for Odin described above. Then say:

Odin, by these names I call you:

Oski (God of Wishes, Fulfiller of Desire)

Sadh or Sann (True One)

Thekk (Pleasant, Much Liked, Clever)

Unn or Udh (Lover, Beloved)

Njótr (User, Enjoyer)

Glapsvidhr (Seducer)

Oski, our/my desires fulfilling,

Welcome, Wish-father, to our/my hall!

To Thy delight let us/me drink deeply—

Thekk, our/my thanks we/I offer thee!

Or

Wild as the wind Your ecstasy,

Deep as the sea my desire.

Solid as stone Your love for me,

my need more fierce than fire.

This moment is set apart for you,

I open my heart and my hall.

Joy is a gift I give back to you,

Odin, I offer You all.

Close your eyes and think about what you have just said. What things do you desire—the desires that are created by need not frivolities. What do you want and why do you want it? Who would it benefit, and what would you be willing to give to the god to achieve your desire? When your thoughts are clear, sit quietly, counting your breaths and opening your heart for his reply.

The Head-Ransom

Lord, hearken to't

(Well beseems that),

What song I've wrought,

If there's silence got.

Most men heard say

How the King made fray;

But Odin saw

Where the slain men lay.

Wax'd rattle of swords

With clank of wards;

Sour wax'd round Lord:

Lord ranged for'rd.

Heard was the croon

Of the iron-storm's tune:

Sword-river's moan,

Where the spate swirl'd down.

No jot waver'd

The web dart-broider'd,

Where the King's merry

Spear-fields serry,

In bloody shallows

’Neath banners wallows

Seal's plain, and thunder

Gives tongue from under.

On the shore the folk sink

’Neath javelins’ clink,

Loud fame gat

Eric from that.

—verses from “The Head-Ransom”

by Egil Skallagrimsson, translated by E. R. Eddison

(1930, 1968)

Fig. 14. Sigfather