A Handbook of Saxon Sorcery & Magic: Wyrdworking, Rune Craft, Divination & Wortcunning - Alaric Albertsson 2017

Runes Beyond the Hall
Runes and Rúncræft

The early English distinguished the safety of the hall and the land immediately surrounding it from the wild útlandes, or “outlands.” Safety, familiarity, and cultural identity were associated with physical proximity to the mead-hall. Distant lands were not necessarily evil, but they were mysterious and potentially hazardous, and the people of the outlands were certain to have outlandish (útlendisc) customs and behaviors.

For strangers, the lands they traveled through were the outlands. An unwary traveler could be waylaid by bandits. There was often no way for a traveler to know how he or she would be received, if there would be a meal that evening or a dry place to sleep. Most people did not travel any distance without a very good cause to do so.

Today, in our modern society, the concept of “outland” is not always directly related to physical location. The people who live near you—your neighbors—are usually not related to you. Shared values or cultural identity are coincidental. My own neighbors are all outlanders, and I do not say this in a disparaging way. I am certain that many of my own Pagan values and customs are “outlandish” from their perspective! Today most of us live among outlanders, and there is nothing wrong with this. Diversity can be a good thing for those who accept that everyone does not have to be like everybody else.

We step into the outland whenever we go to the cinema or the supermarket. Even those who have never lived outside their parents’ zip codes or who have never knowingly met somebody of a different faith or sexual orientation understand and accept on some level that outlanders pass through “their” territory constantly. Nevertheless, we are all expected to observe a myriad of conventions when in public. Most of these conventions are intended to keep peace as we travel through our mutual, shared outlands. We know it is rude to stare openly at behaviors that do not directly threaten us, even if those behaviors seem strange, and most of us take care to avoid dressing or behaving in ways that are likely to offend our neighbors. Because of these conventions, there is little danger to us when we are in public among strangers. But danger was an ever-present threat to the pre-Christian Saxons whenever they ventured far from the mead-hall. The traveler entered the outland only when there was some pressing need. Travelers prepared for the journey knowing that anything could be encountered, even the gods.

NÍED: Need

(NEE-ed)

Phonetic Value: n, as in no

Níed biþ nearu on bréostan,

weorþeþ híe þeah oft níþa bearnum

tó helpe and tó hæle gehwæþre,

gif híe his hlystaþ æror.

Need is oppressive on the heart,

although it often befalls this affliction of men

to help and to heal somewhat,

if it is heard beforehand.

Life was indeed hard for the Saxons in early England. Most of us today could not survive the conditions under which the Saxons struggled. The same event that opened British lands for settlement—the collapse of Rome in the fifth century—also left those lands with no law or social stability. Fighting often erupted, and the typical Englishman had only a spear and a seax to protect himself. If he was lucky, he wore a leather jerkin to help deflect an assailant’s weapons.

No matter what the outcome, a skirmish could herald starvation if a village’s fields and gardens were trampled in the fighting. In Saxon England, pigs roamed loose and hens roosted in the trees. Livestock would flee amidst the violence and could easily be lost forever.

Even if peace reigned throughout the year, Saxon villages often suffered from drought, late frosts, or any number of diseases that could afflict crops, animals, or people. Need was a constant companion, departing occasionally but always sure to return. It was an unavoidable evil, but the Saxons knew that need can also be a source of motivation. It is the recognition of need that drives men to accomplishment.

The mystery of níed is illustrated in the legends of Robin Hood. The earliest ballads mentioning this English folk hero date to the fourteenth century, but his origins predate those ballads. The earliest tales that would eventually evolve into the legends of Robin Hood were stories of the Elves, or nature spirits. Some scholars have even associated Robin Hood with the god Woden, although this connection is indirect at best. Robin Hood does have the status of a hero or demigod in English folklore, and in the earliest ballads we see him acting on the principle of níed. Robin Hood is described from the beginning as an outlaw and a thief, but he never robs from those suffering from poverty. Instead he robs the wealthy abbots and then gives that wealth to the destitute. He is a hero because he is motivated “to help and to heal,” as the Rune Poem says.

Early chroniclers described Robin Hood in various locations and times, but legend eventually placed him in Nottinghamshire in the late twelfth century, during the reign of Richard the Lionheart. It was a time of extreme social and economic inequity. England had been under Norman rule for over a hundred years, and the Saxon commoners were broken by the high taxes demanded to fund Richard’s participation in the Third Crusade. It was a time of great need; a time when a hero such as Robin Hood would stand out. It is that need which inspires the acts of Robin Hood and his men. They rob not for amusement or out of greed, but to ease the despair of the Saxon underclass.

In form, the níed rune is an upright stroke, crossed with a shorter angled stroke. The upright stroke is the is rune, the warning of potential danger. The angled stroke shows us that the danger has fallen upon us, breaking the upright in two.

Níed is never a welcome rune in a divination. It indicates some hardship or loss ahead. However, the Rune Poem also gives the querent advice as to how to meet the coming challenge. It reminds the querent that he or she can embody the spirit of the legendary Robin Hood and take steps “to help and to heal” before the hardship manifests itself. The querent need not—and should not—wait helplessly; níed calls for the querent to take action.

I would not use níed in any rúncræft of my own devising. Although need can foster positive actions, what this rune creates is not positive action but the need and despair itself. I can think of people I believe might be motivated in a positive way by the níed rune. I am sure you can too. But no matter how we look at it, no matter how benign our motives, this is a cursing rune. If you want to enshroud yourself with that doom, so be it, but you will have to work out the details on your own.

When contemplating this rune, envision a few people moving through the wilderness. They are exposed to the elements, and you know they are hungry. You can feel it gnawing in your gut. You can see the despair in their eyes. And yet their need drives them onward, into the outland. They move forward, taking action to help and to heal their dilemma.

RÁD: Ride

(RAD)

Phonetic Value: r, as in roar

Rád byþ on recyde rinca gehwylcum

sefte ond swiþhwæt ðamðe sitteþ on ufan

meare mægenheardum ofer milpaþas.

The ride up to every man’s hall is

comfortable and very fast for he who sits high on

a mighty horse over the miles.

Before we examine this rune it might be a good idea to review the eh (horse) rune that we discussed in the Animal Rune chapter. The connection between these two runes is self-evident. We saw that the eh rune represents an ally that somehow empowers the querent. This ally could be a motor vehicle, or it could be a horse. The ally could even be the “mighty horse” spoken of in this passage of the Rune Poem describing rád.

But rád is not the means to embark on the journey. It is the journey itself. The method of travel is unimportant. Rád can be a journey in a cart or wagon, or even by ship. This Old English word has the alternate meaning of “road.” We can, in fact, substitute “the road” for “the ride” without changing the meaning of this passage of the Rune Poem in any substantial way. The mystery of rád is not embodied in an animal or any natural phenomenon. It is embodied in action.

In the Rune Poem, the mystery of this action, this journey, has two conditions or qualities. It is firstly a ride to “every man’s hall” (recyde rinca gehwylcum). The journey’s end is not some battle or a random location in the wilderness; this is a journey home. The home, of course, is symbolic and not necessarily a reference to one’s physical residence. The journey leads to a spiritual home, to a place where the sojourner is meant to be.

It is the mystery of the journey home that endeared millions of people to Victor Fleming’s production of The Wizard of Oz. This movie, released in 1939, was nominated for several Academy Awards and its eventual annual televised presentation became an American tradition for more than three decades. This popularity was not because of the movie’s surface plot. Consider the story. It involves a young girl, Dorothy Gale, as its protagonist. The dramatic conflict is between her and an older neighbor, Elmira Gulch, who has a court order to have Dorothy’s dog put down. Soon into the story Dorothy is knocked unconscious, and the rest of the movie relates a dream sequence that has absolutely nothing to do with her conflict with Miss Gulch. Dorothy awakens at the end of the movie, nothing has been resolved, and we can only hope that the poor dog won’t be put to sleep later that day.

As an objective drama, The Wizard of Oz made no sense. But the mystery of rád, of the spiritual journey, sings out to us. Viewers understood that the story wasn’t about Dorothy’s dog or Elmira Gulch, it was about a girl’s spiritual journey home. When Dorothy awakens, she is centered and grounded in a way she had not been before. That is what resonated with audiences in 1939, and that is why this movie is still remembered and beloved by many.

The second quality of the journey, according to the Rune Poem, is that it can be comfortable (sefte) and very fast (swiþhwæt) if the sojourner “sits high on a mighty horse.” Nowhere does the Rune Poem say that the horse, the empowering ally, is requisite to make the journey. What the Rune Poem does tell us is that the road home will be much easier if sojourners have that empowering ally with them when they set forth.

In form, the rád rune has two “legs” and seems to be walking. Within the form or shape of this rune we see also the wynn rune. If you go back to that passage of the Rune Poem, you will recall that one of the requirements of wynn, or joy, is a sufficient dwelling (burga geniht). Thus we see that the journey home, the mystery of rád, brings us closer to a place of joy or contentment.

When rád makes an appearance in divination, it always indicates a journey of some kind. This could be a physical journey. Rád need not involve physical movement, but there is a natural connection between physical and spiritual travel. When we embark on a physical journey, we leave behind our environment, and that environment has its own spiritual presence. At the conclusion of our journey, we settle into a different spiritual presence. Thus a physical journey has the potential to instigate spiritual change within us. Rád does not always differentiate between the physical and spiritual aspects of the journey. At times it can represent a purely physical journey with no obvious or dramatic spiritual changes. More often, though, it speaks to us of a spiritual odyssey.

In rúncræft, rád is used whenever the rúnwita wants to instigate a journey. Again, the rune itself will not always distinguish between a physical or spiritual journey, so it must be used with care. A person who wants a job involving travel could make a charm combining rád with feoh. A person about to embark on a journey where he has no personal control over his transportation—as when traveling by airplane or rail—can use rád with eolh for a protective charm.

Envision in your mind’s eye the journey itself. See the road before you. And the road need not be a pavement—it could be a trail, or even open water. However you have prepared, you may ride horseback, take a ship, or simply walk the road. The road and the means you traverse it may vary; what matters is the journey itself.

YR: Bow

(EUR)

Phonetic Value: u, as in burger (minus the r)

Yr biþ æþelinga and eorla gehwæs

wynn and weorþmynd, biþ on wicge fæger,

fæstlíc on færelde, fyrdgeatwa sum.

A bow is for noblemen and warriors everywhere

joy and a mark of distinction, upon a fair horse,

steadfast on its course, a part of the war-gear.

It is both interesting and perplexing that the bow would find itself among the runic mysteries. The bow in question would be the iconic English longbow that came up in our discussion of the éoh rune. The yew tree was decimated across the English landscape to provide wood for the construction of longbows, but this was a later development in English history. The longbow only came into prominence after the Norman conquest in the eleventh century. The Normans soon turned their attention to Wales, where they suffered heavy casualties from Welsh archers. After invading Wales, the Normans conscripted Welsh archers into their own armies. By the late thirteenth century, King Edward had banned the practice of all sports other than archery on Sundays to ensure that his subjects would improve their skill with the longbow.

I present this history lesson to illustrate that the longbow did not come into common military use until after the Futhorc, the Anglo-Saxon runes, had largely fallen into disuse. But the fact that the longbow became more popular after the Norman conquest does not mean it was unknown to the Pagan and early Christian Saxons. The longbow had been in use throughout northern Europe since the Stone Age. It was not especially favored as a military weapon because, unlike the spear or seax, a longbow requires relatively extensive training. The longbow only became popular as an English military weapon after the realization that precise skill was not necessary if you could loose thousands of arrows simultaneously into an opposing army. For the longbow to be serviceable in the hands of an individual, however, that person had to be a skilled archer.

Here is where we discover the mystery of yr. It might be called “skill with a bow” or just “skill,” rather than “bow.” The bow, as war-gear (fyrdgeatwa), was not suitable for just anybody. Possessing a bow for this purpose would be a “joy and a mark of distinction.” Among the Pagan Saxons, a person carrying a bow among his war-gear would be the exception rather than the rule. The archer had a skill that set him apart from the common man.

Our skilled archer is no ordinary peasant. He might be of noble birth, or at least of the warrior caste. He rides forth on a “fair horse” (wicge fæger), which indicates he is a person of means and status. He is a person who has enough free time to practice with the longbow to a point where his skill is notable. His proficiency as an archer is not simply talent, it is something he has earned.

In form, the rune is a stylized representation of a bow and arrow. The strokes are angular, of course, but we see that the bow is drawn. The arrow is presumably nocked, but is represented in a stylized way, set back from the bow itself.

In a divination, the yr rune indicates that the querent possesses the skills and capabilities necessary to meet whatever challenges are at hand. It is not a guarantee of success but merely an acknowledgement of the potential for success. In this way, as an omen, yr is an enigmatic rune. It offers no promises.

When used in rúncræft, yr is a rune of empowerment. Use it in any charm intended to bolster skill. Combine this rune with eh and æsc to increase your own spiritual fortitude. A teacher or public speaker can use yr with os to help facilitate communication. An athlete might benefit from a charm using yr (skill) along with ur (strength) and tir (steadfastness).

In your mind’s eye, take up the bow. Slowly draw back the string. This bow represents your ability. Know your skill. Acknowledge it as you think of and appreciate your personal abilities. Pick one of those abilities and envision it as the bow. Hold the image in your mind. Feel and recognize your own proficiency.

ING: The Lord Ing

(ING)

Phonetic Value: ng, as in thing

Ing wæs ærest mid Eastdenum gesewen secgun,

oþ hé siððan eft ofer wæg gewát, wæn æfter ran,

þus heardingas þone hæle nemdon.

Ing was first seen among the East Danes it is said,

until he later went back over the sea, his chariot following after,

thus the brave men named that hero.

The Anglo-Saxons used the word Danes (Denum) to mean Scandinavians in general. The “East Danes” (Eastdenum) in this passage of the Rune Poem is a reference to the Swedes and Geats. Here we have a description of the god Ing Fréa, or Lord Ing, who was known to the Swedes as Frej or Frö.

The Ynglinga Saga, composed in Iceland in the thirteenth century by Snorri Sturluson, confirms the Rune Poem’s assertion that the god Ing—called Freyr in Iceland—was indeed first seen “among the East Danes.” This god, if we believe Snorri’s account, founded a great temple to the gods in Uppsala, Sweden. It is said, too, that he is an ancestor of Sweden’s royal lineage.

Both Ing and his sister seem to have been less prevalent in England than they were in Norway, Iceland, and Sweden. This may be a reflection of the changing roles of these deities over time, as the Icelandic eddas and sagas were recorded hundreds of years after the English had converted to the new religion of Christianity. Certainly Ing’s sister, known in Sweden as Fröja, governed functions that had once been the domain of the goddess Frigg, or Frige, in England.

Ing Fréa is a complex deity. In the Ynglinga Saga, he is called the God of This World. According to the Prose Edda, he is the Harvest God and the Wealth-Giver, the Fair and the Most Renowned. He is a bringer of peace, and yet he is called Battle-Wise and Mighty. He is the Lord of the Elves, ruling the fair realm of Elfhame.

Some people believe—or at least suspect—Ing Fréa to be the original Horned God of the Wiccan religion. There are compelling arguments both for and against this theory (which I discuss further in Travels Through Middle Earth: The Path of a Saxon Pagan), but ultimately there’s no way to prove or disprove the idea. For many people today, Ing fulfills the archetype of the Green Man. This is related to his role as Lord of the Elves. Ing Fréa is associated with fertility—specifically with the fertility of the earth.

In recent years, Ing has become a patron deity for many more gay men than random chance would dictate. This has elicited the expected homophobic protest from some quarters that Ing/Frö/Freyr is not “gay.” I do not believe that gods are limited by our own mortal desires and affections, but, if we were to debate this particular god’s sexual preference, the Poetic Edda assures us of his legendary passionate love for the giantess Gearde. If anything, Ing Fréa may be the most heterosexual of the northern gods! That said, I see no connection between Ing’s personal sexual inclination—if a god can be said to have anything like that—and his ability to be a patron or mentor for mortals with a different orientation.

The form of the ing rune is usually interpreted as some representation of Ing Fréa’s association with the fertility of the land. I have heard the shape of this rune described as a symbol of male fertility (possibly), female fertility (unlikely), and even as a symbol of DNA (now people are just getting silly). The common denominator shared by all of these, of course, is the idea of regeneration. An image that resonates for me is that of a bound sheaf of barley. I have heard other rune sorcerers describe the glyph in this way as a symbol of Ing’s connection with plant life, the harvest, and prosperity.

When ing appears in a divination, it usually indicates some divine intervention or connection. The deity involved might indeed be Ing Fréa, but it could just as easily be another god or goddess. For me, the appearance of the ing rune often does mean that Ing Fréa is intervening in my life in some way, because I have had a relationship with this god for many years. For the querent who has a closer relationship with Thunor or with Frige, the ing rune is more likely to indicate the intervention of one of those deities. One important thing to keep in mind is that this connection will probably be brief. The deity, whether this is Ing Fréa or some other god or goddess, will soon return or go “back over the sea” (eft ofer wæg). Thus the querent needs to pay attention so as not to miss the message or assistance that the deity offers.

In rúncræft, ing may be used to promote fertility. As we become more and more disconnected from the earth, it has become fashionable to interpret “fertility” to mean any creative endeavor, but there is a difference. The fertility spoken of by this rune is just that and nothing else; it does not mean creativity or inspiration. The creative artisan will find the os rune, which we will discuss next, to be more useful for his needs. Because of the historical connection between prosperity and a good harvest, the rune may indicate the former. The rune ing can also nurture or promote sensuality, and it is often used in that way.

Horticulturalists can combine the ing rune with beorc and gear for a charm to improve the fertility of their gardens. Carve or burn these runes into a strip of wood and hang this by the garden. For a would-be parent hoping to produce a child, I would recommend using ing with ur. This rune can be used in prosperity charms, and for the Saxon Pagan, the ing rune can also be used in any charm phrased as a prayer to Ing Fréa.

In your mind’s eye, envision the god Ing manifesting before you. He is indeed the Fair God, almost painfully beautiful. Greenery surrounds him and is reflected in the depths of his eyes. He is with you, within you, and around you, the Lord of the Elves. All nature reflects his strength and beauty. The god comes to you with a message, or maybe to aid you in some way. Be ready, for he will be with you for but a moment.

OS: A God

(OSE)

Phonetic Value: o, as in coat or pot

Os byþ ordfruma ælere spræce,

wisdomes wraþu ond witena frofur

and eorla gehwam eadnys ond tohiht.

The god is the creator of all language,

wisdom’s foundation and consolation of sages

and every man’s joy and trust.

The os rune is sometimes interpreted as meaning “mouth,” but the Old English word for mouth is muð. The word os means “a god,” and furthermore suggests a god of the Old Religion. References to Christian deity in Old English texts use words like God (as a proper noun) or Fréa (meaning “Lord”). The oses were the earlier gods and goddesses the Anglo-Saxons brought with them when they first settled in England. And from the context of the Rune Poem, this particular os was almost certainly the god Woden.

Woden had a very different relationship with the early English than he later had with the Vikings. But as with Ing, this difference may have been a change that occurred over time. The lore of the northern gods as they were perceived by the Scandinavians was recorded long after the English had turned away from those gods. Woden, in Norse lore, was known by the name Odin, and he was a war-chief preparing for a cataclysmic battle reminiscent of the Christian idea of Armageddon. This role was appropriate for the High God of the northlands at that time. The Old Religions of Europe had fallen. The Dodekatheon (Hellenic religion) was gone, the Religio Romana (Roman religion) forgotten. The Germanic gods were still honored, but only in the northernmost lands where they were making their last stand.

Centuries earlier, Woden presented a different demeanor to the Anglo-Saxons. He was the wise, hooded wizard-god. Woden ruled the wind, including the wind that issues forth from the mouths of men in the form of speech. As we see here in the Rune Poem, he was considered the source or creator of spoken language. It was Woden who inspired the words of the scop, or poet.

The same wind that produces speech is the æthem, or life breath, that binds the various parts of the soul to the physical body (lic). When the æthem ceases, we die, and so Woden is also a god of the dead. From the first night of winter through the Yuletide, he rides in the night in search of lost spirits. Woden, like Ing, is a complex deity. He is both warrior and wizard, both wise counsel and avenging spirit. Woden rules the heavenly realm of Osgeard, and yet wanders our own world endlessly.

The Rune Poem focuses on Woden’s association with speech and language. Language, the Rune Poem tells us, is wisdom’s foundation (wisdomes wraþu). It is what distinguishes us, perhaps more than anything else, from other animals. Almost all animals communicate with their own kind, but no other species can convey complex, abstract concepts the way we humans do. I can tell my dog Lucky to “sit,” and she (most often) will quickly do so. She knows what “sit” means. But if I were to say, “Lucky, I am heating water to make a new batch of mead, and I would like you to sit quietly so I don’t trip over you,” she has no idea what I am saying. What she hears is, “Lucky, brog-brog-brog-brog-brog.”

It is our species, and ours alone, that can pass on the wisdom of Plato and Socrates, that can share the tales of Beowulf and Oliver Twist and Tom Sawyer. It is language that allows us to preserve the past and prepare for the future.

Language is wisdom and the consolation or joy (frofur) of wise men. Woden’s association with language and wisdom is the mystery of the rune os. We see this in the shape of the rune itself. Os is one of the four F runes, those that consist of two cross-strokes extending from a longer upright stroke. You may remember from our discussion of ác in the chapter on leaf and root runes that downward strokes indicate stability, upward strokes indicate mobility, and the stroke that extends down and then back up to make a V indicates divinity. The os rune has two of these latter strokes. The rune can also be viewed as a depiction of a person with his or her arms outstretched in a beckoning gesture. This might be thought of as an illustration of language as a tool for persuading or convincing others.

When os appears in a divination, it usually indicates communication. Often it indicates not the presence of communication, but rather a need for it. When I give offerings at my household altar and seek an omen afterward, this rune always indicates a need on my part to listen more closely to my gods. This is something that most of us often forget to do. We are quick to speak up and tell our gods what we want or need, but we very often fail to take the time to listen to what they may want or need of us. The os rune can also indicate a need for communication in other areas of your life. If you are having a conflict with another person—a spouse or friend or employer—the os rune could indicate a need to sit down and discuss your concerns.

Os is useful in rúncræft whenever you want to encourage or nurture communication. Combine os with feoh and ur for a charm to help you obtain or excel in a management position, because communication is essential in these careers. Use with yr for a general charm to facilitate communication in almost any endeavor. Os and gear can be used together to combat writer’s block!

For this rune, envision in your mind’s eye the god Woden standing before you, hooded and cloaked. He has only one eye. His other eye was sacrificed in his quest for the runic mysteries, and a patch now covers the wound. Woden opens his mouth and speaks to you, but his words are more than any mortal could hope to utter. His speech is palpable, flowing out from his lips like a silvery light. As you listen, your heart is filled with understanding.

EAR: Land, Ground

(EH-ar)

Phonetic Value: ao, “ay-uh”

Ear byþ egle eorla gehwilcun,

þonn fæstlice flæsc onginneþ,

hræw cólian, hrúsan ceosan blác to gebeddan;

bléda gedréosaþ, wynna gewítaþ, wera geswícaþ.

The ground is loathsome to all men,

yet certainly the body will be set upon there,

the corpse grows cold, the soil accepts its pale bedfellow;

leaves fall, pleasures depart, men cease to be.

There is something profoundly sad about the ear rune. It is a rune of mortality, of endings. Most of the runes of the Futhorc can have either positive or negative connotations, depending on the current situation, but it is difficult to see anything positive in the ear rune. It rips away the platitudes and exposes the grief we endure when confronted with death in all of its forms.

The death is not necessarily the death of a person, although the concept of physical death is central to this passage of the Rune Poem. Death is an ending, and there are many kinds of endings. A divorce is the death of a marriage. Friendships can die. Ideals, dreams, and aspirations can die. No matter how you look at it, no matter the nature of the death, ear is not a happy rune. The language used in this passage of the Rune Poem—cold (cólian), pale or bleak (blác), to fall or perish (gedréosan)—emphasizes the sense of loss and sorrow. This is not simply change. There is a distinct difference between loss and transformation, and the ear rune embodies the mystery of loss.

The first line in this passage may seem odd considering how our very lives are sustained by the produce of the earth. How can the ground be perceived as loathsome or hideous to men (egle eorla)? The Rune Poem reminds us that the same earth that sustains us also accepts death as its bedfellow. In the modern world, death is sanitized as much as possible and removed from our consciousness, but on some level we still recognize its taint and cringe from its touch. On some level, most people also equate dirt with disease. Anything “soiled” is presumed to be unhealthy. And the Rune Poem tells us why. The dead body is laid upon the earth, most often in a grave, and the soil eventually accepts or chooses it as a pale bedfellow (ceosan blác to gebeddan).

The shape of the rune suggests some sort of drilling tool. It may represent a device for drilling or pushing holes into the ground.

In a divination, ear always indicates some kind of loss. It does not necessarily mean the death of a person, but it does suggest the loss of something important or meaningful. Some systems of divination allow you to put a happy, positive “spin” on any symbol that appears. Runic wiglung does not, at least not when the ear rune is drawn. Ear is a rune of endings. The ending may not be catastrophic, but it will be a loss and will be accompanied with the sorrow that inevitably follows in the wake of a loss. We never really want to see an omen like this, but the truth is that sometimes bad things happen.

Can some good come out of this loss? Of course. The earth that embraces the corpse is the same earth that sustains the living flesh. An ending is followed by a new beginning. We can go on and on with platitudes. Yes, life will go on. Yes, the sun will rise again, and tomorrow will be another day. The ear rune does not deny any of this, but, conversely, none of it is related to rune’s message. This rune, ear, acknowledges our pain and sorrow at this moment in time.

The most obvious use for ear in rúncræft is for cursing somebody, but I would never use the rune in this way. The magic we weave inevitably becomes part of our own wyrd, our own fortune, so why would I want employ such a cold, sorrowful rune? There simply is never any need to do so. There are runes like thorn and æsc for warding off negativity, and runes like wynn and ur to bolster your own personal strength and good fortune. One thing I have learned over the years is that successful magicians rarely waste their time and energy cursing others. Ethical issues aside, it is far more effective and productive to build yourself up than to attempt to tear somebody else down.

The ear rune can be an appropriate funerary symbol, because this is a time to acknowledge our pain and loss. As I have mentioned, we tend to sanitize death today and dress it up as if it were nothing more than a long holiday. This denial of loss can place an unnecessary burden on those close to the deceased whose feelings do not match the serene, almost pleasant ambience displayed by those around them. They are told that their loved one “is in a better place now.” (What was wrong with the place he was in before?) Or that “he is at peace now.” (Was he in turmoil up until he died?) Meanwhile people blithely ignore the deep and immeasurable pain that those closest to the deceased are enduring. I do not advise sharing this symbol with those unfamiliar with the runes at such a stressful time. They have much more important things—intense, raw emotions—to deal with. But keep the ear rune close to your own heart as a reminder of their pain.

When you contemplate this rune, envision people in mourning. These may be the same community of people you envisioned while contemplating the mann rune in the previous chapter. Those people were unaware, on a conscious level, of the death in their midst. But the people you envision now are deeply aware of a recent loss. They cry out their pain, for it is too much to hold within. The corpse is cold. The soil is ready to accept its pale bedfellow.

Review

1. How do the legends of Robin Hood reflect the mystery of the níed rune?

2. Describe the difference between rád (riding) and eh (horse).

3. Give two kennings or titles associated with the god Ing.

4. What is the æthem, and what is its relationship with the os rune?

5. In the passage of the Rune Poem describing ear, why is the earth or ground “loathsome to all men”?