Autumn

Blessings Darlings!

Fall is an insanely busy time around here.  The Chubby Hubby has caught up on work after the summer conference he teaches at and is involved in new projects, for one thing.  For another, the weather has finally cooled off so I'm doing more things.  Meanwhile, the garden hasn't really slowed down yet. 

The first thing I did with the cooler weather was do the sewing I'd put off all summer.  In late spring I'd taken all the clothes that needed patches and other repairs and gotten them ready to be worked on.  Mostly that meant that I'd ironed or fabric-glued patches in place, intending to sew the the patches on more securely.  Since the clothes were all long-sleeved shirts and long pants, they didn't need to be done immediately.  But I discovered that during the 100 degree days of summer I was .... disinclined .... to sit with material covering me, doing the sewing in my lap (knee and elbow patches have to be sewn by hand here, I don't have a sewing machine with an long narrow plate to slip them over). So suddenly it was 'patch or die!'  or at least "patch or everyone will have to wear their GOOD STUFF around the house, leading to them wearing out into no longer being the good stuff".

It took a few weeks, but the winter stuff is now caught up on.  Which means I'm identifying summer stuff that needs work.  Why do the underarms get holes in them?  I understand the holes in the front of the shirts - we have cats. Cats have claws. Cats poke holes in things.  Those holes I'm going to do some embroidery over.  I'm thinking of doing protective runes.

I've also started the fall round of carpet shampooing, and all the rest of the fall cleaning.  It's a constant battle against cobwebs here! 

And I'm working on harvesting every wild herb that I can.  I'm sure that this is embarrassing the Spawn, who is often with me when I suddenly stop and grab, say, a nice mullein plant, or cut some grape vines, or dig up some chickory roots.    And then I have to clean them, dry them, store them. 

And, as I type this, tomorrow in October 1.  Which means Samhain is coming.  With my 9-day personal prep for that (see this post), and coven ritual, and maybe Audience with the Ancestors with the larger tradition .... busy.

What's on your plate for Autumn? Are you preparing for the Cold Times, for Samhain? Clearing the way for introspection or study?

Frondly, Fern

Havamal Part 8 - The Mating Game

Blessings Darlings!

This week in the Havamal - Odhinn trashes women. And men. Or at least dating. Or speaks of the challenges of actually finding intimacy. 

While the words used usually say love here .... more of the time it sounds like lust, or day dreams.  For all logic, all sense is thrown away.  This is not about finding someone to spend the rest of your life with! 

At best it's love as illness, love as destroyer.  Tristan and Isolde-level strurm und drang.  I suppose that shouldn't be a surprise, given the era this came from.  Survival then really did depend in large part on wise choice in a mate and their family.  You had a role in the survival of your extended family, your clan, your tribe, your village to uphold.

It didn't matter if you were gay or straight, for that matter.  You  needed to marry, to form an alliance to strengthen your tribe and to have children, explained   Alexi Kondratiev in a class at Sacred Space Conference some years back.  The group was more important than the individual.

No man should trust a maiden's words,
Nor what a woman speaks:
Spun on a wheel were women's hearts,
In their breasts was implanted caprice,

To love a woman whose ways are false
Is like sledding over slippery ice
With unshod horses out of control,
Badly trained two-year-olds,
Or drifting rudderless on a rough sea,
Or catching a reindeer with a crippled hand
On a thawing hillside: think not to do it.

Naked I may speak now for I know both:
Men are treacherous too
Fairest we speak when falsest we think:
many a maid is deceived.

Gallantly shall he speak and gifts bring
Who wishes for woman's love:
praise the features of the fair girl,
Who courts well will conquer.

Never reproach another for his love:
It happens often enough
That beauty ensnares with desire the wise
While the foolish remain unmoved.

Never reproach the plight of another,
For it happens to many men:
Strong desire may stupefy heroes,
Dull the wits of the wise

Yeah, the blood leaves the brain and goes to regions farther south, in both men and women.

The mind alone knows what is near the heart,
Each is his own judge:
The worst sickness for a wise man
Is to crave what he cannot enjoy.

So I learned when I sat in the reeds,
Hoping to have my desire:
Lovely was the flesh of that fair girl,
But nothing I hoped for happened.

I saw on a bed Billing's daughter,
Sun white, asleep:
No greater delight I longed for then
Than to lie in her lovely arms.

"Come" Odhinn, after nightfall
If you wish for a meeting with me:
All would be lost if anyone saw us
And learned that we were lovers."

Afire with longing" I left her then,
Deceived by her soft words:
I thought my wooing had won the maid,
That I would have my way.

After nightfall I hurried back,
But the warriors were all awake,
Lights were burning, blazing torches:
So false proved the path

Towards daybreak back I came
The guards were sound asleep:
I found then that the fair woman
Had tied a bitch to her bed.
WHY is it that "All would be lost if anyone saw us and learned that we were lovers'?  I'm thinking that would have been a question he should have asked and dealt with up front.  Probably back to individual pleasure over the needs of the tribe?

Many a girl when one gets to know her
Proves to be fickle and false:
That treacherous maiden taught me a lesson,
The crafty woman covered me with shame"
That was all I got from her.

Certainly this rings true about dating/courtship.  Odhinn here seems to have wanted to get laid, rather than the public 'we are an item' coupling, and certainly not marriage.  If marriage was the goal he'd not have agreed to keep things secret.

Courtship.  Let's look at the third definition from the Bing dictionary: friendly and often ingratiating attention for the purpose of winning a favor or establishing an alliance or other relationship.  Were any of the folks talked of so far doing anything working towards marriage, towards intimacy - the #1 definition of 'courtship' from Bing (the period of a romantic relationship before marriage)?  Nope.  It's all game playing. 

Now, I personally think that dating to have fun and even get laid is fine - not all dating SHOULD lead to marriage.  But I'm of the opinion that if you're out for a good time, be up front about.  Own it.  It's okay. 

But some folks ARE going to lie about their intent and lead you on to think that they are on the same songsheet you're on.  Which is why you test, you evaluate.  How do they treat others?  What are their values? Especially if YOU are into dating/courtship in search of marriage and real intimacy.

Gunnlod sat me in the golden seat,
Poured me precious mead:
Ill reward she had from me for that,
For her proud and passionate heart,
Her brooding foreboding spirit.

What I won from her I have well used:
I have waxed in wisdom since I came back,
bringing to Asgard Odrerir,
the sacred draught.

Hardly would I have come home alive
From the garth of the grim troll,
Had Gunnlod not helped me, the good woman,
Who wrapped her arms around me.

Here, of course, Odhinn is the jerk, having tricked Gunnlod into giving him 3 'sips' of the mead according to Prose Edda version of the story, one for every night spent schtupping.  Not unlike Freya sleeping with a dwarf for every stone in her necklace Brisingamen.  Of course, Freya didn't totally empty the supply of amber, while Odhinn DID drink all the Mead of Poetic Inspiration!

Shun a woman, wise in magic,
Her bed and her embraces:
If she cast a spell, you will care no longer
To meet and speak with men,
Desire no food, desire no pleasure,
In sorrow fall asleep.

Snort. Baby boy, a woman wise in magic doesn't need spells to keep a man.  Or just cue my dear Frank Sinatra singing "Witchcraft".

 Sigh....  Ahem.  Back to the Havamal..

Never seduce anothers wife,
Never make her your mistress.

Never open your heart to an evil man
When fortune does not favour you:
From an evil man, if you make him your friend,
You will get evil for good.

I saw a warrior wounded fatally
By the words of an evil woman
Her cunning tongue caused his death,
Though what she alleged was a lie.

Is all of this, really, about putting one's self and one's personal desires above those of your tribe?  About forgetting to judge a potential mate by the same standards you judge the worthiness of your friends and associates? Of putting pleasure above sense?

I'm going to have to puzzle that one out more over time.

Frondly, Fern

Havamal, Part 7

 Blessings Darlings!

Sorry about the late posting today - the post got eaten by the electronic Aether.

So let's move on to ..... Gold.....

The half wit does not know that gold
Makes apes of many men:
One is rich, one is poor
There is no blame in that.



How much did the average Norse person know about apes? Is this a translation issue? 

Cattle die, kindred die,
Every man is mortal:
But the good name never dies
Of one who has done well

Cattle die, kindred die,
Every man is mortal:
But I know one thing that never dies,
The glory of the great dead




So well known, those two stanzas! Still they bare repeating. Bodies die. Great deeds don't. VERY great and stories about you will live on. Great enough, people will name their children for you, and your name will live on.  Screw up bad enough, the stories will remain but you will remain a laughing stock forever.

Fields and flocks had Fitjung's sons,
Who now carry begging bowls:
Wealth may vanish in the wink of an eye,
Gold is the falsest of friends.


Notice - we don't know the names of the sons. 



But .... were begging bowls a feature of the Norse poor?  They were and are a feature of Buddhist monks, and could be a translation issue.  Still, back in the Great Depression as it played out here in the US, people had to bring their own bowls to soup kitchens......

In the fool who acquires cattle and lands,
Or wins a woman's love,
His wisdom wanes with his waxing pride,
He sinks from sense to conceit.

Odin sounds like the 99% here.  Remember, 1% - you didn't get there alone.  You had companions, luck, and likely privilege.  Remember.

Now is answered what you ask of the runes,
Graven by the gods,
Made by the All Father,
Sent by the powerful sage:
lt is best for man to remain silent.


Is this 'keep the conceit of the previous verse to yourself'?  Is this "to know, to dare, to try, to KEEP SILENT"? Is this "you have the right to keep silent, now work on the ability to keep silent'?

For these things give thanks at nightfall:
The day gone, a guttered torch,
A sword tested, the troth of a maid,
Ice crossed, ale drunk.

Perhaps this answers my questions about the previous stanza. Keep the conceit to yourself, give thanks for what you have.  Remember.

Hew wood in wind-time,
in fine weather sail,
Tell in the night-time tales to house-girls,
For too many eyes are open by day:
From a ship expect speed, from a shield, cover,
Keenness from a sword,
but a kiss from a girl 
Drink ale by the hearth, over ice glide,
Buy a stained sword, buy a starving mare
To fatten at home: and fatten the watch-dog.

Back to common sense.

Trust not an acre early sown,
Nor praise a son too soon:
Weather rules the acre, wit the son,
Both are exposed to peril,


While you're at it, don't count your chickens before they're hatched.

A snapping bow, a burning flame,
A grinning wolf, a grunting boar,
A raucous crow, a rootless tree,
A breaking wave, a boiling kettle,
A flying arrow, an ebbing tide,
A coiled adder, the ice of a night,
A bride's bed talk, a broad sword,
A bear's play, a prince' s children,
A witch' s welcome, the wit of a slave,
A sick calf, a corpse still fresh,
A brother's killer encountered upon
The highway a house half-burned,
A racing stallion who has wrenched a leg,
Are never safe: let no man trust them.


Trust yourself. Verify all else.

Frondly, Fern

Havamal, Part 4

Some day reading the Havamal reminds me of the saying "the problem with common sense is that it's so uncommon.   So much of this can be summarized by as 'Don't be a Douche'!

Be restrained in your drinking - if you can't remember the night before, you failed and were a fool.  Talk little, let your bold, brave actions be your statement.   Don't be a pig, especially one who eats/drinks too much then complains that you're SO FULL or so wasted.  Don't disrespect others at a gathering, not only because it makes you look bad but if you cause a fight it screws up EVERYONE.  Be able to judge who is laughing with  you vs laughing at you, your friends from everyone else.  Don't count on others taking care of your needs.

Yup.  Don't be a douche.

I-forget is the name men give the heron

Who hovers over the fast: 

Fettered I was in his feathers that night,  

When a guest in Gunnlod's court 

 

Drunk I got, dead drunk, 

When Fjalar the wise was with me: 

Best is the banquet one looks back on after,  

And remembers all that happened, 

 

Silence becomes the Son of a prince, 

To be silent but brave in battle: 

It befits a man to be merry and glad  

Until the day of his death, 

 

The coward believes he will live forever

If he holds back in the battle, 

But in old age he shall have no peace  

Though spears have spared his limbs 

 

When he meets friends, the fool gapes, 

Is shy and sheepish at first, 

Then he sips his mead and immediately 

All know what an oaf he is, 

He who has seen and suffered much, 

And knows the ways of the world, 

Who has travelled', can tell what spirit 

Governs the men he meets, 

Drink your mead, but in moderation, 

Talk sense or be silent: 

No man is called discourteous who goes  

To bed at an early hour 

 

A gluttonous man who guzzles away 

Brings sorrow on himself: 

At the table of the wise he is taunted often,  

Mocked for his bloated belly, 

 

The herd knows its homing time, 

And leaves the grazing ground: 

But the glutton never knows how much  

His belly is able to hold, 

 

An ill tempered, unhappy man 

Ridicules all he hears, 

Makes fun of others, refusing always  

To see the faults in himself 

 

Foolish is he who frets at night, 

And lies awake to worry' 

A weary man when morning comes,  

He finds all as bad as before, 

 

The fool thinks that those who laugh 

At him are all his friends, 

Unaware when he sits with wiser men  

How ill they speak of him. 

 

The fool thinks that those who laugh 

At him are all his friends: 

When he comes to the Thing and calls for support,  

Few spokesmen he finds 

 

The fool who fancies he is full of wisdom 

While he sits by his hearth at home. 

Quickly finds when questioned by others .  

That he knows nothing at all. 

 

The ignorant booby had best be silent 

When he moves among other men, 

No one will know what a nit-wit he is 

Until he begins to talk; 

No one knows less what a nit-wit he is  

Than the man who talks too much. 

 

To ask well, to answer rightly, 

Are the marks of a wise man: 

Men must speak of men's deeds,  

What happens may not be hidden. 

 

Wise is he not who is never silent, 

Mouthing meaningless words: 

A glib tongue that goes on chattering  

Sings to its own harm. 

 

A man among friends should not mock another: 

Many believe the man 

Who is not questioned to know much 

And so he escapes their scorn. 

An early meal a man should take 

Before he visits friends, 

Lest, when he gets there, 

he go hungry,  

Afraid to ask for food. 

 

The fastest friends may fall out 

When they sit at the banquet-board: 

It is, and shall be, a shameful thing  

When guest quarrels with guest,

Havamal, Installment 2

Blessings  Darlings!

In our last installment of the Havamal, I sort of declare that it was aimed at .... a business traveler.  Doesn't matter it the traveler is a trader or raider, I suppose, ultimately, the point is to return richer than when you set out.  So, where does the text take us now?

The man who stands at a strange threshold
Should be cautious before he cross it. 
Glance this way and that:
Who knows beforehand what foes may sit
Awaiting him in the hall?

Greetings to the host, 
The guest has arrived,
In which seat shall he sit?
Rash is he who at unknown doors 
Relies on his good luck.


Well, what do you know - it sound like skills from the Ninjitsu training I had!  Situational awareness - scope out your surroundings at all times.  Especially in a group of people you are meeting for the first time, you will not know all the alliances, and certainly not all the history.  

We were rather in that situation a year ago, when we moved.  Among our neighbors, who were the power brokers?  Would the HOA really enforce the rules on garbage cans, and if so, who would be reporting violations?  What families don't get along?  Scoping out the hidden alliances and sand traps was necessary!

Our approach - rely on courtesy, our operating motto "Don't embarrass the neighbors". Keep the yard neat, help neighborhood upkeep, wave at every car we pass/passes the house if we're outside.

It's also our business approach, but more on that in a few verses.

Fire is needed by the newcomer
Whose knees are frozen numb,
Meat and clean linen a man needs
Who has fared across the fells.

Water, too, that he may wash before eating,
Handclothes and a hearty welcome,
Courteous words, then courteous silence
that he may tell his tale. 

The ball is back in the host's court here.  Hosts have responsibilities.  Hang up their coats. Show them to the restroom.  Get them a cup of coffee, or meal or whatever the situation is.  And then scope the guest out!  

The assorted rights and responsibilities of guests and hosts are very much like the handshaking done by the machines when you send a fax.  They make sure that everyone is using a communication platform that works at both ends.

While you're at it, check their company's D&B listing.  

More in our next installment!


Frondly, Fern