The Myth of the “Seidhr Complex”: The Role of the Vitki/Volva (Part 2 of 4)
In last week’s blog, we began discussing the myth of the “seidhr complex”, as taught and practiced in modern American Heathenry. This week, we take that exploration deeper, as we seek to uncover the role of the Vitki and the Volva.
The Path of the Vitki/Volva is the path of the teacher, the guide, the counselor; the representative of the community. These are the staff-carriers, who endure journeys to the Otherworlds not simply because they can, or even because they should, but because the people around them need them to do so. It is a path of becoming: of weaving into being actively in the here and now. In the Iron Age, theirs was the occupation of “pastoral care” in the truest sense of those words. In our modern world, the vitki and the volva have largely been demoted to the position of “fortune teller” or “rune tosser”, largely forgetting their true place in the community. I have encountered far too few self-proclaimed vitkar and/or volur who realize that their first job is to help other people. Most seem to have forgotten to do the simplest yet most profound job of the staff-carrier: to stand up, represent, and genuinely be there for those who are in need. This is basically the “home-road” of the Norse Witch: the words “vitki” and “volva” mean “wizard” and “witch”, respectively; you might even recognize a shared etymological root between “vitki” and the word “witch” itself. In seeking to follow the Path of Heidhr/Gullveig, as followers of this “Heidhrinn Way”, we naturally find our feet treading this bright and many-colored road. Of course, in the Iron Age, within the small communities of Uppland Sweden, every single person in a central place or nodal point would not have been a vitki or volva. Archaeological evidence suggests that the ratio of “villagers” to vitki or volva likely averaged thirty or forty to one, possibly two. Grave-goods and remains in Birka even suggest that sometimes a community was served by a husband and wife vitki/volva pair. Yet we find ourselves now rebirthing this Tradition into a literally global community which is positively full of people who need help, guidance, comfort, and answers. The community is far larger now than it was then, even if the “Heathen” demographic is not necessarily spectacularly high. When it comes to people in need, however, we must follow in the footsteps of our staff-carrying Ancestors and put aside differences of creed, to enable the greater good.
Some may cry foul at the above paragraph and say things like “well, that’s just Connla’s personal opinion, and he is more than welcome to it (or not)”. Others may even state emphatically that “we can’t possibly know such things about the attitudes and occupations of the ancient world”. My response to either: let’s explore the archaeology of that world, and then see if those opinions still ring true. The Lore absolutely cannot serve as our only source material in such matters. Most of the information that has come down to us is explicitly within secondary sources that have been profoundly influenced by Christianity (this is especially true in the case of trolldomr). Our only hope is to be able to look toward the material culture–via archaeology–and perhaps make some discoveries there. The problem with this method is that it is impossible to look across the expanse of material culture and arrive at some “homogenized blanket statement” of Norse magick. Instead, we must choose a specific geo-cultural area of focus, for just as seidhr was clearly not a “catch-all” term for all magickal practice, the people of Sweden were as different from the people of Denmark or elsewhere as the people of Britain are from the people of the United States. Therefore, my geo-cultural area of focus will be Uppland Sweden, primarily during the Vendel Period.
What, then, is archaeology, and why am I “wasting your time”, going on and on about it? Basically, it is a subdiscipline of anthropology, which involves the study of the human past through the material remains left behind. Material remains may include artifacts (such as tools, jewelry, etc.), structures (like the vast tombs of Egypt, or the remnants of structures, such as the post holes left behind by “Viking” longhouses), or physical remains (such as skeletons and even food remnants). In the case of oral cultures, such as the “Vikings” or the Celts, archaeology can often provide the only primary evidence for how people lived, believed, and practiced. I have been confronted often by those who then ask: “But isn’t the interpretation of such evidence highly subjective?” Well, yes, it certainly can be, if the proper science isn’t applied. What science? Cognitive processual archaeology: the study of past thought and symbolic structure based on material remains. In other words, the archaeologist takes the symbols represented on an artifact, such as a sword or a piece of jewelry, and then attempts to insert them back into their original context, to arrive at an understanding of their actual meaning, not to us, but to the original people who created them. In order to supply that original context, however, the archaeologist must first fully realize the worldview of those original makers of the object. Without first arriving at that worldview, archaeologists (and those who study their subsequent published works) are in danger of merely making up history, based on what they imagine those people must have thought or believed. I have spent the past year of my life learning that process of cognitive processual archaeology, and I apply it, via an established worldview, to all of the findings which follow.
In four boat graves at Valsgarde in Uppland Sweden, archaeologists found conclusive evidence of Saami cultural influence. The men buried in boat graves 5, 6, 7, and 8, which have been determined to be generational graves, were all interred beneath birch-bark “tents”, comparable to those used in traditional Saami burial practices. Unfortunately, the influence of Saami culture on the Norse, and specifically the Svear of Uppland Sweden, has largely been downplayed, ignored, or taken out of context by many scholars. Where their influence has been “given a nod”, often it has been more in the direction of the Norse influencing the Saami, than the other way around. In the modern era, concerns over possible cultural appropriation have led to an even larger ignorance of cultural diffusion and cultural assimilation between the two ethnic groups. The material culture discovered in graves at Valsgarde in Uppland Sweden suggests cultural diffusion, followed by acculturation and assimilation, rather than cultural appropriation. However, in our modern world, when we pick up a drum and attempt to yoik with only a marginal understanding of Saami culture, and then displace that into a Norse context, that could be a case of cultural appropriation. When an individual uses a Native American ritual, in an attempt to gain contact with their “spirit animal”, and then consistently replaces the words “Native American” with “Saami”, they have committed cultural appropriation towards two cultures at the same time. In many current discussions in modern American Heathen circles, the Saami have more or less been reduced to the circumpolar equivalent of the “cigar store Indian”, so I feel that any further discussion would be remiss without at least attempting to dispel that stereotype. For those unfamiliar with that term (“cigar store Indian”), let me explain that briefly as well: for many years, almost every cigar store had, in a corner somewhere, a wooden figure of a Native American, complete with warbonnet. They were stereotypical effigies of the “noble savage”; inauthentic caricatures. Nevermind that not all Native Americans wear warbonnets, or that tobacco use among the Nations of North America was ceremonial, rather than recreational. These effigies served to promote a cliche: the teepee-dwelling chief, hand raised, saying simply “how”. Views of the Saami, within modern American Heathen circles, have become shockingly similar, only the cigars are replaced by drums, and the warbonnets with reindeer. Many modern American Heathens—even teachers within that community—have come to view the Saami as the “Native Americans of Scandinavia”, complete with feathered and antlered headdresses, and the attached “dance around the fire with a drum to get in touch with your spirit animal”. That is not who the Saami were, nor is it who the Saami are today, and perpetuating such stereotypes is, purely and simply, a form of racial stereotyping and profiling; a form of ethnic pigeon-holing which simply cannot be allowed to continue to exist.
It was precisely stereotypes such as these that likely led to the Saami-negativity in Loki’s statement in Lokasenna 24:
“En þik síða kóðu Sámseyu í,
ok draptu á vétt sem völur;
vitka líki fórtu verþjóð yfir,
ok hugða ek þat args aðal.”
“But you reform utterances in a Saami island,
And beat on a vétt (drum? lid? shield? box?) like the seeresses;
In the form of a vitki (wizard) you journeyed mankind over,
And I thought that unmanly (also effeminate, lewd, cowardly, wicked, or pernicious) in nature.”
–Connla Freyjason Translation
By the 12th century, laws were already being made in Norway forbidding Christians from visiting the Saami for divination. To “reform utterances in a Saami isle” implies that Odin learned to “reshape” his magickal words from the Saami: that they effectively schooled Him in magick, which then led to “beating on a vétt” in the same manner that a noaidi (a Saami shaman) beats upon a drum. As always, we must take caution in regarding the Eddas as the absolute or direct transliteration of earlier oral culture. Herein, clearly, we see anti-Saami sentiment coloring the verse. Yet what do we find within the material culture of Vendel Period Uppland Sweden? We find elite burials filled with Saami motifs.
Valsgarde Boat Grave 8 is the oldest of the boat-graves at Valsgarde, dating to an estimated period between 560 CE and 620-630 CE, located on the southwestern side of the road that cuts through Valsgarde gravefield, near its southern entrance. Grave-goods suggest that he may have been directly of Saami descent (mother or father was Saami; more likely his mother, as it was common in this and later periods for men of status to take Saami wives), including the seax, which was of a style identical in shape and decoration to a Saami vakipuukko (“folk knife”). Both of the shields in this grave were situated directly over the decedent, rather than having one placed over him, with the other propped against a ship’s rail. The shield was placed in the same manner as a Saami noaidi would place his drum during trance-state. The boat in which he was interred was one of the smaller specimens at Valsgarde, only 29.5 feet long, as compared to the much later Valsgarde 5 (likely this man’s great-grandson), which was 38.4 feet long. Within the boat, and over the man and his shields, was placed a birch-bark “tent”, which, as aforementioned, is clearly further evidence of Saami cultural influence. Upon shelves at his feet were found woodworking tools, perhaps evidence that he participated in the Saami tradition of duodji: the hand-crafting of aesthetically pleasing functional items, which are often believed to be divinely inspired; the traditional materials used by men were wood and horn.
These Saami cultural influences clearly passed, generationally, down this family line, from great-grandfather (8), to grandfather (7), to father (6), to son (5). What is interesting is that, as we place the assemblages from these graves side-by-side, we see a continuance of the Saami influence, but greater assimilation with typically Scandinavian motifs as time progresses. For example, Boat Grave 8 contains not only the birch-bark “tent”, but also the woodworking tools and a seax in almost precisely the style of a Saami vakipuuko, and Boat Grave 7 contains the “tent”, as well as the only decapitated Snowy Owl thus far excavated in a Norse context and a seax in what might be described as an “augmented” Saami style, while Boat Graves 6 and 5, still with “tents”, largely lack other apparent Saami cultural influences. The line to “reform utterances in a Saami isle” from Lokasenna 24, as aforementioned, implies that the Saami schooled Odin in His magick; certainly, the implications from these grave-goods implies that the decedent in Grave 8 “schooled” the decedent in Grave 7 in the magickal arts, who, it is likewise implied, passed these arts down to his son, interred in Grave 6, who then taught his own son, interred in Grave 5. The dating of items in Grave 6 in particular implies a possible apprenticeship (the firedog, one of the bridles, one of the seaxes, one of the swords, and the kettle date from the period of Graves 7 & 8, implying that they might be viewed as “objects-as-history”), and one of the seaxes was fashioned in a style completely unlike others at Valsgarde, suggesting “foreign” make (as in, from a region further away than Valsgarde or Gamla Uppsala), possibly from Birka or Helgo.
Further Saami influence may be evidenced by the presence of bundles of arrows in all four graves: two in Grave 8, three in Grave 7, two in Grave 6, and at least 18 arrows (one bundle?) in Grave 5. We see perhaps the most profound expression of this in Grave 7, the son of the man in Grave 8, with a progression of lessening Saami influence from Grave 8 to Grave 5. The bow (specifically the two-wood bow; tvividhr) was invented by the Saami in Scandinavia, and the God of Bow-Hunting among the Norse was Ullr, who cognates with Saami Leaibealmmai, “The Elder Tree Man”. The Saami bow (juoksa) was also sacred to Juoksahkka, “The Bow Goddess”, daughter of Mattarahkka, “The Mother Goddess”. Juoksahkka guarded male children, and helped them grow to become successful hunters. She is very similar to the later Norse Skadhi. The arrows in the graves at Valsgarde could potentially evidence participation in a Cult of Ullr and Skadhi. Of interest is the concept that Ullr might be the son of Sif (wife of Thor) and Egill, and, therefore, the nephew of Volundr, who serves as Visi-Alfar alongside Freyr. Their occurrence near the shields, especially in the case of Grave 8, further supports this potential association with Ullr, as shields were often kenned as “Ullr’s ship”. It is of particular note, also, that Grave 7 contains not only the most bundles of arrows, but also the only decapitated Snowy Owl thus far excavated in a Norse context. Arrows are associated with “elf-shot”, and, therefore with the gandfluer, painful darts that could cause supernatural disease (even to the point of death), which were gathered by the troll bird or Vuogo, represented in Saami culture by the Snowy Owl. Given their association with Juoksahkka (who protects children from harm), it might be suggested that arrows could bestow blessings as well as curses, especially as bows were often hung over the cradles of Saami children of either gender, for protection.
My own studies have shown that the shields in these boat-graves were much too large to have actually been used in battle: typically 40 inches (3 feet, 4 inches) tall by 40 inches wide; the average height of a male during this period would have been approximately 5 feet, 6 inches. This means that the average Vendel Period shield would have potentially covered a man from the top of his head, all the way down to mid-thigh,when raised. When lowered to chin-level, the shield would have reached to below the knee, approximately mid-calf. When lowered to waist-level, as one would assume would be necessary when moving at-pace (for the sake of visibility), running would have been impossible. If carried on the back, as has been posited, the shield would have trailed to the back of a man’s knees—again, nearly to mid-calf, making walking, much less running (as is often required in battle), nearly impossible. It also would have been impossible to mount a horse while carrying one’s shield on one’s back, or carrying one’s shield at all, for that matter. The majority of actual battle-ready shields excavated from the Viking Age have ranged in size between 28-32 inches in diameter. Even the largest of these, at 32 inches, reached only to an area just below the waist when raised to full height (from the top of the head), and to mid-thigh, when held at chin level or strapped across a man’s back. Obviously, eight inches in diameter can make quite a lot of difference on the battlefield! Like the swords and helmets found in these graves, the shields were likewise either purely symbolic or ceremonial. Might the ceremonial sword have been used in the same manner as the hammer of a Saami drum, to beat upon the shield? Might the shields in these graves, in fact, be representative of the vétt mentioned in Lokasenna 24? The positioning of at least one shield over the body in every one of these tombs—in the same position in which the drum is placed by a noaidi, when entering the trance-state—certainly implies this could well have been the case. So does this stanza from the skaldic poem Haustlong (10th century), which features a description of a mythological scene depicted on a shield, and in it, vétt (lid) is used as a kenning for shield:
Týframra sék tíva,
trygglaust of far þriggja
á hreingǫru hlýri
Hildar vétts ok Þjaza.
[I see] Three God-bold guilty gods,
On a loyalty-less journey and Thjazi
On the pure-made cheek of Hildr’s vétts
Lokasenna 24 tells us that Odin beat on the vétt “sem völur”: “like” or “same as” the volvas; in other words, in the same manner as a volva would beat on a vétt. This informs us of three things: first, that both vitki and volva performed similar activities within their rituals, second, this implies that they used similar tools, and third, that they likely performed the same functions as ritual specialists. Let us take a moment, then, to look at another grave in Sweden, from a later period, and that of a confirmed volva: Bj.660 at Birka. A large chamber grave featuring a female inhumation, Bj.660 was oriented NNE-SSW, in the same way as the boat-graves at Valsgarde, and most likely dates to the early 10th century CE. The woman was laid flat on her back at the center of the tomb, wearing a silver-threaded silk headband, a silk shawl with a narrow band of silver-work, a pair of oval brooches, clothing traditional to the place and time period, a necklace of 28 beads (rock crystal and glass, some with gold and silverfoil, others with polychromatic patterns), a circular pendant with a swirling design, and a silver crucifix. She also apparently had a nose-piercing. A number of small objects were attached to the belt at her waist, including a bronze ear-spoon with a silver bead, a pair of iron scissors, an iron awl with a perforated handle, a curved pendant of Eastern origin, a whetstone of banded slate, and an iron knife. Lying at a right angle across her body was an iron staff—the ultimate symbol of the station of volva. At the top center of Bj.660, a box was located, on which rested a conical glass beaker, similar in type to the one found in Valsgarde 6. The box was situated between a small ceramic vessel situated beside a small iron-clad vessel in the upper right-hand corner of the grave, within a posthole, and an empty posthole in the opposite left-hand corner of the grave. On the southwestern wall of the chamber, there was also a large wooden bucket. The box and bucket in Bj.660 likely performed the same function as the shields at Valsgarde: they were used as vétt.
This comparison between box or bucket and shield becomes even more clear-cut when studying another assemblage of grave-goods at Birka: Bj. 834, which dates from the early 10th century CE (900s). What makes this grave of particular interest to us, within the context of this study, is that it was a double inhumation in a chamber grave of a man and woman, both of whom were seated in the same chair, likely tied into it, with her in his lap, using iron bands. The woman in Bj.834 was wearing a shawl edged with a narrow band of silver-work, as well as oval brooches with two faience beads strung between them. She wore an Arabic coin as a pendant. The woman in Bj.834 wore a belt from which hung an iron knife, as well as a leather pouch, full of more Arabic coins. Her style of dress (inclusive of the silver-trimmed shawl) and many of her grave-goods are comparable to those in Bj.660. The man, on top of whom she was seated, wore a cloak fastened by a pennanular brooch, and a belt on which hung a sheathed knife, a long fighting knife (seax?), and also a leather pouch full of Arabic coins. All evidence points to this having been a simultaneous burial, rather than either the man or the woman having been a secondary addition.
Bj.834 was arranged in two sections, with a large platform located at the eastern end, built up of large flat stones. Upon this were found the remains of two relatively young (7-8 years old, and 4-4 ½ years old) draft horses, fully tacked, and shod with crampons that suggest a winter funeral. Lying over the horses was a whip mounted with rattles. The chair was placed in the center of the chamber, facing east, with a sword laid beside it. Between the sword and the chair were found a collection of items, including a pair of iron scissors, a pair of tweezers, two awls, and a needle-case. A shield had been lain against the western wall of the grave, with its front side toward the wall, and positioned directly in line with the chair. Propped beside the shield, also in line with the chair, was an iron staff, which may or may not have been placed deliberately with its tip against the end of the sword. A wooden box with iron rivets was also found in Bj.834 (comparable to the box found in the Bj.660), positioned at the foot of the grave, in relation to the horse-platform (and directly in line with the shield on the opposite wall), on top of which had been placed a wooden bucket with an iron handle and rim mounts. Immediately to the north of this was another box. At the east end of the chamber was a bundle of arrows, and likely also a bow, long since decomposed. Above the bodies, a spear had deliberately been thrown into the wall.
The position of the staff in Bj.834 may provide some tantalizing hints to us, implying that the purpose of the staff and the posited purpose of the swords in Valsgarde 5-8 was likely identical: i.e., it was also used to beat on a vétt. Because Bj.834 contains both a male and female, here we have the presence of an actual shield, unlike in other volva-graves, such as Bj.660, yet I suggest comparing the presence of boxes in both graves, as the word vétt is most commonly translated as “lid”, as aforementioned. As the vitki used the shield and sword, so the volva box and staff. Note also the presence of very similar shawls in both Bj.660 and Bj.834. The presence of the shawls in the women’s graves draws an interesting parallel to the shields at Valsgarde: perhaps these were used as cover when sitting utiseta (more on this to follow)? Note also the presence of iron knives on the belts of both women, and the long “fighting knife”, likely similar to a seax, on the belt of the man in Bj.834, which may then be compared, again, to the seaxes at Valsgarde. The bundle of arrows in Bj.834 likewise is comparable to those in the boat-graves of Valsgarde.
From these assemblages of grave-goods at both Valsgarde and Birka, we may begin to surmise the tools used by the vitki and the volva, and from there, begin to determine in what manner and for what purpose. The most obvious item which echoes through all of these graves is the vétt, in one form or another (shields, in the case of the male vitki; buckets or boxes in the case of the female volva), and the object used to “beat” upon it.. Given Lokasenna 24, we may readily assume, without grabbing at too many straws, that the vétt served the same function as the Saami drum. In the case of the vitki, the “hammer” for the “drum” was more than likely a sword or seax; in the case of the volva, the iron staff. As the vétt in its various incarnations cognates neatly to the Saami drum, we may assume that it was used in similar fashion, to bring about a trance-state. The vitki/volva would then have placed it over themselves, or placed it beside themself or in their lap, in the case of a bucket or box, while in the trance-state, as with the Saami noaidi and his drum. Other tools which we may surmise from this collection of assemblages include the beaker or cup, the bowl, the knife, the ritual belt, and the shawl or cloak. The cups and bowls are obviously connected to the practice of blot, a form of offeratory libation, which was not specifically a “magickal” act. Our primary sources of information from the lore concerning blot are in Heimskringla and Gutasaga, which detail the giving of toasts to the Gods, as well as feasting and the performance of blood sacrifice. This also suggests another obvious use of the iron knives and seaxes included in all of the above assemblages. As there is no evidence of an organized priesthood during the Vendel Period or the Viking Age, one can surmise that the vitki or volva performed such duties for the community.
Insofar as the ritual belt of the Vitki/Volva, the archaeological record (as exhibited above), as well as ethnographic studies of the Saami, prove that the ritual specialists of the past within our Tradition possessed and wore belts, on which they carried their tools. In addition to being functional, however, these belts likely also served as tools of divination, invocation, and communication with the Otherworlds. Saami noaidi have made use of such belts since at least the 18th century, and finds from archaeological sites within a Norse context suggest that the staff-carriers, troll-riders, and seidhr-bearers of the “Viking Age” and earlier periods employed similar belts in exactly the same manner. Ethnographic accounts of such belts, as used by the Saami, detail their use in practices of both invocation and divination. This was done by various means, from peering through the opening in the belt (apparently into the Otheworld, as we think of witches in fairy tales peering into mirrors in similar fashion; technically, a form of scrying), to trailing the belt on the floor as evidence of intent to perform divination, to singing to and through the belt.
But what of the shawl or cloak? Let us return, once again, to Lokasenna 24, where we are told “vitka líki fórtu verþjóð yfir”: “in the form of a vitki you journeyed mankind over.” We know that the trance-state was the vehicle for journeying the Otherworlds, as is still practiced by noaidi in the modern era. This could explain the shawl and/or cloak, in reference to the practice of utiseta: “out-sitting”, which we find mentioned not only in various Sagas, but also in Voluspa. In Voluspa 28 & 29, we read:
Ein sat hon úti, þá er inn aldni kom
yggjungr ása ok í augu leit. Hvers fregnið mik?
Hví freistið mín? Allt veit ek,
Óðinn, hvar þú auga falt, í inum mæra Mímisbrunni.
Drekkr mjöð Mímir morgun hverjan af veði Valföðrs.
Vituð ér enn–eða hvat?
Alone I sat out, when the Old One came
Wise One of the Aesir and looked in my eyes. What news [would you have] from me?
Why do you test me? I know everything,
Odin, where your eye was sold, an offering in Mimir’s Well.
Mimir drinks every morning of Allfather’s oath.
Would you know yet more, or what?
–Connla Freyjason Translation
Utiseta is also mentioned in Islendingabok, where we are told that Thorgeirr Lawspeaker went “under the cloak” to determine whether or not Iceland should become a Christian nation. Again, this becomes of particular importance, when debating whether or not the vitki later evolved into the godhi: a sort of “priest-chieftain” of the later Viking Age. The expression “under the cloak” provides a definite suggestion for the use of the shawls and cloaks at Birka, implying that they were employed while sitting utiseta. It should also be mentioned at this juncture that in all of the aforementioned graves at Valsgarde, there was evidence of a heavy field-cloak or blanket having covered the bodies, over the shields.
Apart from the dubious reports of Adam of Bremen concerning Uppsala, written in the 11th century, we have no evidence or suggestion of a standing priesthood during the Vendel Period or the later Viking Age. Yet, we know for certain that festivals and rituals were observed in community and very publicly. In fact, most of the later post-Christian law codes were far more concerned with banning the activities of the “Heathen faith”, than with banning the beliefs associated with it. Someone would have needed to preside over such large public functions. In Heimskringla, we are told that in the later Viking Age, that person was the godhi, who was a chieftain, as well as a priest. This strongly suggests that in times preceding, and even contemporaneous, the vitki served the same purpose, his position later evolving into that of the godhi. As the “staff-carrier”, the volva would have served a similar purpose. It is strongly implied, throughout the later lore, that the carrying of the staff was often synonymous with acting as a sort of “representative” of the combined community. Within an agricultural and subsistence-based economy, it becomes very important not only to be able to predict things such as the phases of the moon and the passage of the seasons, but also where to hunt, and whether or not harvests might be favorable. The vitki and the volva provided services of divination, as well as having the ability to act as intermediaries between the Gods and the “Invisible Population” of the Landvaettir and other localized spirits. As such, the titles of spakona, spakerling, visendakona, spamadhr, and visendamadhr likely also applied to the volva and vitki, respectively. They were likely also sometimes labeled as fjolkyngismadhr, fjolkyngisberendr, fjolkyngiskona, heidhr, vitka, and fordaedha. Perhaps if they failed one too many times in their foretellings, or if they seemed to behave in some otherwise underhanded manner, they might be labeled falsspamadhr or villuspamadhr instead. One must keep in mind that in a society with a shamanic worldview, or really any non-doctrinal society for that matter, the mythic reality shapes the entire lifestyle of that culture. Such a worldview shapes ideas and emotions, and thus cultural values, while providing models of social behavior and, at the same time, legitimizing societal institutions. This readily explains how the vitki could easily evolve into the later priest-chieftains called godhi. I personally believe, given the practice of the Saami yoik by noaidi, and the heavy Saami influences we find, particularly at Valsgarde during the Vendel Period, that those who served as vitki and volva were more than likely also galdramadhr, galdrakarl, galdrasmidhr, galdraraumr, galdrameistari, galdradrengr, galdrakona, galdrakerling, galdrasnot, and galdrakind. Those titles centering around galdr are perhaps the most difficult to uncover or prove, as that was a magickal art based solely on the use of the human voice, through either chanting or singing. It is rather difficult to determine that from a pile of human bone dust! Unfortunately, as it did not require instrumental accompaniment, we cannot simply follow a trail of instruments-left-behind, either. Luckily, we have the science of cognitive archaeology to help us solve such mysteries!
So how does any or all of this translate into modern practice? Tools are one thing; what about action? If the original vitki carried a sword and shield, shouldn’t we do likewise today? Let’s begin by addressing that last question: Within the Iron Age mindset, sword and shield would have very readily been understood as symbols of representing and serving the community: the sword for protection (offensive), and the shield for defense. Yet, in our modern world, we tend to look at these “martial artifacts”, as previously discussed, as emblematic of the “Viking warrior ideal”, translating them far too simply as “this dude liked to fight, and could.” In short, we see them purely as symbols of violence, rather than as what they represented to those who first interred them in the Iron Age: symbols of protection, defense, representation, and service to the community. The utter lack of misinterpretation, when it comes to understandings of what a volva’s staff was meant to represent (even by scholars), tells us just how wide and deep this “chasm of misunderstanding” really reaches. Therefore, in an attempt to further dispel the “toxic masculinity” which has been fostered by these misinterpretations of “martial artifacts”, I have personally chosen to replace sword and shield with staff and box, bucket, or drum, even for the male vitki. I have also largely chosen to “reclaim” the drum, rather than promoting the use of buckets, boxes, or shields, partly because I believe it is of paramount importance that those outside of their culture come to fully understand precisely how the Saami were robbed of their culture (consistent contextual use of an item promotes respect and knowledge about that item and the culture from which it hails; that’s not theft, that’s education and preservation) and partly because most modern people will feel “less odd” using a drum, than they would beating on a box, bucket, or shield.
Clearly, we do not ourselves live in a largely agricultural and subsistence-based economy here in the modern world, so what place does the vitki or volva hold in our modern society, or, indeed, what place should they hold? What should their “jobs” be, in and for the community? For that matter, how do we even define the scope of that community? In the Iron Age, that word—community–admittedly had a much more specific (and limited) scope than in our modern day world of the internet, cell phones, and virtual telecommunications highways. There was no such understanding as a “global community” in the time of the Ancestors. Yet, times have definitely changed, and to ignore that fact is not only impossible, but profoundly narrow and, therefore, unfair or (arguably) unjust. The Iron Age understanding of community might best be understood as “those people on which one has impact, and who likewise have impact upon the individual”. Back then, that might number around 30-40 people, at the base level, perhaps reaching outward to include a couple hundred or more in nearby settlements who were within riding distance of the initial “impact point”. Today, we find ourselves in a world where a person in New England can literally have impact on a person living on the other side of the world in Australia, and vice versa, courtesy of the internet. Our interconnectedness is becoming a reality sharpened by technology; or it should be.
We must come to recognize a modern definition of community equal to that of the people of the Iron Age: “community is all those people on which we have impact as individuals, and who likewise have impact upon us, as individuals.” This means that the person on your social media friends’ list who lives in Timbuktu is as much a part of your community as your neighbor in the house next door. Your words and deeds have as much potential to harm the person in Timbuktu, as they do to harm the person who lives so close to you. As a vitki or a volva, we would do well to remember that, for words and deeds can harm, but they also have the potential to heal. As a vitki or volva, you don’t just represent the Heidhrinn community or even the Heathen community within that community: you represent this community to anyone and everyone who hears your title, and is told about your beliefs and practice. When you choose this path, and adopt its titles, you pick up the staff and become the Staff-Carrier for a global community.
How should a vitki or volva serve such a community, beyond educating people about the positive sides of our faith in a world where it has become much-maligned by people who claim the title of “Heathen”, but then shame their Ancestors? How can you possibly hope to assist, aid, help, or serve a global community? In the same small ways as our Ancestors: you may offer honest counsel via divination for those who come to you seeking such aid; you may lead rituals, blots, and prayers for those in need of such a leader; you may sit utiseta and attempt to contact the denizens of the Otherworld for specific assistance for individuals in need, or even simply for “the greater good” of that global community as a whole. You may choose to teach or write books, in an effort to represent and educate, and also to better the lives and practices of others. You may form and lead groups which offer community, companionship, education, and support. You may perform “spellwork”, prayer, and rituals for individuals in need, or on behalf of just causes in which you believe. You may also choose to aid, assist, help, and serve in ways that seem small and yet are not: donating to local food pantries, humane societies, women’s shelters; participating in marches for just causes; adopting a pet; promoting and actively participating in the stewardship of this planet; volunteering your time in service with associations such as Hospice, youth associations, or through your local hospital. As a vitki or a volva, you should never underestimate yourself, but at the same time, you must always remember: none of this is solely about you; this is about what you can do and should do for your community.
As in the historical period of the Iron Age, so likewise in the modern world: A Vitki is not a vitki in a vacuum. The elite burials left behind by the Ancestors of the Iron Age speak volumes: in a world where likely more than half of the population apparently received no burial at all, those who served as Vitki and Volva were given monumental burials, complete with grave-goods consisting of their ritual tools. Clearly, they were of extreme importance to their surrounding community; they were respected; perhaps looked upon with deep affection; possibly even sometimes feared. As a modern practicing vitki or volva, the community served isn’t just those who are related to you by blood or by race; nor is it limited to those who are your close friends or even fellow Heidhrinns or Heathens. No, as a modern practicing vitki or volva, in this technological age in which we live and as a practicing shaman, that community is the whole of humankind. Once you firmly and authentically take your place on this path, and pick up the staff, it then becomes your duty in this world and all Others to carry it, with hospitality, reciprocity, integrity, and honor.
But what of the other ritual specialists mentioned at the beginning of this blog series, and what about those who actually did practice seidhr? Join me next week as we begin to explore the path of the Troll-Rider: Trolldomr.
(Portions of this post appear in Heidhrinn Sidhr by Connla Freyjason, coming soon from Iaconagraphy Press; those portions and this entire blog are copyright 2019 and should not be copied without written permission.)
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