The Witching Hour?
Say the word “witch”, much less call yourself one, in most Heathen circles, and you’d better batten down the hatches and hold on tight, because it’s gonna be a bumpy ride! Yet there are multiple titles within the secondary sources (i.e., the written lore) that literally translate as witch, wizard, or sorcerer:
vitka: “sorceress”; “witch”
fjolkyngiskona: “sorceress”; “witch”; literally: “magic-woman” or “witch-woman”
heidhr: “bright sorceress”; “bright witch”; “shining sorceress”; “shining witch”
fordaedha: “witch”; “sorceress”
flagdhkona:“witch”; “sorceress” (possible negative associations; definite associations with trolls and trolldomr)
fala: “witch”; “sorceress” (as with flagdhkona)
gygr: “witch”; “sorceress” (as with flagdhkona)
hala: “witch”; “sorceress” (as with flagdhkona)
skass: “witch”; “sorceress” (as with flagdhkona)
trollridha: “rider of witchcraft”
vitki: “sorceror”; “wizard”
fjolkyngismadhr:“sorcerer”; “wizard”; literally: “magic-man” or “wizard-man”
gerningamadhr: “sorcerer”; “wizard”; “man who enchants”
(Sourced from Neil Price, The Viking Way, 2002).
In modern Witchcraft of the non-Heathen variety, one of the most frequently asked questions of practitioners is typically “are you a good witch or a bad witch?” but within this faith-system which is supposedly Historical Reconstructionist and based out of Scandinavia and the Germanic Traditions, the most frequently asked question seems to be instead “are you a witch at all?” And the required answer seems to be “No. We’re not witches. That’s those other people.” Except, historically, that wasn’t the case. In fact, almost every ounce of imagery associated in the modern world with witches–riding on broomsticks (or anything else) through the sky; maintaining familiars; using wands and staffs–comes straight out of Scandinavian Traditions going all the way back to 560 AD, and possibly even further.
I’ll confess: I’m not feeling terribly “witchy” this year, and apparently I’m not the only one. Speaking with friends and family, I’ve found that most of the people I know who are attempting to follow the Norse Gods right now are experiencing general feelings of malaise as Halloween/Samhain/Alfablot approaches. Now, granted, some of that is due to some things that have gone down recently in our own inner circle, but I have it on some pretty good authority (Freyr) that that’s not the only reason. So, let’s talk history, and then let’s talk mystery, and see if we can somehow free ourselves from the “rampant ickies” before the day gets into full swing, shall we?
I call myself a Norse Witch because that’s precisely what I am. I call myself that first, before vitki, godhi, or anything else, because that was the first thing I realized I was. I realized I was that because I realized our Ancestors who called themselves vitki and godhi, volva and gydhja, were that. I realized that because Freyja said “yo, you are this.” And then the history, as I learned it, filled in the blanks, and I had little choice but to agree. Those historical blanks just keep getting filled, and I find myself wanting to scream the reality I’m discovering from the rooftops, yet I suddenly find myself in a position where I no longer feel like anyone is listening.
Supposedly, there is an old Chinese curse that says: “May you live in interesting times.” Clearly, they meant now! You cannot surf very many sites geared to mystically-minded people, whether those people label themselves Witches, Pagans, Heathens, or something else, without encountering at least one post stating emphatically “something is coming“, and none of them mean a good something. Now, I don’t mean to get all doomsday-prophecy-eschatological on y’all here, but when 75% or more of the modern “mystical population” is waving their arms and shouting “something is coming”, that probably actually means something! Fifteen minutes watching the evening news tends to back up their claims. I have seen numerous calls to arms from all different sides of the “mystical equation”, for us to all come together, hunker down, put our shoulders to it, and actively work together, regardless of our claimed paths, to turn the tide. Yet I have also seen some of those same people who call for such actively doing everything they can, behind the scenes, to make sure we all stay scattered, if not, indeed, broken. There’s a lot of witchcraft going on in the public sphere, and a lot of bitchcraft going on underneath. Perhaps that is one source of this sense of overriding malaise.
So let’s take a step back for a moment from the “interesting times” of the modern world, and look at those historical blanks, and what they might be getting filled with. I have spent the past two months, as many of you know, embroiled in an intense educational sabbatical. I’ve learned everything I can about archaeology, and how it works, and how one can apply its principles to the study of material culture, because, let’s face it: artifacts and features (i.e., architecture; other non-moving-parts that are excavated) are the only real primary source we have for life in the Viking Age and before. The lore, like it or not, is a secondary source written down hundreds of years after the fact. My main concentration has been the pre-Viking Age Vendel Period, a time long before Christianity ever reared its head among the Scandinavians, and specifically the Vendel Period in Uppland Sweden because, also like it or not, the faith-system of the ancient Norse was not Orthodox or “across-the-board”; it was actually exceedingly location specific (Hultgard, 2008; Price, 2002, 2004, 2012).
What I’ve found is that theirs (the people of Uppland Sweden during the Vendel Period) was not a martial culture at all. All those swords, helmets, and shields that everybody and their cousin wants to claim as the signs of the “mighty warrior” culture of the pre-Viking Age people? Yeah, no. Metallurgy has proven that those swords would’ve snapped like kindling if they had ever seen warfare (Norr & Sundkvist, 1995), the helmets would have been deadly after one blow to the face (Danielsson, 2010), and the shields were far too cumbersome to have been carried into battle (or, really, carried much of anywhere for any reason). They were purely ceremonial, and the arrangement of grave-goods in the boat graves of Valsgarde suggests that they were the tools of the vitki, not the warrior (Tolley, 2016). Theirs was, essentially, a culture led by “shamanic witches”. (I swear I’m not making that up: I’ll publish more of the historical basis soon, but let’s leave it at I have 3-5 pages of bibliography and almost 500 man-hours of hard research-work to back me up.)
So what did they do–or would they have done–when faced with “interesting times”? Certainly, they couldn’t afford to crawl into their beds, pull their covers over their heads, and whine “I don’t feel like vitki-ing today” (or “volva-ing”, as the case may be). No, they well-understood that the fate of the community rested on their shoulders, and that a divided community was eventually going to be a dead one. Sowing seeds of dissent would only lead to a poor yield at the harvest, and a poor yield equaled starvation. That was a very real thing. It’s a real thing now, too, just in a different way. Instead of enforcing a “my vett is louder than your vett” (i.e., the shield, box lid, or kettle lid on which one beat like a drum) mentality, they looked around at what needed doing in and with and for the community, and then they buckled down, and they made that happen, magickally, if necessary.
What kind of magick? Astral travel, inducing trance with the beating of the aforementioned vett; spirit communication and mediation, again, often with the help of beating on the vett. They made offerings, often via libation, in the form of pouring blot, but also fire offerings (strike-a-light has been found in virtually every boat grave at Valsgarde; one even contained an enormous “fire dog”: the huge metal objects used to hold logs while they burned), not only to the Gods, but also to the rest of the “invisible population”: the Kind Wights, whether Landvaettir or Husvaettir; the Dvergar (Dwarves); the Alfar and the Huldrafolk. When they felt the sort of malaise many of us are feeling right now, they sat utiseta, sometimes under a cloak, other times under a shield, and yet other times just as likely bare-headed, so that the wind could whip their faces. When necessary, they went within, so that they could be better equipped with what was going on without (outside, in the community).
Alfablot–what others speak of as Samhain or Halloween–is the perfect time for us to do precisely that: go within. We only have two accounts of Alfablot in the lore: one in the skaldic poem Austrfararvisur and the other in Kormak’s Saga. The former dates from the 10th-11th century AD, while the latter may have been composed in the 10th century, but was not officially written down likely until the 13th or 14th century AD. In Austrfararvisur, Sigvatr the Skald tells of his harrowing journey through Sweden, which included an event at a household where he was rudely turned away because the people there were observing Alfablot. I have seen supposedly respected people in our community–people who are, by whatever circumstance, viewed as “in a position of authority”–argue hands-down and supposedly claiming as fact that Sigvatr was turned away from that household specifically because he was Christian. The truth is, good ole Sigvatr served Christian leaders as a skald, and, therefore, seriously “reigned in” any and all pro-Heathen references in his poetry because that was part of his job, but there remains zero conclusive evidence that he was, himself, a Christian. The simple, basic, historical truth of the matter is that they more than likely turned good ole Sigvatr away because Alfablot was a solitary observance done in people’s homes, exclusively with their families. In other words: it was an observance of going within.
Yet, why specifically at Alfablot? Again, I am speaking only of Sweden, but then again, so was Sigvatr. Every ounce of evidence from the material culture, when coupled with the few textual sources which might actually be considered even remotely a primary source (i.e., Beowulf), suggests that the faith-base in Sweden was Vanic, rather than Odinnic; intrinsically bound up in the ancestral cult of Yngvi-Freyr. Alfablot marked the absolute end of the harvest season, and the “last step”, if you will, before Yule began on November 8th. Where do I get that date for the beginning of the Yule season? It has been proven by a theoretical physicist at Uppsala University that the Thing Mound at Gamla Uppsala exhibits intentional astrological alignment, coinciding with the sunsets on February 3 (marking the beginning of Disablot or Disthing) and November 8 (marking the beginning of the Yule season), and with sunrise on April 29 (marking the beginning of spring, and more than likely suggesting the existence of a previous fertility festival similar to modern Beltaine) (Henriksson, 2013). As such, Alfablot would very much have represented a “changing of the guard”, insofar as which “forces were at work” within the “invisible population”: a time when Freyr not only went “under the mound”, but also ascended to Alfheim. As such, it was a time when the veils began to thin; when the Ancestors might come for a visit, because they could. The thinning of the veils, however, meant that “other things” might likewise be afoot, meaning that you would not answer the door to unexpected visitors, in case those visitors might not be of the mundane, living-breathing variety. Likewise, you would turn away people you did not readily recognize, for how could you be certain they were honestly who and what they said they were? All of this makes Alfablot naturally a perfect time for going within.
For the past two months, I have done as it seems the Ancestors did: I have used every naptime, breaktime, and downtime available to sit utiseta as often as I possibly can. Sometimes, things come; sometimes, not. The quiet and inactivity is welcome, regardless. Yet on at least one of those occasions, I did hear a voice, and I do believe, in my heart-of-hearts that voice was Freyr, for it’s not the first time I’ve heard from Him. You can choose to take this to heart for what I believe it really is, or you can not: that’s up to you and on you. If you prefer to listen purely as a metaphor, I’m down with whatever works, so long as it’s heard:
“Something is coming–but that something’s not Surtr; it’s not the Ragnarok they’ve spoken of all these years. Time moves in cycles, not end-point to end-point, anyway. But something is near, and it’s almost here. And it isn’t a choiceless thing: whether it is a death, a birth, or a rebirth will be up to the people. Some among the people will cry doomsday; try to ‘fear’ people into becoming more active, in order to make themselves feel important. Some will cry hope and make empty promises that they know they cannot possibly keep. Still others will feel like they want to run away, but find they are frozen to their spot. I tell you: be still. Enter the silence, and know.Hold your dear ones near, and fortify the walls against those who are not: against those who have proven they are out to divide and to steal; to bring down and destroy; to make themselves more than and others less. Hold that silence; soak it up and into you, and let it become power. And when that something comes, dig in your heels and let yourself become the wall: protect, defend, and most of all, heal.”
Use your malaise: let it be an invitation to go within. Pour blot for your Ancestors, and for all those who have gone before us who have facilitated our being here, as well as our simply being. Light a fire; light a candle; burn incense: make of this a fire offering to the “invisible population”, both Gods and Wights. Hold your dear ones near, and fortify the walls, so that you can become the wall, when necessary. As the children come a-knocking on this All-Hallow’s-Eve, remind yourself that every face, whether behind a mask or not, is that of the future. Bless them for that, and pray, in the quiet, once the porch-light is off, that it will be a bright one, and that within it, you may come into your own, finally, as a bright, shining witch, like Heidhr.
Connla Freyjason is the author of Norse Witch: Reclaiming the Heidhrinn Heart and Blessings of Fire and Ice: A Norse Witch Devotional, both of which are currently available from Iaconagraphy Press.
BIBLIOGRAPHY
Danielsson, Ing-Marie Back. “Sense and Sensibility: Masking Practices in Late Iron Age Boat-Graves.” Making Sense of Things: Archaeologies of Sensory Perception. Department of Archaeology and Classical Studies, Stockholm University, 2010, pp. 121-140.
Hultgard, Anders. “The Religion of the Vikings.” The Viking World, Stefan Brink & Neil Price (eds.), Routledge, 2008, pp. 212-218.
Norr, Svante & Sundkvist, Anneli. “Valsgarde Revisited: Fieldwork Resumed After 40 Years”. Tor 27, Department of Archaeology, Uppsala University, Gustavianum, 1995.
Price, Neil S. The Viking Way: Religion and War in Late Iron Age Scandinavia. Oxbow, 2002.
Price, Neil. “The Archaeology of Seidhr: Circumpoloar Traditions in Viking Pre-Christian Religion.” Vinland Revisited: The Norse World at the Turn of the First Millennium, HSANL, St. John’s, 2004, pp. 277-294.
Price, Neil, speaker. “The Viking Mind: The Children of Ash: Cosmology and the Viking Universe”, November 5, 2012, CornellCast.
Tolley, Clive. “The Hunting of the Vétt: In Search of the Old Norse Shamanic Drum.” Shaman, 2016.
