Weal through Wyrd-Working

It is difficult to have faith in holy powers seeing as we are separated from them as by a veil (for it would seem maya is but another name for wyrd), the veil of what turns out out of the churning of possibility and potential, which is just brimming, but then we, the collective actors (all of us, not just humans, although the animals and plants and rocks tend to have more set routines, while we are more wild cards), select out of those our choices, and from what has been selected churns out as well as restricts the potential range of what may then turn out. In this churning lottery of fortune, things do not always turn out as foreseen or desired, and often terrible things happen. This makes it difficult to trust.

Yet even within this lottery there is a thread or central, helicized grip of strands through which the Gods wield and yield their weal, and Wyrd herself, mysterious and uncanny, also, throughout all the chaos, still weaves a kind of benevolence, if we can show faith towards that inner pulse of our wyrd, and look for the twist even in bad things that may yield another chance at wonder and opportunity -- difficult because we are primates with sensitive, even high-strung nervous systems (without which perception and wonder we would never have become the stars we are), highly subject to trauma and burnout. Yet even there, if we can trust healing and breathe through the traumas and our inevitable reactions and fits, moderating them as much as we may, we may, perhaps in a moment of relaxation sink down into an intuitive moment of clarity where we regain our sense of connection and possibility.

Of course, as long as we are divided against ourselves as a species, limited by nationality and competition and irrational warfare, our collective choices are overall impoverishing, even if some make it wealthy. There is now in modern times a great deal of intelligence released, but it is still attenuated, and has yet to reach the levels of cooperation that will render fortune more friendly. Then there will be a stronger matrix of choices out of which the Gods may infuse the churning and turning out of fortune with much greater weal.

In the meantime, and towards that, and all throughout it even and especially in its fulfillment, we must give what love we have to give, what love wishes to move through us, with as much fidelity as we can possibly muster. For love feeds the Gift. And we must cultivate a depth of faith in love that goes beneath apparent outcomes, failures, and refusals. For love is never wasted. It goes its way into the world when it is given, and does its work, despite us or what has turned out. Some may reject or refuse love, but love does its work regardless, even if it stays subterranean. It opens up tracks, guides ways, unveils unforeseen possibilities for good. Giving out love despite all seemings is one way we cultivate relationship to and trust in the Gift. In this process, we are called on, even as we take care of ourselves in our primate ways, with our bands and tribes and animal feelings, to stretch our sense of love beyond the narrow bandwidths of our past, towards the species as a whole, and even past that, towards the planet, and eventually, the whole cosmic tree itself, in time.

We will then feel the Gods much more directly, perhaps even without the mediation of names, in all their power and glory, having shed what alienation hindered us from the full experience of their benevolence and generosity, imminent in their goading and spurring and stirring of us! Oh yes, fortune will always be a lottery, and we, the darers, but as we evolve, and shed the husks of parochiality towards greater and stronger frith, species-wide and beyond the strife and division of classes borne in empire's wake, we will learn to tame the rough and sharp edges of fortune, rounding it out with our good will towards each other and the holy powers of this beloved cosmos, in the maturity of which our present sense of mutual aid is but a seed! Then we shall reap more the inner fruit of Wyrd, as what we give to be woven makes for better texture and sumptuous resilience on the loom. 

Yes, it is difficult, it is work, to trust what gifts the Gods amply give, through the blizzards the frost-giants blow! At times all we feel are the blizzards! It takes work to find that quiet place in the storm where we may sense something different. And then of course what gifts may come never come as expected -- the Gods do love surprise! Yule is the great sacrament we have been given, whose meditation, in time, sunk deep into our hearts, and yielding fruit in our actions, shall guide us on the paths towards our destiny and fulfillment! That is our Sabbath, our richly ceremonied symbol outfolding from which our great wealth we have yet to fully perceive! Yet that wine we shall sup! Yet that gushing mead we shall quaff!

It is good work to do the work of faith in the world of uncertain fortune, whose wheel is often fickle. We fund the universal treasury with every gift we take to fruition and release. What seems lost is only seeming. Sacrifice -- the sacred giving of the all of our being, purged of stinginess and all-too-easy cowardice -- feeds the world's weal. That does not mean that every moment calls on us to give up our lives in a final way as the final gift of that life we have been given, but rather is a call to make our whole life such rapture as we may manage, giving our full self in all the outpouring we can muster! That is the goal, the sacred telos, in the sacrament. Of course, we are mortals and fall short of goals. There is such a time as the morning, before we have had our coffee (or what have you), when grumbling seems much more certain than gift, and jolly, strong-in-matured-mirth Gods do not begrudge us our curmudgeonliness, given that we will do our work, and do it well. All will not be easy, though we aim for the ease that good honor brings, but the work shall make it worthwhile. Our falterings merely give poignance to our triumphs. O denizens of dark times, dreaming of Ragnarok, see instead coming Springtimes unforeseen! The winter storms are but flakes of frozen water blown about. Do not let inevitable gloom lower your sights. Greater sights await throughout the work.

The Wished-For Soul

Fold up these woven webs
Her womb-loom linen wove,
O Wyrd, and welcome back the wished-for soul.
Let Heron hold and hallow wet
The wetland, winged wight until
The moons have womb-rune made a newer nest
To bring that foundling feathered back.
With solemn sorrow, we await that blessed soul.



For a kinswoman who suffered a miscarriage.

The Wished-For Soul

Fold up these woven webs
Her womb-loom linen wove,
O Wyrd, and welcome back the wished-for soul.
Let Heron hold and hallow wet
The wetland, winged wight until
The moons have womb-rune made a newer nest
To bring that foundling feathered back.
With solemn sorrow, we await that blessed soul.



For a kinswoman who suffered a miscarriage.

The Wished-For Soul

Fold up these woven webs
Her womb-loom linen wove,
O Wyrd, and welcome back the wished-for soul.
Let Heron hold and hallow wet
The wetland, winged wight until
The moons have womb-rune made a newer nest
To bring that foundling feathered back.
With solemn sorrow, we await that blessed soul.



For a kinswoman who suffered a miscarriage.

Ghosts and the Medieval Village

From our archives: People who see ghosts and go on being rationalist/materialists do so because their social conditioning is stronger than the evidence of their senses. Whenever there is a rupture between the two it is uncomfortable, but if we decide to go with the social side it isn’t very uncomfortable because we just ignore any evidence and talk with our fellow-believers (which is why seeing ghosts makes so little difference to the scientism faithful). As for ghosts – well I don’t find ghosts very interesting in themselves, and I don’t pretend to know what they are (I don’t believe that the ”soul” is still present in a ghost – I think it is some kind of ”outer psychic shell” that the soul has shed but that still has a kind of emotion). But what is really fascinating is the way the dogma of materialism has reduced the state of information about ghosts to a pre-mass-communication level. Ghosts do exist. Lots of people experience them daily (many hauntings are just a part of the life of a particular building) or sometimes yearly (there are such things as annual hauntings on the anniversary of some particular event). They follow laws that have been verified over numerous cases and can accurately predict some of the phenomena that will be present in new cases. There are organizations that have carefully-kept records dating back to the latter part of the century before last. But because of the mythos or ideology of Western Telluria, all this knowledge is reduced to the anecdotal level – the state of knowledge that might be found in a remote village before the advent of the printing press. It is as if while one set of people possess a detailed collection of notebooks on the habits and biology of otters, everyone else is still arguing about whether otters actually exist, and the people who actually know all about otters aren’t listened to (and rarely even admitted to exist themselves) because – well otters aren’t a respectable subject. All very odd.

Ghosts and the Medieval Village

From our archives: People who see ghosts and go on being rationalist/materialists do so because their social conditioning is stronger than the evidence of their senses. Whenever there is a rupture between the two it is uncomfortable, but if we decide to go with the social side it isn’t very uncomfortable because we just ignore any evidence and talk with our fellow-believers (which is why seeing ghosts makes so little difference to the scientism faithful). As for ghosts – well I don’t find ghosts very interesting in themselves, and I don’t pretend to know what they are (I don’t believe that the ”soul” is still present in a ghost – I think it is some kind of ”outer psychic shell” that the soul has shed but that still has a kind of emotion). But what is really fascinating is the way the dogma of materialism has reduced the state of information about ghosts to a pre-mass-communication level. Ghosts do exist. Lots of people experience them daily (many hauntings are just a part of the life of a particular building) or sometimes yearly (there are such things as annual hauntings on the anniversary of some particular event). They follow laws that have been verified over numerous cases and can accurately predict some of the phenomena that will be present in new cases. There are organizations that have carefully-kept records dating back to the latter part of the century before last. But because of the mythos or ideology of Western Telluria, all this knowledge is reduced to the anecdotal level – the state of knowledge that might be found in a remote village before the advent of the printing press. It is as if while one set of people possess a detailed collection of notebooks on the habits and biology of otters, everyone else is still arguing about whether otters actually exist, and the people who actually know all about otters aren’t listened to (and rarely even admitted to exist themselves) because – well otters aren’t a respectable subject. All very odd.

Ghosts and the Medieval Village

From our archives: People who see ghosts and go on being rationalist/materialists do so because their social conditioning is stronger than the evidence of their senses. Whenever there is a rupture between the two it is uncomfortable, but if we decide to go with the social side it isn’t very uncomfortable because we just ignore any evidence and talk with our fellow-believers (which is why seeing ghosts makes so little difference to the scientism faithful). As for ghosts – well I don’t find ghosts very interesting in themselves, and I don’t pretend to know what they are (I don’t believe that the ”soul” is still present in a ghost – I think it is some kind of ”outer psychic shell” that the soul has shed but that still has a kind of emotion). But what is really fascinating is the way the dogma of materialism has reduced the state of information about ghosts to a pre-mass-communication level. Ghosts do exist. Lots of people experience them daily (many hauntings are just a part of the life of a particular building) or sometimes yearly (there are such things as annual hauntings on the anniversary of some particular event). They follow laws that have been verified over numerous cases and can accurately predict some of the phenomena that will be present in new cases. There are organizations that have carefully-kept records dating back to the latter part of the century before last. But because of the mythos or ideology of Western Telluria, all this knowledge is reduced to the anecdotal level – the state of knowledge that might be found in a remote village before the advent of the printing press. It is as if while one set of people possess a detailed collection of notebooks on the habits and biology of otters, everyone else is still arguing about whether otters actually exist, and the people who actually know all about otters aren’t listened to (and rarely even admitted to exist themselves) because – well otters aren’t a respectable subject. All very odd.

What do we mean by “Tradition”

An enquirer writes: I have an inquiry on the meaning of Traditional society. What do you mean by Traditional society? Because when I hear the word Tradition, it is rooted to me in Patriarchal Tradition. When I hear the word Tradition. I see a Traditional Family: Father, Mother, and Child (or Children), and the father is the breadwinner, Mother is the Homemaker, and child learns from the Mother, but the father is still supreme. I do not think a faith that believes in the Feminine universe, a primordial feminine being means this when they talk about the word Tradition. So what is Tradition? This is an interesting question and in a general sense is probably best answered by this quotation from The Feminine Universe.
We may readily see that the Traditional mode of society is oriented to states above the human and earthly. Every aspect of the life of a Traditional Society is lived in the light of Heaven. Its art, as we have seen, strives to depict not the earthly shadows of things, but the celestial Archetypes that lie behind them. Its crafts are not mere means to the manufacture of physical commodities, but each craft is a spiritual path, each operation performed in accordance with a sacred symbolism. This is why the factory system and the ‘industrial revolution’ could not happen until the traditional form of society had disintegrated..."
We would add that we hold no brief for patriarchal traditional societies. Really the point of the term "traditional" as it is used on this site is to refer to the way of thinking that is universal to humanity before the advent of the so-called "Enlightenment" with its materialist doctrines that govern modern thinking.

What do we mean by “Tradition”

An enquirer writes: I have an inquiry on the meaning of Traditional society. What do you mean by Traditional society? Because when I hear the word Tradition, it is rooted to me in Patriarchal Tradition. When I hear the word Tradition. I see a Traditional Family: Father, Mother, and Child (or Children), and the father is the breadwinner, Mother is the Homemaker, and child learns from the Mother, but the father is still supreme. I do not think a faith that believes in the Feminine universe, a primordial feminine being means this when they talk about the word Tradition. So what is Tradition? This is an interesting question and in a general sense is probably best answered by this quotation from The Feminine Universe.
We may readily see that the Traditional mode of society is oriented to states above the human and earthly. Every aspect of the life of a Traditional Society is lived in the light of Heaven. Its art, as we have seen, strives to depict not the earthly shadows of things, but the celestial Archetypes that lie behind them. Its crafts are not mere means to the manufacture of physical commodities, but each craft is a spiritual path, each operation performed in accordance with a sacred symbolism. This is why the factory system and the ‘industrial revolution’ could not happen until the traditional form of society had disintegrated..."
We would add that we hold no brief for patriarchal traditional societies. Really the point of the term "traditional" as it is used on this site is to refer to the way of thinking that is universal to humanity before the advent of the so-called "Enlightenment" with its materialist doctrines that govern modern thinking.

What do we mean by “Tradition”

An enquirer writes: I have an inquiry on the meaning of Traditional society. What do you mean by Traditional society? Because when I hear the word Tradition, it is rooted to me in Patriarchal Tradition. When I hear the word Tradition. I see a Traditional Family: Father, Mother, and Child (or Children), and the father is the breadwinner, Mother is the Homemaker, and child learns from the Mother, but the father is still supreme. I do not think a faith that believes in the Feminine universe, a primordial feminine being means this when they talk about the word Tradition. So what is Tradition? This is an interesting question and in a general sense is probably best answered by this quotation from The Feminine Universe.
We may readily see that the Traditional mode of society is oriented to states above the human and earthly. Every aspect of the life of a Traditional Society is lived in the light of Heaven. Its art, as we have seen, strives to depict not the earthly shadows of things, but the celestial Archetypes that lie behind them. Its crafts are not mere means to the manufacture of physical commodities, but each craft is a spiritual path, each operation performed in accordance with a sacred symbolism. This is why the factory system and the ‘industrial revolution’ could not happen until the traditional form of society had disintegrated..."
We would add that we hold no brief for patriarchal traditional societies. Really the point of the term "traditional" as it is used on this site is to refer to the way of thinking that is universal to humanity before the advent of the so-called "Enlightenment" with its materialist doctrines that govern modern thinking.

A Dwarvish Day

Hail the hall-stone, high-pillared gem-gens,
Whom Bor's fallen foe's broken bones
Restore from stench to polished stones!
Hail brindle-brows of breathtaking peaks
Whose carved caverns are hill-castles,
Peacock-plumed with precious jewels,
And lined with long-ages forged luxuries!
Hail the slumber of sleeping Mim's sons,
Who arms at arm's length awesome wait
To take up polished tusk and try their might
To guard the green gown of Earth's skirts
Beneath which nether treasures gnoll ;
The ancestors' antique grave-guardians of old
Who bless the buried bones with art
Enjewel-joying their nether journeys
From wisdom to wisdom, and wyrdwards.
Hail tawny traders in teardrops of Freya,
Stone-strung in blissful bright of jewel-strangle,
Nurtured each in one night nether-tumble
Of tantric tingle of teased-out genius!
Hail the hoard-holders of Jord!
Who grow in granite gardens marvels from the deep!
Soul of solemn depth-ceremonies
Held in the harvest of holy Hel-shrines!
Today the dearest dead return to visit,
To choose their cheer in charming feasts! Hail!

A Dwarvish Day

Hail the hall-stone, high-pillared gem-gens,
Whom Bor's fallen foe's broken bones
Restore from stench to polished stones!
Hail brindle-brows of breathtaking peaks
Whose carved caverns are hill-castles,
Peacock-plumed with precious jewels,
And lined with long-ages forged luxuries!
Hail the slumber of sleeping Mim's sons,
Who arms at arm's length awesome wait
To take up polished tusk and try their might
To guard the green gown of Earth's skirts
Beneath which nether treasures gnoll ;
The ancestors' antique grave-guardians of old
Who bless the buried bones with art
Enjewel-joying their nether journeys
From wisdom to wisdom, and wyrdwards.
Hail tawny traders in teardrops of Freya,
Stone-strung in blissful bright of jewel-strangle,
Nurtured each in one night nether-tumble
Of tantric tingle of teased-out genius!
Hail the hoard-holders of Jord!
Who grow in granite gardens marvels from the deep!
Soul of solemn depth-ceremonies
Held in the harvest of holy Hel-shrines!
Today the dearest dead return to visit,
To choose their cheer in charming feasts! Hail!

A Dwarvish Day

Hail the hall-stone, high-pillared gem-gens,
Whom Bor's fallen foe's broken bones
Restore from stench to polished stones!
Hail brindle-brows of breathtaking peaks
Whose carved caverns are hill-castles,
Peacock-plumed with precious jewels,
And lined with long-ages forged luxuries!
Hail the slumber of sleeping Mim's sons,
Who arms at arm's length awesome wait
To take up polished tusk and try their might
To guard the green gown of Earth's skirts
Beneath which nether treasures gnoll ;
The ancestors' antique grave-guardians of old
Who bless the buried bones with art
Enjewel-joying their nether journeys
From wisdom to wisdom, and wyrdwards.
Hail tawny traders in teardrops of Freya,
Stone-strung in blissful bright of jewel-strangle,
Nurtured each in one night nether-tumble
Of tantric tingle of teased-out genius!
Hail the hoard-holders of Jord!
Who grow in granite gardens marvels from the deep!
Soul of solemn depth-ceremonies
Held in the harvest of holy Hel-shrines!
Today the dearest dead return to visit,
To choose their cheer in charming feasts! Hail!

My Book Is Out!

Bringing Earth and Sky Together, the three-volume set of all writings up to 2011 on this blog, is now available for a special Yuletime offer of $51.00 for all three. That's over 1500 pages of essays, prayers, poems, provocations, proverbs, and much, much more!

Volume I

Volume II  

Volume III

Go over and check them out! Buy one volume or all three volumes for family, friends, and kindred! This will make an impressive tome on a bookshelf or coffee table, and provide spiritual guidance and intellectual ferment for years to come.

Many have told me that a webpage is simply too difficult to look at to digest all this work. Now you can have it in print and digest it at your leisure! Underline, take notes, photocopy pages, use as a meditation guide.

There is literally nothing like this out there. This will become a treasured part of your library. Act now to have these presents ready for Yule, or, order for the New Year!

My Book Is Out!

Bringing Earth and Sky Together, the three-volume set of all writings up to 2011 on this blog, is now available for a special Yuletime offer of $51.00 for all three. That's over 1500 pages of essays, prayers, poems, provocations, proverbs, and much, much more!

Volume I

Volume II  

Volume III

Go over and check them out! Buy one volume or all three volumes for family, friends, and kindred! This will make an impressive tome on a bookshelf or coffee table, and provide spiritual guidance and intellectual ferment for years to come.

Many have told me that a webpage is simply too difficult to look at to digest all this work. Now you can have it in print and digest it at your leisure! Underline, take notes, photocopy pages, use as a meditation guide.

There is literally nothing like this out there. This will become a treasured part of your library. Act now to have these presents ready for Yule, or, order for the New Year!

My Book Is Out!

Bringing Earth and Sky Together, the three-volume set of all writings up to 2011 on this blog, is now available for a special Yuletime offer of $51.00 for all three. That's over 1500 pages of essays, prayers, poems, provocations, proverbs, and much, much more!

Volume I

Volume II  

Volume III

Go over and check them out! Buy one volume or all three volumes for family, friends, and kindred! This will make an impressive tome on a bookshelf or coffee table, and provide spiritual guidance and intellectual ferment for years to come.

Many have told me that a webpage is simply too difficult to look at to digest all this work. Now you can have it in print and digest it at your leisure! Underline, take notes, photocopy pages, use as a meditation guide.

There is literally nothing like this out there. This will become a treasured part of your library. Act now to have these presents ready for Yule, or, order for the New Year!

How Does Loki Serve Odin?

Why did Odin keep Loki around? Did you ever ask yourself that question?


When you're a leader, you need contrary as well as highly unique positions close to you to use as a foil. You have to be the one to hold things together in council, but having someone who will speak up for the obnoxious or extremist position is extraordinarily useful, because then you can moderate them, but utilize the force that lies in their argument to press for more radical changes within the council.

See, any group of people have a basic goodness inhering in their community frith, but there can be a tendency towards stagnancy, and if you represent an essentially dynamic force, then you need an agent to stir things up so you can get forward motion, if you can keep that agent on a leash.

For the time that Odin was able to keep him on a leash, Loki served well. He kept people on their toes and tested their wits, sometimes, even often, to wits' ends.



But everything has its limits, and every fool is a fool. Chaotic forces worked through Loki, and he became the undoer of everything he had served. A tangler, he became entangled in intrigues from which he could not extricate himself, where every move took him deeper and deeper into a sinister web. (Let us remember that all jesters are not benevolent! Remember Tom Skelton, Fool of Muncaster:



This lovely sadist of a jester would hang by the roadside as visitors came along the path seeking the castle, and if he liked them, he sent them on the way towards the castle, and if he didn't, he directed them off to the quicksands and bogs, where they could drown in the marsh. A carpenter who stole a couple coins from him ended up decapitated, his head thrown in wood shavings, upon which Tom allegedly said, according to legend (which is all this may be : ghost story around legend, but certainly a folk-figure form of a sinister jester in any case), "He'll have less luck finding his head than he did my shillings," or something to that effect. Mad as a hatter.)

Loki himself was driven mad.



We hear the refrain several times in Lokasenna. Heimdall tells him he is örvita, "out of his wits". Both Odin and Freya, call him ærr, "mad" or "frenzied". Of course! He had swallowed the heart of Gullveig, whose crazed angst (Angrboda) was well-known and ill-famed, and everything in him began to turn inside-out. He was the best of jesters, turned into the worst of jesters, with a sense of humor that could kill. He turned the elves against the dwarves, masterminded Baldur's death, and set men on earth to war against each other, with an increasingly sociopathic caprice and devil-may-care jollity in line with Tom Fool's sadistic lacksadaisy. Deeper and deeper into the net that he wove, tricked into his own trickery, mad, crazed, fool, and interestingly, as Snorri attests, he was caught in the pattern of the very net he made. A telling metaphor.




And it is not that Odin did not see this possibility, but sought to use as thoroughly and deeply as possible even those who might one day turn or be turned, in order to drive things onward, and implant unforeseen, unpredictable possibilities in unseen seed-forms into the fabric and texture of wyrd, there to unfold as creative surprises.

The rabid fool, frothing at the mouth in frenzy, out of his wits and outwitted, still has fool's proverbs to share, bitter half-jokes and crazed prophecies, quarter-bits of wisdom, and fragments of old satires to bring the mirth of gall. But still mad.




Yet up to this very limit, a fool is a wise man's best friend, because a fool allows a wise man to play the fool while remaining wise. Everyone needs a good idiot, someone not afraid to make an ass of themselves, particularly in the pursuit of an important aspect of truth that everyone else is neglecting to their peril. This may be a dangerous truth that no one wants to touch, an aspect too controversial for a leader to propose outright, yet which moderated, might prove catalytic. Having such a foil is very useful indeed ...

Perhaps you have sorely felt at times the absence of an asshead, who will leap into the center of the circle and cry outrageous things, for then it saves you the ridicule and opprobrium that come as jester-costs, while allowing you to wisely draw out what kernel lies in the scandal or controversy they dared expose publicly. A king and his court fool.


How Does Loki Serve Odin?

Why did Odin keep Loki around? Did you ever ask yourself that question?


When you're a leader, you need contrary as well as highly unique positions close to you to use as a foil. You have to be the one to hold things together in council, but having someone who will speak up for the obnoxious or extremist position is extraordinarily useful, because then you can moderate them, but utilize the force that lies in their argument to press for more radical changes within the council.

See, any group of people have a basic goodness inhering in their community frith, but there can be a tendency towards stagnancy, and if you represent an essentially dynamic force, then you need an agent to stir things up so you can get forward motion, if you can keep that agent on a leash.

For the time that Odin was able to keep him on a leash, Loki served well. He kept people on their toes and tested their wits, sometimes, even often, to wits' ends.



But everything has its limits, and every fool is a fool. Chaotic forces worked through Loki, and he became the undoer of everything he had served. A tangler, he became entangled in intrigues from which he could not extricate himself, where every move took him deeper and deeper into a sinister web. (Let us remember that all jesters are not benevolent! Remember Tom Skelton, Fool of Muncaster:



This lovely sadist of a jester would hang by the roadside as visitors came along the path seeking the castle, and if he liked them, he sent them on the way towards the castle, and if he didn't, he directed them off to the quicksands and bogs, where they could drown in the marsh. A carpenter who stole a couple coins from him ended up decapitated, his head thrown in wood shavings, upon which Tom allegedly said, according to legend (which is all this may be : ghost story around legend, but certainly a folk-figure form of a sinister jester in any case), "He'll have less luck finding his head than he did my shillings," or something to that effect. Mad as a hatter.)

Loki himself was driven mad.



We hear the refrain several times in Lokasenna. Heimdall tells him he is örvita, "out of his wits". Both Odin and Freya, call him ærr, "mad" or "frenzied". Of course! He had swallowed the heart of Gullveig, whose crazed angst (Angrboda) was well-known and ill-famed, and everything in him began to turn inside-out. He was the best of jesters, turned into the worst of jesters, with a sense of humor that could kill. He turned the elves against the dwarves, masterminded Baldur's death, and set men on earth to war against each other, with an increasingly sociopathic caprice and devil-may-care jollity in line with Tom Fool's sadistic lacksadaisy. Deeper and deeper into the net that he wove, tricked into his own trickery, mad, crazed, fool, and interestingly, as Snorri attests, he was caught in the pattern of the very net he made. A telling metaphor.




And it is not that Odin did not see this possibility, but sought to use as thoroughly and deeply as possible even those who might one day turn or be turned, in order to drive things onward, and implant unforeseen, unpredictable possibilities in unseen seed-forms into the fabric and texture of wyrd, there to unfold as creative surprises.

The rabid fool, frothing at the mouth in frenzy, out of his wits and outwitted, still has fool's proverbs to share, bitter half-jokes and crazed prophecies, quarter-bits of wisdom, and fragments of old satires to bring the mirth of gall. But still mad.




Yet up to this very limit, a fool is a wise man's best friend, because a fool allows a wise man to play the fool while remaining wise. Everyone needs a good idiot, someone not afraid to make an ass of themselves, particularly in the pursuit of an important aspect of truth that everyone else is neglecting to their peril. This may be a dangerous truth that no one wants to touch, an aspect too controversial for a leader to propose outright, yet which moderated, might prove catalytic. Having such a foil is very useful indeed ...

Perhaps you have sorely felt at times the absence of an asshead, who will leap into the center of the circle and cry outrageous things, for then it saves you the ridicule and opprobrium that come as jester-costs, while allowing you to wisely draw out what kernel lies in the scandal or controversy they dared expose publicly. A king and his court fool.


How Does Loki Serve Odin?

Why did Odin keep Loki around? Did you ever ask yourself that question?


When you're a leader, you need contrary as well as highly unique positions close to you to use as a foil. You have to be the one to hold things together in council, but having someone who will speak up for the obnoxious or extremist position is extraordinarily useful, because then you can moderate them, but utilize the force that lies in their argument to press for more radical changes within the council.

See, any group of people have a basic goodness inhering in their community frith, but there can be a tendency towards stagnancy, and if you represent an essentially dynamic force, then you need an agent to stir things up so you can get forward motion, if you can keep that agent on a leash.

For the time that Odin was able to keep him on a leash, Loki served well. He kept people on their toes and tested their wits, sometimes, even often, to wits' ends.



But everything has its limits, and every fool is a fool. Chaotic forces worked through Loki, and he became the undoer of everything he had served. A tangler, he became entangled in intrigues from which he could not extricate himself, where every move took him deeper and deeper into a sinister web. (Let us remember that all jesters are not benevolent! Remember Tom Skelton, Fool of Muncaster:



This lovely sadist of a jester would hang by the roadside as visitors came along the path seeking the castle, and if he liked them, he sent them on the way towards the castle, and if he didn't, he directed them off to the quicksands and bogs, where they could drown in the marsh. A carpenter who stole a couple coins from him ended up decapitated, his head thrown in wood shavings, upon which Tom allegedly said, according to legend (which is all this may be : ghost story around legend, but certainly a folk-figure form of a sinister jester in any case), "He'll have less luck finding his head than he did my shillings," or something to that effect. Mad as a hatter.)

Loki himself was driven mad.



We hear the refrain several times in Lokasenna. Heimdall tells him he is örvita, "out of his wits". Both Odin and Freya, call him ærr, "mad" or "frenzied". Of course! He had swallowed the heart of Gullveig, whose crazed angst (Angrboda) was well-known and ill-famed, and everything in him began to turn inside-out. He was the best of jesters, turned into the worst of jesters, with a sense of humor that could kill. He turned the elves against the dwarves, masterminded Baldur's death, and set men on earth to war against each other, with an increasingly sociopathic caprice and devil-may-care jollity in line with Tom Fool's sadistic lacksadaisy. Deeper and deeper into the net that he wove, tricked into his own trickery, mad, crazed, fool, and interestingly, as Snorri attests, he was caught in the pattern of the very net he made. A telling metaphor.




And it is not that Odin did not see this possibility, but sought to use as thoroughly and deeply as possible even those who might one day turn or be turned, in order to drive things onward, and implant unforeseen, unpredictable possibilities in unseen seed-forms into the fabric and texture of wyrd, there to unfold as creative surprises.

The rabid fool, frothing at the mouth in frenzy, out of his wits and outwitted, still has fool's proverbs to share, bitter half-jokes and crazed prophecies, quarter-bits of wisdom, and fragments of old satires to bring the mirth of gall. But still mad.




Yet up to this very limit, a fool is a wise man's best friend, because a fool allows a wise man to play the fool while remaining wise. Everyone needs a good idiot, someone not afraid to make an ass of themselves, particularly in the pursuit of an important aspect of truth that everyone else is neglecting to their peril. This may be a dangerous truth that no one wants to touch, an aspect too controversial for a leader to propose outright, yet which moderated, might prove catalytic. Having such a foil is very useful indeed ...

Perhaps you have sorely felt at times the absence of an asshead, who will leap into the center of the circle and cry outrageous things, for then it saves you the ridicule and opprobrium that come as jester-costs, while allowing you to wisely draw out what kernel lies in the scandal or controversy they dared expose publicly. A king and his court fool.