I write to you beneath a blanket on the beach outside Ventura. The night is crisp, the stars are bright, the tide thrums on, its baritone thump along the shores holding, forgiving, strengthening. I roll about on the sand, ask Jord, ask Njord for healing. My heart has been sad. I look up at the Milky Way. Gods, this is a beautiful world. In every way, beyond gorgeous. Heimdall lounges on his sparkling, silver-golden spackled bridge, sipping warm mead from a horn. I am cradled between Frey and Freya's parents. I seek the old wisdom of Fjollnir, the Wise One, the All-Father. I see how far Urd's wide hand stretches, weaving meaning, deep significance, even where we see none, where we see sorrow and tragedy. It is a riddle, but beyond a riddle, it is a mystery. It doesn't always make sense to us, and yet the truer we are to our being and all the call therein, the more we will see we are taken care of. Urd is very gentle in her large, unfathomable tides, crashing, overwhelming, and uncanny as they may seem to us.
I roll about, I hold my ribs, I breathe, I shake, I sob. I do not know what or why i do, but I trust the body and spirit. I need no reasons. I am an animal, and the earth knows what to do with me. All I need do is surrender, and trust the rhythm and the gentle madness. Ah, there, I sink into soul, soul, yes, find my pattern, feel my melancholy and my luck ; O joy, were they ever different? How lucky to have the sadness we have! I am deeply sad, and I am deeply happy. This messed up world is all it should be. It is just right, even though it ought to be better, and I will participate in my own humble way in making it better. Mainly by being myself, by fruiting every capacity within me, and giving my all.
That is the spirit of Yule. Giving your all to all you love. And friends, despite your petty quarrels and your serious strivings, I hope that circle of love ripples outward to finally touch all the children of the Gods, because if it does, then your love is truly strong enough to nourish you, and may you prove worthy of it.
Gratuity. That is Yule. The pure Gift of Being. Gods who are tough on you because Gods who love you, Gods who know you are worthy of a tough and fibrous world that you can meet. And you can make enough to share. There is abundance here, even in the cold.
The cold time of year comes. The sun is shrouded in veil, as a widow in mourning. Even she must take the time to be still, and heal sorrowed times by donning the black veil and doing homage to the melancholy of existence, so in time, through this toil, to release its inner joy. So it is good in this dawn of cold and dark to hail the light and effervesce in the warmth of each other's company, giving from the heart, raising cheer, and building morale for the slower, colder, more contemplative days to come. Spring has been promised to us -- as a gratuity. Life is all giving. Never let Gullveig blind you to that. A gift calls for a gift. That does not mean tit for tat. It means total giving. Life, friends, whether 'tis popular to say or no, is communist. On Yule we remind ourselves of this, so that the world of commerce inaugurated by Heid's distrust and greed does not engulf our entire being. This is practice for when Baldur returns. Sol's brief sojourn through cloudy veils of darkness is a yearly liturgy reminding us that when the larger year is over, just as Springtime will now come in a few months, so Baldur will return to rule a bold world of peace, freedom, adventure, and full giving, where trust is the rule and not the exception. Those are times to live towards, and in our holy tides, they are times we can live in seed right now. Frodi is ready to teach us that festive, communist spirit of giving today in the mirth of kith and kin ; and someday, someday as we evolve, we will naturally, as extensions of our stronger, more enlightened beings, stretch Yule out until that giving at last covers the whole year long, and then we will at last have exiled Gullveig for good! May that day come sooner than later, this holy tide promises, if we will heed its call in our hearts!
Dare to be an idealist today, if no other day. Peace on earth and good will towards men is a heathen value. Frodi's Frith is alive at Yule. Retouch that idealism underneath your grizzled self. Laugh, and remember it is one of the sources of your strength. Dare on this day to think large and imagine a world where the Mill once again churns out peace and plenty for all, a world where the Gift has returned to its rightful, central place, and all that mistrust poisoned into us in the dawn of time by Heid dissolves, banished with all her curses, for all time. That day may be long in coming, but friends, let that day live in your hearts today, and all the long fortnight of Yule! Here dreaming may begin again, renewing the year to come with blessfully needed spirit.
Beneath Night's cloak, on the milled flesh of Ymir that Frigga has lifted up into soul of Jord, by the crashing waves of Njord, I greet you and your kin this Yule, and wish all a good day, and good night!
Every parent knows, we have the honor of becoming Santa. Herein lies a great mystery and a truth. May we incarnate his great and mighty wisdom. Good night!
