The Wild Hunt (https://wildhunt.org/tag/iceland/page/2)
Like a “Sunday Catholic” who is extremely devout on Sunday mornings but lives a decidedly un-Christian life for the rest of the week, we can all too easily make grand speeches over the drinking horn at blót but neglect to put intention into action when we step out into the wider world. Are we honoring the ancestors in our lives? Or are we dishonoring them?
Týr guides us, keeps faith with us, stays the course us, and never fails us. In the sometimes-wild world of the Norse deities, that stability and faithfulness can bring great comfort to those who seek it.
Over the past week, Democrats have giddily celebrated the ascension of Kamala Harris to the top of the ticket. That’s great, but it doesn’t deal with the issue of elderly leaders in this nation of ours. Maybe the tale of Egil Skallagrimsson, the Viking poet who lived to old age, has something to teach us here.
I was twenty-one, and that was the first time I had ever seen the ocean. I slept that night as close to the window as I could, straining my ears for the sound of waves. The ocean was a poetic trope, the longing of Tolkien’s elves, a setting for adventure and tragedy. I loved the idea of it, and I wanted to be lulled into sleep like the heroes of my favorite books, but that was all I knew of the water.
Sometimes, the Mead of Poetry works indirectly. An old rock ‘n’ roll song is stuck on repeat in my head, spinning unceasingly between my ears. Actually, it’s not even an entire song. It’s just a verse or a chorus or sometimes only a line or two. Someone else’s creative creation gets lodged in there, doing work on my mind that only I can hear.