PBP Week 30-31: O—Ordeals

I keep wanting to write a post about ordeal work in the heathen community (I tried a little herebut I keep finding that I don’t have anything to say.

That’s not true—I have lots to say. But I would never presume to interject myself or my views into the relationships of others and their gods. No matter how little those relationships resemble my experiences and ongoing relationships with gods who identify by the same names.

And I find that’s exactly what happens when heathens start talking about ordeal work: everyone wants to tell someone else that they are doing it wrong.

Instead, I thought I’d share some lovely art and odd images.[1]

swiped from yuleshamanism.com

“Odin Hanging on the World-Tree” from Franz Stassen, Illustrations for Die Edda (1920), found at germanicmythology.com/

 

Totally cool engraving of a god in a tree

Image from BME.com

The “thirsting dance” of the Plains people. nativesofcanada.tripod.com/

Vision quest of The Mandan people of North Dakota. freewebs.com/mandans/

The Encyclopedia of Saskatchewan–caption intact. esask.uregina.ca

 

Michael Harkins “Computer Shaman” NYU–I don’t think the image is original, but the content on the page is pretty interesting if you want a basic textbook overview. http://www.nyu.edu/classes/keefer/nature/harkins.htm

 

In the end, each of us has to tread the path laid before our own feet, no?

Waes thu hael,

E

 

 

pbp4

This post is part of a year-long project, The Pagan Blog Project, “a way to spend a full year dedicating time each week very specifically to studying, reflecting, and sharing your spiritual and magickal path. . . . Each week there is a specific prompt for you to work with in writing your post, a prompt that will focus on a letter of the alphabet . . . .” (http://paganblogproject/)


[1] I wanted to show some bodmod, but that got gruesome.

PBP Week 28-29: N—Names: Magical and Mundane

I spent the last six weeks behind. Now, I’m just plain ahead. But this was one that needed to be written anyway, so I’m going to forge forward.

f_47ff5cdfe3ffb

According to my desktop countdown-timer (yes, I am *that* type A) I have 11 days to prepare for a workshop on magical names. You see, a member of the kindred asked that we do this project and I was happy to comply at the time. But the closer the day gets, the more I wonder–what business have I got teaching someone else how to form their magical name?[1] I’ve tried guiding my students to aspiration names and only two of seven have worked it out–and one of those had her name when she showed up. Ehsha is, as you likely know, my craft-name[2] and it was fairly thrust on me; it’s not something I worked on or thought about too much. See my post “A is for Apple” for the whole scoop.

I’m not going to give the technical points of the workshop here, but I will say that I have five plans of attack from which folks can chose to experiment. We will truly workshop.

Allow me a minor aside? Lately I have gotten questions about my teaching methods: pointed questions, asking my students for more information than is appropriate for them to dispense. As I say so often in this online, public forum—my approach is a resoundingly magical “STFU.”[3] So when I don’t provide all of the ins-and-outs of what I teach, there’s a reason. I do not dole out information to the uninitiated. Now, talking about magical names is pretty basic and one doesn’t need access to the deeper Mysteries for that. But I just thought I’d mention it. On account o’it’s sooooo odd to be asked really conspicuous questions. It’s a good thing I have taught my students to answer without answering.

For now, let me just have a little conversation about names of power.

Egyptian Pantheon

Historically, divine names of power, the secret names of deities, were taught only to “masters of the art.” These masters were taught not only the vibrational vocalized name, but the art of wielding that name, the art of evoking and invoking the power attached to that name. Such power was released by the vibrating sound of a secret magical name. We know that vibrational sound is integral to creation; words and names are sound, sound is vibration, vibration is—in turn—wave. Measuring a wave will collapse it—I don’t know why, man; I didn’t do it. It just is. Therefore, speaking a name or word of power outside of the appropriate context can sap the power out of the name—and that’s the best case scenario; the worst case scenario is that the speaker could potentially release energies that s/he cannot wield.

For instance, Crowley’s “favorite,” the Headless Rite—assuming one is referring to the Mathers translation of Lemegeton—contains a number of “barbarous names” from Ancient Egypt, Greek Gnosticism, and Chariot mysticism (aka Merkabah Qabalah).[4] (If you want the older version, look at the Stele of Jeu. For a few good chuckles about Headless/Bornless, see this old post and don’t skip the comments. And if it’s your sort of thing, see this post about the difference between Headless and Stele of Jeu and this one and this one about the 49 Calls–they aren’t particularly “better” than anything out there, just personal, recent, and on my read-list.) I do not recommend that my students perform anything that they do not understand and I do not recommend that they pronounce anything with which they are not familiar. I find it really odd that some folks start right-out trying to brandish popular rites (like Headless) because they are broadly published and available. What they don’t “get” is that available and accessible are not the same thing. Don’t get me wrong, I do not disallow the rite, it’s just that my students get a thorough understanding of it all before I encourage them to start calling forth the Barbarous Names of Evocation. This has a lot to do with the changes made in the names over several translations. This in consideration of the Chaldæan Oracle  which charges: “Change not the Barbarous Names of Evocation, for these are names in every language which are given by God, which have in the Sacred Rites a power ineffable” (Verse 155). A lot of new magicians try the evocation and feel unsuccessful and I can’t help wonder if it isn’t just because they haven’t accessed the true meaning of all those sounds they are vibrating.[5]

And vibrating in terrestrial languages that one doesn’t understand? It’s not like speaking-in-tongues. At all.

But that’s far more than I would discuss in an “open” workshop—meaning there will be plenty of non-initiates in attendance. I might mention it, but that’s like opening Pandora’s panty drawer.

I was really only planning to talk a little about the vibrational qualities of names. I will likely talk more about names as identifiers. Then we’ll get to the real workshop business of workshopping. A magical name is more than just a pseudonym, nickname, or alias that we use to protect our mundane identities. On the most basic level, like Baker, Smith, Taylor, Farmer, Archer, etc., we can be known by the magical work we do. On a higher level, a magical name can be used to shift consciousness.

It can even be a statement of our understandings or aspirations—these names are called “mottos” or “aspiration names”—which we use to remind ourselves of our beliefs, remind ourselves of our better qualities or to build on those qualities. For instance, William Butler Yeats, one of my own favorites,[6] took the magical-motto-name Daemon est Deus Inversus[7] when he entered into the Golden Dawn. These names don’t have to stay the same—as you attain one goal (as marked by attaining a new level of initiation in most cases), you may set a new one and, thereby, adopt a new name to reflect that goal. I ditched “The Bad Witch”—a sort of hypocoristic—and embraced “Ehsha” only. Of course there are “Craft Names” (I was taught to refer to these as eke-names) that don’t reflect a motto so much as serve as a symbol of devotion or, like “Stormborn,” to tell a little about oneself.[8]

Yes, there is a Name Root.

This is likely where I’ll focus.

Of course with the caveat that some of our names might only be shared particular people—or no one at all. Also, it’s totally fine if you don’t want a magical name at all or if you want to use your given name as your magical name.

After the workshop, I was thinking about a little something. If, like we said, sound is vibration, why not take advantage of all that vibratory power and create a range of wavelengths by creating a ritual in which the whole tribe intoned their magical vibrations (names) as a bonding experience. Because our particular focus, this would be a great thing to work in conjunction with an oracular rite. I have seven students who are a level away from completing what most of you would refer to as a first degree (around here it’s different). Wouldn’t that be a lovely element to add to an elevation ritual?

As I work it out, as ever, I’ll let you know.

Wæs þu hæl!

~Ehsha

Addendum: My FB friend pointed out some of the difficulties he has had with name development. Of course, no everyone is “handed” a name in clear and unobscure tones by the divine–thus the rationale for having a local workshop.

There are some things that defy language; I talk about this a lot, so I won’t launch into a Derridian tirade just now.

Sometimes we have an “idea” of what our magical name is supposed to be but there is not a word for it in our language–or any terrestrial language. This is the case for my “secret name.” I recognize it when I am called from the aether, but I don’t know a word for it. I mean, I understand the concept it signifies, but the “word”? Um, no.

It’s best to just approximate rather than stressing over something as human as language. We have shortcomings; the divine can handle all that falls through the cracks.

Addendum, Part 2: Per Blau Stern Schwarz Schlonge’s comment below, I see another hole in my post. Thanks BSSS! Names definitely *should* change as they indicate who and what we are–and we should always be in a state of becoming, not in a stagnant or bull-headed state. I love nothing so much as seeing folks “rebrand” themselves to embrace the new things they have learned and the um, education–we’ll go with “education”–given them by the universe. As for me? I’ve had my share of names from childhood names (which I won’t share as these are family things), to Lámh Mór-ríoghain in my 20s (dark, I know) to Ehsha Apple and The Bad Witch in my 30s (a little tongue in cheek) and the 50 shades of witchy in between. Having put a little dent in my 40s, I think it’s time to reflect my “new growth” with a new name–or at least a new motto. But like so many of you, I’m strugglin’.


[1] The issue is that for about a year now, I’ve been toying with the idea of taking an aspiration name. But I still can’t decide what I want to be when I grow up.

[2] My mundane name is Angela–not that there’s nothing to live up to there, eh?

[3] And every once in a while a smattering of y’n00b followed by a healthy helping of kthx.

My teenagers don’t let me use Tumblr.

[4] Originally, this was used for exorcism, but the Mathers form is typically used to attain Knowledge and Conversation of the Holy Guardian Angel. Either way, it should be preceded by a solid LBRP.

[5] I’m not judging those who do the evocation and don’t get the expected results as “unversed.” I’m just saying it’s one possibility.

[6] Speaking of names, my first Online profile name was YeatsFreak.

[7] Something like “a demon is a god reflected” or “inverted.” Have a look at Blavatsky’s The Secret Doctrine Vol. I, Part XI: “The Mystery of the Seven Thunders.” 

[8] Some of the more famous of these are Alex Sanders, Verbius; Jenine Trayer, Silver RavenWolf ; Miriam Simos, Starhawk.

pbp4This post is part of a year-long project, The Pagan Blog Project, “a way to spend a full year dedicating time each week very specifically to studying, reflecting, and sharing your spiritual and magickal path. . . . Each week there is a specific prompt for you to work with in writing your post, a prompt that will focus on a letter of the alphabet . . . .” (http://paganblogproject/)

PBP Weeks 24-25: L—Luck

I ran across this. Richard @connexions, The blog of Richard Hall, a Methodist Minister in Wales asks about the “Etymology of ‘luck’?” He asks:

Anyone out there got an OED? Last night on GodTV, Kenneth Copeland said that the origin of the word “luck” could be traced to “Lucifer”. I’m as sure as I can be that he was talking out of his hat, but if someone could give me chapter and verse (as it were), I’d be grateful.

Why am I bothered?

This wouldn’t be the first time I’ve come across high profile preachers just making stuff up, and their congregation [strikethrough] audience just lapped it up. It irritates me no end.

There is a really interesting conversation in the comments section. Most of it is very well thought-out. Like “Tony Bluegrass” who, early on, points out that “[luck is] from a teutonic [sic] root. Lucifer is from the Latin for light, in turn from the Greek leukos “white”. So unless he can show that glucklich, gelucke, etc are derived from light and white, no chance.”

Some of it is just plain ridiculous. “Maybe” posts:

I had heard that the connection between Lucifer and ‘Luck’ was Scandanavian [sic] in origin (a derivitive [sic] of german [sic]) that was a derivation of Loki. So, an old Norseman may say “Good Loki”, meaning may that Trickster Loki be good to you instead of bad, since you never knew what he was going to do. Loki then, from a Christian perspective, is then the Norse representation of Lucifer, just as “The Great Spirit in the Sky” worshipped [sic] by Indians [WTF!? sic!!] is God.

Then there’s stuff in between. I mean, it’s an attempt at being thoughtful enough but so full of illogical shite that I don’t know what to do with it. “Bishop Jackson” writes:

As usual, people miss the deeper spiritual point. Whether the etymology of luck can be directly traced to Lucifer or not, the concept of “luck” presupposes a random universe rather than one in which God moves in the affairs of those who seek His help. If I have God, I do not need luck. If I need luck, I do not respect God’s power to help me. From a biblical [sic] and Christian perspective, luck is directly tied to Lucifer as a way of relating to the world without God. I never use the word. To me, while it is used with the best of intentions, it is a form of blasphemy, particularly when used by the believer in Jesus Christ, whose hope and trust should be solely in Him. I know it is is done mostly out of habit and without mal-intent, but Christians really ought to know better.

“Doxology Data,” “Jon,” and “Symphathy” [sic, for Christ’s sake; don’t y’all have SpellCheck?] agree, saying (respectively):

Bishop Jackson – well said! I do not use the word, either – for the same reason. There is BLESSING and CURSING, not luck. Death and Life. The law of sin and death or the law of the Spirit in Christ Jesus. Christians should NOT use the word “luck”!

and

SHOUTOUT to Bishop Allen, sticking to his guns amidst a sea of evidence to the contrary. That has to be considered as some sort of dedication.

and

The basis of the statement is from the [W]ord. God called that we walk in blessing. No where in the bible [sic] do we speak of living by luck. If we recognize that nothing happens by chance, we will understand the origin of the word luck.
Refer to: – Deutronomy [sic] 28:1 – If you fully obey the Lord your God and carefully follow all his commands I give you today, the Lord your God will set you high above all the nations on earth. 2 All these blessings will come on you and accompany you if you obey the Lord your God. . . .

The closest any of the comments came to answering the question from a real etymological perspective are “Beth” and finally “Cindy” who posted from the Online Etymological Dictionary, not exactly an authoritative text. Folks like “DmL” give it a whirl, but don’t really know what they are reading aside from the origins–even at that.

I happen to be a “dirty Heathen” who uses the word “luck” in a religious framework and am in dialogue about Loki on a regular basis. I also own an OED.

This is the most updated digital version.

This is the most updated digital version.

And yet, I couldn’t bring myself to post my comment on a Christy blog post, believing it would start a firestorm of unrelated anti-Pagan commentary and undesirable off-topic “prayers” for my “soul,”  so I will just speak my piece here. Call me a wimp, but I’d rather play on home-turf this round.

Let’s start with the etymology since that’s what “Richard” was asking for the whole time. We can’t really use the modern word, “luck,” since it doesn’t appear until post-Christianity (15th c.).

Basically, the contradictory commentary above takes a long time to say that, “The ultimate etymology of Middle High German gelücke . . .is obscure. . . . nothing could be more plausible than Paul’s view. . . that the word is connected with [success] . . . But morphologically this assumption seems quite inadmissible. . . .” In other words, “We want to think it always meant success, but we can’t prove a connection based in scholarship.” In other other words, there’s no real connection between “luck” as we use it today and “luck” as it meant before the Middle Ages.

The next part is more helpful: “Formally, the word might be cognate with louk v.1 or louk v.2, or with German locken to entice. . . but no probable hypothesis seems to have been formed to connect the meaning of the noun with that of any of these verbs.” 

So the verb is one thing, the noun another? Maybe.

You see, locken–a verb for “entice” is related to the word “lokkur.” Lokkur in turn is  part of the word “vordlokkur,” which means “guard lure” and is used to describe the practice of calling guardian spirits through song. (See this post and this post for more info.) Further, louk–a verb for bind or lock–also means “to pull up” or unroot. Nothing to do with success.

In order to figure out what “used to mean luck” we need to reverse-engineer the term.

Something that happened by chance, something that had to do with success was “spéd” or “speed” as in “godspeed” or god spēdan (“may God cause you to succeed”). Wonder if Kenneth Copeland minds that term?

Speed

Another term is “wígbléd” which translates as “battle branch” or “battle blossom.” (Nothing to do with bleeding–that’s “blédan.”) Because OE is a language full of imagery, I’m going with the more figurative interpretation of the kenning: “the fruits of war.” How I would lurve to see conservative Christians claiming that the fruits of war or the branches of strife are related to Satan.

They aren’t related–but neither is “luck” related to “Lucifer,” so . . .

You see, to imagine that a Teutonic word would end up in a Hebrew lexicon at all is pretty far-fetched. Maybe’s comment about Loki made me laugh so hard I nearly peed myself. How, pray tell, can a pre-Christian culture predict the attributes that were to be given to “the adversary”? To Christians, I say, “Y’all are the one’s who made Loki into Lucifer (and who made Lucifer into Satan, BTW)–don’t blame us for your silliness.”

Let me go off on a side rant for a second, OK? 

In Arabic, the Shayṭān, like other djinn, are created out of “smokeless fire or from the pure flame of fire.” But that’s not exactly the same as Satan. The name Satan comes from the Hebrew term ha-satan , meaning simply “the adversary.” In the Torah and Talmud this term is used to describe the unnamed enemies of the Israelites (see Zechariah). And in Job, “Satan” is used as a term to refer to idea of Satan as the “prosecuting attorney.” Note that the Satan figure of Job is completely obedient to God. He is in no way evil, he just has a job that some might find distasteful. Like The Bad Witch. Satan is a figure from Jewish aggadh–or lore–didactic texts geared toward teaching rather than law-giving. Never is the devil referred to as the evil one. And the concept is never connected to the figure of Lucifer–this is a medieval inference. Lucifer is translated from heylel, meaning “light bearer.” (The Latin is  “the morning star,” which is the planet Venus. The Greek, heōsphoros, is also “bringer of dawn.”) But that’s also a term used for Christ. Clearly, neither Satan or Lucifer were ever intended to be proper nouns.

Loki on the other hand. Totally an individual.

I can see where Satan and Loki could be connected (but not Lucifer–the light-bringer is Baldr). Loki is a trickster character and adversary to the gods. He mucks things up and forces the gods to problem-solve. Loki is a figure for human progress and the impetus for change (antithetical to the desires of the “Golden Age Aesir” who wanted nothing more than to eat Adunna’s apples and play bounce-the-Mjolnir-off-Baldr–kinda like Adam and Eve in Eden). In no other culture/religion is the “trickster” considered “evil.” Only Islam and Christianity. The Ha-Satan, the adversary, the challenger, the prosecutor, gets turned into “The Devil” (Old English dēofol from Latin diabolus, “slanderer” or “accuser”). Because it is only after Christianity that we get a portrayal of Loki–the troublemaker, the adversary, the gad-fly–no wonder he get’s a bad name. Maybe I’m just protective of my “goad” gods.

Back to luck.

The concept of “luck” as a Teutonic idea relates to the Northern European pre-Christian Pagan collective spiritual health of a tribe, clan, or kindred. Seems to me, some Christians on Richard’s blog thread are a little out of luck.

Ironically, the luck of the tribe was intimately connected to their relationship with the divine. It was only after the Romanization of tribal areas (and their languages) that luck became ascribed to connoting randomness. Previously luck had been counted as divine reciprocity for intentionally thewful (lawful, respectable, etc) behavior. Kinda like getting your god’s blessings for obeying your own commandments. (Here is Swain Wodening’s description of the interplay of “Wyrd, Luck, and Frith”–and here is Defunct Paradigm’s discussion of the relationship between “Wyrd, Orlæg, Worth, Honor, and Luck“–to both of these conversations, I would add Gefrain.) Of course it went the other way too–“luck” is also affected by *not* behaving righteously. Today we call that “bad luck.” Then, it was just *your* luck–that luck which you accumulated by your actions in the face of divine judgment.

So the claim that “the concept of ‘luck’ presupposes a random universe rather than one in which God moves in the affairs of [humans]” and that the concept of luck connotes disrespect for divine power and that believing in “luck”  is “a way of relating to the world without God” is fundamentally flawed based purely on a misunderstanding of the word “luck.”

Of course Christianity vilified all that was not theirs, so no surprise. (And I’m not even blaming modern Christians, rather this is an Early Medieval phenomenon which was passed down through half a millennium.) It makes sense that “luck,” a heathen concept for the blessings of (our) divine would become translated as anti-theistic nose-thumbing by those who want to impugn heathen ethics.

“Good Loki,” said no Norseman ever. “Godspeed,” on the otherhand? Turns out even modern “luck” is still attributed to the divine.

Waes tu hael, good luck, godspeed, blessed be.

~E

pbp4

 

This post is part of a year-long project, The Pagan Blog Project, “a way to spend a full year dedicating time each week very specifically to studying, reflecting, and sharing your spiritual and magickal path. . . . Each week there is a specific prompt for you to work with in writing your post, a prompt that will focus on a letter of the alphabet . . . .” (http://paganblogproject/)

PBP Weeks 22-23: K—Kundalini

Shiva-Shakti (2)Yeah, folks. I’m just gonna cheat.

Very few Heathen-based words begin with a K. In Anglo-Saxon, they tend to be C-words.  I mean, start with C.

So, here is a post with lots of pretty pictures and some funfacts about Kundalini and Tantra. (This is not myChakra Shell Snake tradition and I’ve never been an expert in Eastern traditions, so I do not vouch for the content on the blog as a whole.) It’s not the most academic thing I’ve ever seen, but it’s purdy. And after all I’ve posted today? I’d say that’s a score.

Forgive me for pilfering. Now I’m off to pick up my kids from theater camp (they both have solos–well done, offspring), clean house, and prep for tonight’s magic class on facts and fictions about the left-hand-path. Can I hear somebody say, “Necronomicon”?

Cheers,

~E

PBP Weeks 21: J –Jarls and Judicial Assemblies

It’s a Thing.

No, really. We call our assemblies a “Thing.”

In Germanic and Celtic societies all of the “free folk” (this is why Anglo Saxons also call assemblies “folkmoot”) would gather to have their grievances heard by a legislative mediator called a “lawspeaker.” This process eventually morphed into modern Parliament, and in some ways, our own Supreme Court.[1] Back in the day, when tribes, or theod, were *required* to avenge injuries done to their kindred, in order to keep the peace between tribes,[2] the equalizing convention was the Thing. Folks would come before the assembly, made up of all the free members of a community, speak their piece, hear the judgment, and then be bound to follow through with it. Then? Then let it go. The customary law of the community, or thews, were binding to both sides—plaintiff and respondent. Once balance was achieved between warring tribes, it was best to let sleeping dogs lie. Don’t pick the scab, etc.

The kinds of things that are paid are weregild and shild.

Weregild is payment for death or injury. Like today, if you commit a crime that is not necessarily punishable with incarceration, you may still incur civil damages. For instance, should you ruin (or try to ruin) someone’s reputation in a malicious and dishonest way, there are legal ramifications. In today’s coursts, we all know that slander and libel are punishable with punitive fines determined by the measure of the injury. Likewise, weregild was paid depending on the “value” of what was taken (life, limb, ability to work, even reputation). Therefore, if you murdered the head of a household (or otherwise caused them to lose their means of income), you had to make reparations so that the family feel no financial loss. If you murdered or injured a community leader, chieften or priest, the weregild was higher since more folk would be “shortchanged” by the loss you created. Unlike today where courts establish fines and “damages” after the fact, the folk typically knew where a man’s (or woman’s) weregild was valued. In some cultures a women’s weregild (weragild?) was far more than a man’s; in other cultures it was the other way around.

Please, oh, please read this bit I wrote about Moby Dick and weregild while on an incredible intellectual high. For today is summer and I now has the dumb.

Shild, on the other hand, is a payment for unthewfulness; it is a payment for failing to uphold an oath. Not unlike breach of contract conditions written into treaties, shild is something typically set at the time of the oathmaking.

A Jarl, or Oearl as we say,[3] is the chosen chieften of a tribe to whom the folk bind themselves, often with an oath swearing ceremony. Oaths sworn on rings (really arm-torques and neck-torques, not normally finger rings) are performed at “thanings” (to be a thegn or thane was not to be a slave or servant,[4] but rather a loyal companion) where each oathmaker swears their troth (OE treowð) to the kindred—this means that they swear their “truth,” swear to keep faithfulness to the community. It’s a binding pledge of loyalty, and is a reciprocal relationship. The folk are loyal to the leaders of the community and the leaders are loyal to (and protect) the folk.

Dísrtroth is not a recon tradition, so you may ask why the heck all of this matters so much in a religiouscontext. The truth of it is that even though we do not reconstruct the religious aspects of old Northern traditions, in our social dealings we try to reclaim the ethic of a pre-Christian-patriarchal-Romanized order.

One that:

  • Maintains thewd based in equity
  • Venerates the female in every incarnation[5]
  • Values the credibility of the word
  • Strives for self-sufficiency
  • Insists on personal responsibility[6]

I mention all of this because Nine Worlds American Kindred is planning a folkmoot for The Feast of the Einherjar (held November 9). I, for one, am terrified at the prospect of having things ready in time. We’ve opted to call it a “Witches’ Moot” because it is open to all members of our extended witch, pagan, and heathen community rather than our typical tribe-only event. We are planning games, classes/discussion circles, a mead making workshop, a seidhjallr rite, a sundown drum circle, a warrior commemoration rite (to honor and protect our military), a sumbl, an animal blessing, and potluck feast. Whether or not there will be any lawspeaking remains to be seen.[7] I’ll be posting more information on our website at http://www.disrtroth.org soon; I just have to get past final grades and Midsummer first!

As ever, I’ll keep you posted.

Wæs þu hæl!

~E


[1] There are hierarchies of things—just like there are local, state, Federal, and Supreme courts in the U.S.

[2] This might seem ironic to those of a “love-and-light” only ideology. But while payback may be a bitch, it keeps the chit-sheets square thereby preventing a “pileup” of malicious return. Tit-for-tat. Gebo. Weregild. It’s not like folks were running around wreaking carnage all over Northern Europe; the Northfolk were very practical and stringent legal foundations kept the culture in line.

[3] Actually, we don’t say, as we have no oearls in our kindred.

[4] Thegndom is not the same as thralldom.

[5] Don’t get me wrong—we aren’t anti-male or the Heathen equivalent to Dianic, not even close

[6] That’s what we call being a “good heathen.” A good heathen knows the law of the land and abides by them. (Even the law allows the demand of a payment for damages.) And once the score is settled, a good heathen lets it go.

A “bad heathen”? A bad heathen ignores the law and manipulates others into unhealthy inter/co/dependence. A bad heathen is someone who wallows in unfairness; imagine the female body and spirit as an object of degradation, shame, or even one to be used to exploit others; fibs outright or otherwise manipulates statements to treachery; bleeds the resources of others and relies on others for sustenance (material and emotional); and blames others for their own bad luck, wyrd, and various negative circumstances.

Thank the gods I don’t associate with any of those.

[7] I mean, I’m happy to provide a space to have any and all quarrels mediated by a disinterested third party–even if I have to hire one, but perhaps that’s best done outside of the celebratory circle and the results of said mediation reinforced at the moot–I mean, we only want the event to last *one* day. HA!

PBP Weeks 20: J – Jotunar: Skadi

HBO’s rendition of GRRM’s frost giants who live “beyond the wall” with the Wildings or Free Folk of the North, descended from The First Men—sounds about right

Mytho-historically, a jotun is a giant member of the primordial inhabitants of Jotunheim the “outer” realm of Middangeard, our homeland, also called Manna-Heim or “Home of Man.” Middangeard itself was created from the body of the giant Aurgelmir (Ymir). Sometimes called “frost giants,” a cognate of Jontun is Ettin (OE Eoten). In PIE, this is also from where “eat” derives.

Curious.

Fei-fie-foe-fum.

In myth, the jotunar are often imagined as antithetical to the ēse, the Æsir and Vanir of the Norse.

But sometimes the relationships were more amicable. For instance, Skadi (aka Skade), bowhuntress, skiier, winter-goddess, and mountain-goddess.

She is the daughter of Thjazi, who shapeshifted into a giant bird and separated Idunna from her golden apple tree. (I think that’s my favorite story. Mmmmm, chaos and apples.)

For his crimes, Thjazi was executed and his wereguild paid—in part—by a union between Skadi and Njörðr, Vanic father of twins Freyr and Freyja. That didn’t end well. Later, in Heimskringla, we learn that Odin was a much better match for the giantess.

Idunna distributing the apples of immortality to the Aesir

Likewise, Loki, the one who put Thjazi up to abducting Idunna, comes from Jotunheim. Ah, Loki—he gets such a bad rap. As our trickster, it is his pranks that cause critical thinking, problem solving, progress.  Without someone to goad us from time to time, we stagnate. (See also this 1992 article,  “Utgard: The role of the Jotnar in the Religion of the North,” by Diana Paxson @hrafnar.)

Love this–by Nick Robles: http://narobles.blogspot.com/

After all, Mimir’s well of wisdom is in Jotunheim; if it were easier to access, everyone would have such wisdom.

The Poetic Edda: Grímnismál

Skadi is one of the protectresses of our hof and hearth. In our tradition, we honor life as well as death, creation as well as destruction, love-and-light as well as what-lies-beyond. We don’t consider this “black magic” or dark anything. I mean, the Initiator created the night as well as the day—and tomorrow we will get an equal helping of both.

This is sacred.

Like the mountains separating Middangeard from Utgard, Skadi, mountain-goddess, helps up maintain the borders between the ordered and the chaotic.

Until Later, Waes tu hael,

~E

pbp4

This post is part of a year-long project, The Pagan Blog Project, “a way to spend a full year dedicating time each week very specifically to studying, reflecting, and sharing your spiritual and magickal path. . . . Each week there is a specific prompt for you to work with in writing your post, a prompt that will focus on a letter of the alphabet . . . .” (http://paganblogproject/)

PBP Weeks 18-19: I – Idesa

Gaulish Relief of Triple Goddess

Gaulish Relief of Triple Goddess

Idesa” is the Anglo-Saxon term for the Norse dísir, or ancestral/tribal mothers. And the tribe to which I belong hails itself as “Dísrtroth,” faithful to the female ancestors. If you’ve read much of my blog, you know where I stand on issues regarding the divine female and how it’s been hijacked by Abrahamic patristic order and Enlightenment fecktasticness. I have tried to discuss female divinity with a few Pagans (although most “get it”) who just can’t get past the idea that I don’t mean “goddess worship” a la Gardner or even Budapest.

Worship of the idesa is about as “new-age” as wode.

Two things strike me as funny.

1.         As a heathen, we have the term “Forn Siðr[1]—in Anglo-Saxon Fyrnsidu—which refers to our ways as “the old custom.” However, I find that many (not all) “forn” customs tend to be very masculine-centered customs. All of my studies have shown that true forn siðr were matristic[2] and egalitarian.

2.         I have trouble—real trouble—with the terms “the old ways” and “the old religion” given that folks often use these phrases to refer to imagined reconstructions of pre-Christian religions using post-Christian texts. For this reason, we typically call what we do in our tribe “inn nýi siðr,” the new custom. The real irony is that what I end up calling “nýi” is more forn than what others refer to as “forn.” (Translation: our idea of “new” is the really old version of “old” rather than the new version of “old.”)

Worshiping the idesa was common all the way through to the Roman period. Know how we know? We have evidence that heathen mercenaries built um, Matronae-harrow (altars to Dea Matrona (Celtic and Gaulish “divine mother goddess”)) along Hadrian’s Wall.[3] Must’a been important to them; I can’t imagine that builders would stop construction for that monolith to do something trivial.

HadriansWall xtrawide

There are two celebrations for the idesea. There is Mōdraniht (“Mothers’ Night”) celebrated at Yule-eve, which according Bede’s Historia was a clear celebration of the Matronae (triple goddess), and the dísablót celebration of the female ancestors, which traditionally took place at Winternights (October 31).[4]

Want an inside look at Mother’s Night? Here’s Sarah Lyn’s post from Walking With the Ancestors.

Here at our wēoh (sacred enclosure), we have a special place for the idesa, or dísr. Or, you know, we have one planned. Right now we have an area that we dedicated to the primordial forces, The Rökkr,[5] on Walpurgisnacht. But we hold regular dísablót and we are hosting one at a local festival at the end of the month.

Hey, I’m having a thought.

Given that there will be so many “kinds” of Pagans at this festival, I’m kinda getting the inking that it should be a blót to Dea Matrona, a “Mōdrablót.” You know, that might be more specific than dísr and yet more accessible. A blót to the specific deified being “triple goddess.” That’s a little pan-Pagan friendly at that, i’n’t it? Those who see her as the Fates, the Norns, the Erinnyes, and those who call her Hecate or Mór-ríoghain can all identify with the rite—and yet we don’t lose the substance of the blót by negotiating away any meaning.

Yeah. I think I’m digging it.

As ever, I’ll let you know.

~Ehsha


[1] I’m not making comment about the Danish Forn Siðr tradition, mind you. Just the term.

[2] Not to be confused with “matriarchal.”

[3] Wanna know more? Go read Winifred Hodge Rose’s “Matrons and Disir: The Heathen Tribal Mothers” (http://www.friggasweb.org/matrons.html).

[4] According to Víga-Glúms Saga; the Heimskringla places it closer to spring.

[5] Don’t get freaked out. The Rökkr are “shadow” deities not Christianized demons—they can be chthonic and tricksters, to be sure, but not “devils.” We don’t really have those.

pbp4

This post is part of a year-long project, The Pagan Blog Project, “a way to spend a full year dedicating time each week very specifically to studying, reflecting, and sharing your spiritual and magickal path. . . . Each week there is a specific prompt for you to work with in writing your post, a prompt that will focus on a letter of the alphabet . . . .” (http://paganblogproject/)

 

PBP Weeks 11-12: F – Frith & 13-14: G – Grith

It’s cheating, I’m just sure of it. Putting both Frith and Grith into one post? I will do my best to make it up to you, but I will make no promises. Life has taken me on a wonderful rollercoaster that leaves little time, energy, and atmosphere for blogging. That can’t be a bad thing.

As a Heathen community, we spend a good deal of time talking about “frith,” the peace within a tribe, clan, kindred, or community. We also spend a good deal of energy nurturing it. Let’s face it, we don’t all always get along; that which goes for consanguineous family goes for chosen family as well. On occasion we will rub each other the wrong way. Given enough time together, we may rub each other raw. And not in a good way.

So, yeah. We spend a good deal of energy maintaining frith.[1] Sometimes, there needs to be a Thing to straighten out the thing. This is best done in transparent circumstances. While a grand assembly may not be necessary to iron out minor tiffs, there should never be a circumstance where one person does all the talking and separates, or “splits,” everyone off in order to play people against each other (often engaging in character assassination and social engineering). That’s never a good thing. It is best to weave frith and luck into the folk gefrain with weal (well-being) and thau (virtue), even when differences arise. But that doesn’t mean there won’t be arguments. And that doesn’t mean that arguments are “bad.” Just that they should be had-out under virtuous law.

For instance, I am in a situation where somebody has to lose-out. Has to. There’s just not enough to go around. For various reasons I can’t give you too many details—but let’s just say that it is inevitable that a sizable number of someones will have to get, um “shortchanged,” we’ll go with shortchanged. Right now those in charge are making opaque decisions based on what looks like nepotism rather than merit, seniority, or any of the usual measures. Regardless of what decisions are made, it is the opacity that is causing the problem. As for me, even if I end up being one of the shanked, I don’t mind–as long as I understand the rules of shanking and as long as shanking is done with an even hand: across-the-board. (I’ve even made suggestions for “the rules of shanking” that would leave me a shank-ee, however, the rules would be transparent. My attitude in true shieldmaiden form is that I’ll play any game as long as I know the rules of engagement.[2]) In this situation, the rules are hidden. It is this “hiddenness” that is causing a very turbulent rift in the community at hand.

Unlike my secular example, under sacral frithstead, there are agreed-upon rules to disagreements; thereby “winner” and “loser” will end the contest graciously no matter how it turns out. This way, when the “fight” is over, everyone can shake hands and go back to being kin. (Check this out for more discussion.)  This is good.

Yes, it’s good to fight when necessary. However, without rules of engagement, the fight could end up harming the community and causing a schismatic disruption. The goal of frith is to maintain the interests of the folk; community trumps all.

“Sanctuary!” (Sorry, couldn’t help it. My Victor Hugo is showing.)

While frith applies to the peace within a group, grith applies to the peace between groups. But it also applies to “safe haven.” By this I mean the special protection that is afforded by “sanctuary.” This was a thought that kept repeating itself to me as I celebrated Spring with a nearby coven. A small number of my kindred and I visited a (most compatible! [3]) Wiccan coven this weekend; this group challenges enterers at the gate of the circle de rigueur.[4] Once inside, once declared a guest and therefore protected by the rules of hospitality, I knew I was safe.[5] I’ve told you before that there were folks with whom I did not feel safe enough to join energy. In the true spirit of grith, I knew there was a difference in this group.

Ammendment: While I thought the group was BTW (based on my own misunderstanding of an offhand comment), they are actually Traditional Initiate Witchcraft (Celtic Witchcraft) not Wiccan. My apologies.

And that was pretty cool. Pretty damned cool. (If any of you read this–know we all had a BLAST.)

Especially given the nature of grith. Grith is one of those things that is not really owed to anyone. It is given, like a gift. Within the rules of gebo, this means that grith must be returned with grith.

While frith is necessary to keep a community together, grith is a bit of a bonus. In times of conflict, it is a luxury to be friendly with outsiders. For this reason, grith must be arranged—usually between group leaders—and must be maintained.[6] Fortunately for us, we don’t live in times of boundary wars and turf-fighting. (Well, most of us live in those times.) So, in all honesty, it just makes more sense to get along, to join (weal) wyrd, to gain strength in numbers, and to expand our horizons—especially among those who have compatible ethics and upright gefrain (see my post about Goodwill and Gefrain).

Side note: Sadly, there are those who prefer to live unthewfully, those who would rather fight all comers: “shoot them all and let the gods sort them out.”[7] Typically, those with proper thews end up with the golden apples. Those with schmucky-wyrd based in unthewful lifestyles end up with unexpected debts, criminal records, lost jobs, parking tickets, broken windows, addictions, and eviction notices.[8] And yeah, bad things happen to good people–but bad things also happen to careless people.

As a matter of fact, according to Swain Wodening, this works on a banal level as well as a divine level: “the tolerance for a breach of frith is much higher than for that of a breach of grith.” This is because we can slight those of our kin and get back together on the basis of maintaining kinship. With “others” there is no such necessity. Therefore, a breach of grith can often mean war. This is why grith is such an important concept. If we resort to infighting, we waste the time and energy we could spend in beautiful camaraderie (like we did this weekend). It is in the mutual best interest of all tribes, clans, covens, groves, and solitaries to hold grith with one other.

 It is far too late for this Heathen to be up and online, so I’m off to dream some UPGish adventure.

Until next time–wæs Þu hæl!

Ehsha


[1] I happen to be very lucky as I have a kindred who get along very well. For the most part.

[2] I don’t need drinking buddies for such favors; my gods have repeatedly proven to have my back. This only comes as a result of  honoring them.

[3] Cin, you will be happy to know that I finally found the good kind–like you. ❤ Guess what? The HP is a Canuck–like you. (I’m told that term is endearing; please gods let that be true, please gods let that be true, please, please, please. xxoo)

[4] Since we have a different practice of entry, I hadn’t done this in over a decade–it was pretty damn cool; and the Bard was kick-ass. I really thought she’d slit my neck if I wasn’t deemed upright.

[5] I was also vouchsafed. I didn’t even know that I had been vouched for (thanks Holli)–because I didn’t have to ask. It was offered freely. These are the benefits of grith and healthy gefrain. When your reputation among the folk is above board, it doesn’t seem to matter what one or two chatterboxes have to say. Like the truth, community will out–you will find out who your true community is. The gods see to that!

[6] I mean this informally. In simple friendship, grith exists even when no formal arrangement is made.

[7] Thing is, the gods *will* sort them out. Ever see what happens to a dude whose wife of nearly a half-decade finds out he was sleeping with his ex(s) up until a few weeks before the wedding? The gods will sort shite like that out. And the nature of the sorting has to do with both *his* thews AND *her* thews in the intervening time.

[8] It’s not about being self-righteous— I mean, I have a bit of muck left on my own wyrd—it’s a matter of self-responsibility. Common sense. I mean, if you lay down with dogs, expect fleas. If your dogs have fleas, expect worms. If your dogs have worms, expect vet bills up the wazoo.

That is just allegory to say that if you take care of your responsibilities, you’ll be in a better shape when the unexpected occurs. Let disorder rule as customary routine, and every day will be “the unexpected.” It’s common sense. But then again, pragmatism is a cornerstone of Heathenry.

This post is part of a year-long project, The Pagan Blog Project, “a way to spend a full year dedicating time each week very specifically to studying, reflecting, and sharing your spiritual and magickal path. . . . Each week there is a specific prompt for you to work with in writing your post, a prompt that will focus on a letter of the alphabet . . . .” (http://paganblogproject/)

pbp4

PBP Weeks 9-10: E – Evenhead: A Heathen Thew

Ah, my first post on thews–thought I’d start with one that coincides with the Pagan Blog Project E, even though I’m writing about “Odin’s Easter” later this week.

Thews, Heathen disciplines or virtues—are not all about . . . . well, physicality.

I know some folks like it, but this level of manipulation kinda puts the “ew” in “thew” for me.

Evenhead is the Heathen virtue which states that all are equal under the law—coæquales. Is a strange word to me. Because I tend to think of “temperance” when I hear “evenhead”—it must be our colloquial use of the term “even-headed”—I prefer the term “evenhood.”

Originally, “hood” (or hôd ) had a distinct meaning. It referred to one’s condition, value, or rank.[1] Like childhood, maidenhood, parenthood, priesthood, or falsehood, “hood” speaks to a person’s state of being. In this case, even-hood. We value equality, impartiality, fairness, and equity.

I mention this because recently I’ve heard a number of conversations about Heathenry and bigotry. Both racial bigotry and male chauvinism.

You see, in *true* Heathenry[2], men and women are equal under the law and have equal value within the broader culture. Women and men in Anglo-Saxon culture were fully equal in most regards. Both could divorce, own land, inherit land, make decisions for the tribe, rule tribes, and even lead in battle. In Leadership and Gender, I talked about how women tended to be sacral leaders while men were war-leaders; but keep in mind that the roles of women were venerated as much as the roles men filled. (I, for one, do not mind gender roles—it’s the denigration of one gender’s roles in favor of the other’s roles that gets under my skin.) Today, we might say, “Well, duh!” but there has been such a systematic belittlement of female roles that some Heathens believe we need to reclaim evenhood as a thew. I’m on board.

But I’d like to take it even farther. There are Heathens out there who like to proclaim unevenhood in regard to ancestry. They say, “Only *these folk* can be Heathen,” or, “Only *those folk* are genuine—authentic.” If maintaining evenhood reveals our appreciation for equality, impartiality, fairness, and equity, are we really going to start carrying around DNA test-kits to determine who is “pure” enough to be a Heathen? Really?

If so, I’d like to suggest that everyone who claims “pure” ancestry be the first to take a DNA test. Let me be there to see your face when the results arrive?

In my claim to Heathenry, I imagine an American tradition based in Heathen ethics which refuses discrimination based in gender, ancestry, sexual identification, or class.

Think about it, the Angles settled in Britain and interacted with the Celtic people of Ireland, Scotland, Wales, the Isle of Man, and Cornwall. Later, they were joined by the Saxons, from Lower Saxony and the Jutes from modern Denmark. Given the patterns of human migration in the first through eighth centuries —especially including the discovery of and settlements in Vinland (a.k.a. ‘Merica), I find it unproductive to try to distill ancestry to one set of peoples.

Because many Americans hail from Western European families that have been in Vinland/America since the Colonial Period, and because so many of those ancestors intermarried with Indiginous people, diasporic Africans[3], Eastern-Europeans, Middle-Easterners, and Asians, I refuse to exclude anyone based in ancestry. I mean, shoot—I’ve got a large quantity of that ever-hailed Norse blood coursing through my veins (and the DNA results to prove it)—but does that mean I should disregard my mother’s grandmother? My father’s Cherokee ancestors? Pish.

I mean, I’m glad to know my connection to my abundant Scandinavian ancestors like Alva, Gunnhild, and Gustav, but I have wrapped my arms around MacDougalls, Hornbuckles, and Atchleys—muts, every last one of them. Am I supposed to be less proud of being descended from George Seoul and other Mayflower-ers or Jacob Geynheimer (15th Century patriarch to one of America’s largest families—I like to think of him as The Abraham of Oppau) than someone for whom I have no history—only a name and “appropriate” DNA? What am I? A racehorse? Besides, from a scientific standpoint, there is no such thing as “race.” It’s something as culturally invented as gender-roles.

Oh, how I want to reclaim all of the cool symbols my ancestors left me.

But, to be fair, just like I can condone gender roles based in evenhood, I can get behind kindred relationships based in evenhood. I can get behind kindred preference so long as it doesn’t resort to excluding someone from a religious group because they may not be descended from the othal.

I like narrative. I’m a writer and an English teacher. So, yeah; I like narrative. Stories make the world go ‘round. I like knowing the stories behind my ancestors a whole lot more than knowing their  alphoid subsets. And once we sit down, shut-up, and listen to the common narrative of all humanity, we will all be able to practice evenhead with ease because we will see that we are all Æðeling.[4]

 

Wæs Þu hæl!

~Ehsha


[1] The Anglo-Saxons in particular used a related term, “had,” to imply “sex” (biological state, not intercourse). This seems to reinforce the connotations of gender-equality.

[2] Go on, get mad.

[3] Awe, let’s call it what it was: slavery.

[4] S’ok if you disagree. I’m just proclaiming my position not telling you to adopt it, K?

PBP – Week 7-8: D – Denizens of Yggdrasil

 An eagle sitteth on Yggdrasil’s limbs,
whose keen eyes widely ken;
‘twixt his eyes a fallow falcon is perched,
called Vedhrfolnir, and watcheth.

Ratatosk the squirrel is called which runneth ay
about the ash Yggdrasil:
the warning words of the watchful eagle
he bears to Nidhogg beneath.

Four harts also the highest shoots,
ay gnaw from beneath:
Dain and Dvalin, Duneyr and Dyrathror.

More wyrms do lie the world-tree beneath
than unwise apes may ween:
Goin and Moin, which are Grafvitnir’s sons,
Grabak and Grafvolluth;
Ofnir and Svafnir ay, I fear me,
on that tree’s twigs will batten.

The ash Yggdrasil doth ill abide,
more than to men to is known:
the hart browsing above, its bole rotting,
and Nidhogg gnawing beneath.

Grimnismál 

When journeying around Yggdrasil, it’s good to know that there are some “standard” residents. Of course, there are inhabitants who are “off the map,” but knowing the traditional animal energies and guiding influences of a place helps us know where to go for what we need.

Hraesvelg (“Corpse-Eater”) sits on the tip-top of the tree.[1] An eagle, actually a giant who has taken the form of an eagle, who causes chaotic winds to blow when he beats his wings. He doesn’t have much to say to journeyers—I mean, he’s pretty unreachable—but he sends insults to the bottom of the tree via Ratatosk.

At the very bottom of the tree, controlled only by Hel herself is the great wyrm Níðhöggr (“Striker”). Crawling around between Helheim and Niflheim, she gnaws on one of Yggdrasil’s three roots in the spring, Hvergelmir. Níðhöggr lives on Nastrond, the Shore of Corpses, where she eats corpses to sustain herself. Niflheim is the realm of icy fog and mist. Saturated with darkness and cold, it is the lowest level of Helheim, the realm of death.

Níðhöggr is not the only serpent who gnaws away at Yggdrasil.  There are also serpents called Graback, Grafvolluth, Goin, and Moin.

And there is also the Midgard Serpent, Jörmungandr. Tossed into the sea to fend for itself, this serpent can surround the earth and grasp his own tail. When he lets go? It’s all over.

Ratatoskr (“Traveling Tusk”), the “gossipy” squirrel runs up and down the tree carrying insults between Hraesvelg and Nidhogg. Many travelers say that he doesn’t generally talk to visitors but I find him to be really chatty. But in a fragmented, distorted sort of way. I compare the information one might overhear from Ratatosk’s chatter to the visions Raven Simone had in That’s So Raven. True, but misleading.

Duneyrr (“Rest”), Duraþrór (“Slumber”), Dvalinn (a king of the Dweorg—Dwarves—who forged Brísingamen, Freyja’s amber necklace), and Dáinn are Red Deer stags who run around the upper branches. Like most of the beings on Yggdrasil, they are shapeshifters too. They are dwarvs who agreed to take on the forms of deer so they could control the winds which they carry on their huge racks.Water from the Well of Wyrd drips onto these antlers which forms “honey-dew.” I’ve been told that we can learn to traverse these currents, but that any attempt to manipulate the winds will bring the deer to stop you and toss you into Ginnungagap like used-Kleenex.

The Guardians of the Four Directions are Austri, Vestri, Sudri, and Nordri who take on many different shapes. The four of them can be called on to help out if you have lost your way. They come together like a compass and help you find your way. You likely know that Heathens don’t’ tend to “call the quarters” or “cast a circle. At the beginning of each rite, we “hammer” our “hof” and we invoke the directions, just to ground us and set us in a stable place.

Of course there are Æsir, Alf, Dwarves, Giants, Valkyrie, Wolves like Fenrir, Horses like Alsvid and Sleipnir, Goats, Boars, Cats, and Bears, oh, my!

I’m out of time for now, so here is a link to the first of several posts on the basic geography of Ygdrassil. If you are just learning your way around, I encourage you to poke around Jack’s other Prats on the World Tree.

Until next time, waes hael,

~E


[1] However, according to other myths—Fjölsvinnsmál—the bird is a rooster called Víðópnir who sits at the top of Mímameiðr, much like Yggdrasil. His purpose is to watch over creation. Sort of–there’s more to it.

This post is part of a year-long project, The Pagan Blog Project, “a way to spend a full year dedicating time each week very specifically to studying, reflecting, and sharing your spiritual and magickal path. . . . Each week there is a specific prompt for you to work with in writing your post, a prompt that will focus on a letter of the alphabet . . . .”