Odin

by Diana L. Paxson

  Practice

  1. Breathe

  Breathe in to a count of four, hold for four, breathe out to a count of four, and hold again. Continue that rhythm, returning to the count if you become distracted. Fill your lungs, let air expand your chest, fill every part of your body, and then, still counting, let it go. As you continue to breathe, feel the oxygen you draw in energizing every cell. As you breathe out, intone the syllable “ond.” Repeat this practice regularly as a preparation for meditation.

  2. Engage in cocreation

  Choose an environmental project and support it with money or, better still, with physical action. Join in a local creek-cleanup day, or a tree-planting project, or take a trash bag on your next hike and clean up the trail as you go along.

  3. Adopt a tree

  This may be a tree in your own yard or in a park. Choose one that is well grown, vigorous, and healthy. Hail it as your kin. Pour out offerings of water. Put your arms around it and send your awareness inward to sense the life flowing upward and downward through the trunk. Then sit down with your back against the trunk.

  Now close your eyes and visualize that day when the gods came walking along the shore. See Odin standing before you. Sit up straight and breathe slowly in and out, paying attention to the movement of air through your lungs. Feel the oxygen in your blood, singing through your veins. Let that energy awaken the awareness of your own spirit. Verbalize the syllables of your own name. Who are you? What does that mean? Then let awareness flow outward into your limbs. Feel the limits of your body, touch your face to relearn its contours. Listen to the sounds around you. Then open your eyes and rejoice in the world.

  4. Fourth Night Meditation: All-Father

  Set up your altar as usual and light a gold candle. You may also want to set out a glass of red wine. Then say:

  Odin, by these names I call you:

  Alfadhr (All-father)

  Fimbultyr (Mighty or Awesome God)

  Godjadharr (God Protector)

  Ítrekr (Splendid Ruler)

  Jörmunr (Mighty One)

  Fjölsvidhr (Much Wise)

  Forn-Ölvir (Ancient Holy One)

  Haptagudh (God of the Gods)

  Veratyr (God of Men)

  In the word of the king is wisdom,

  In the eye of the king is inspiration,

  From his high seat comes protection,

  and holiness from his hall.

  In the mood of the king is might,

  In the hand of the king is healing,

  At his table abundance,

  And bright blessings for all.

  Odin is our king, who rules over Asgard,

  Odin, our father who made for us this world,

  Odin's gift, the way to glory

  If we will but heed his call.

  Visualize yourself standing at the door to Valaskjalf, Odin's hall. It is roofed with silver that blazes in the sun and glitters beneath the stars. Inside, torches burn in their sockets on the carved pillars, casting a flickering light on the weapons and jewelry of the men and women within. As you start forward, you feel a breath of air and a great raven swoops above you and onward.

  Your gaze follows it to the high seat at the end of the hall. Another raven calls a greeting from the post that supports the chair back, all its wood carved in an interlace of figures that seem to move. Two wolves lie before it, gnawing on bones.

  But your attention is fixed on the figure sitting in the high seat, a drinking horn in his hand. A deep blue cloak, edged with silver, drapes his shoulders. Silver also are the clasps and fittings of the dark tunic below, and silver threads glint in the brindled beard and the hair that flows from a silver band around his brow.

  He sits straight, keen eye fixed on something beyond the walls of the hall, and you know he is watching Midgard. The other eye is shadowed. You do not know what that eye sees. As you gaze, the light grows brighter, catching on each point of metal, surrounding him in a golden glow.

  Will you bow before him or try to withstand that piercing gaze? Act as your heart bids, and honor him. Perhaps he will turn and speak to you.

  When the time seems right, return to the door. Breathe deeply, return to awareness of the here and now and open your eyes to the place from which you came.

  In Gunnlödh's Bed

  Who are you?

  Who dares this darkness,

  slithering like a serpent, seeking my bed?

  Long have I waited at Worldheart, warding my secret.

  Who dares draw near to me now?

  You hiss in the shadows, or is it laughter?

  It has been lonely here; I would be glad to laugh . . .

  Ah, I see you now, one eye of light and one of darkness,

  and a breath of air follows,

  a breath of life from the world beyond these walls.

  Well, I am sick of secrets and shadows.

  Speak to me, serpent, what have you to say?

  Tell me a tale; how you traveled in man form,

  tricked the thralls, won Baugi's help with your labor,

  and as Bolverk made him bore a hole through the belly

  of the world.

  You were strong then, and cunning.

  Do you mean to trick me?

  Serpent coils spiral runes around me,

  and serpent tongue whispers a spell.

  Do you think thus to trance me?

  Now it is my turn for laughter.

  Indeed, I admire your transformations,

  but if you would win me,

  you must make another magic.

  What, I wonder, would you have here?

  An hour in my bed, or two, or three?

  Do you draw back from that suggestion?

  Perhaps my appearance is not quite what you expected . . .

  You will have to be cunning indeed to cozen me.

  I am as old as the rocks or the running water.

  I am of the race of Ymir,

  more ancient than any woman you have known—

  Now I see you smiling.

  So . . . you know a way to win me after all.

  Come closer. Please me . . .

  Show me that your lips know more than spells.

  Will you put at hazard even your manhood,

  surrendering your power?

  If you plan to possess me, you are wrong—I will engulf you,

  but you cannot stop now, can you?

  You must give everything, having thus begun.

  I wind you in my arms, all your wisdom lies within me.

  My lips are like honey . . .

  Drink deeply, wanderer.

  Ecstasy fountains upward, filling me, filling you . . .

  Then rest, for you have pleased me well.

  For a night of the world, you may sleep in my arms.

  What, are you not yet ready to leave me?

  Perhaps you are learning—

  I begin to see beauty mirrored in your eye.

  This time, Desired One, it will be easy.

  Come once more to my bed

  while a second night strides across the world.

  Kiss my breasts, and taste honey;

  for you I am all golden.

  Devour me! Consume me entirely,

  drink deeply from the cauldron at the heart of my life.

  All that I am I will give to you,

  for your love has made me lovely.

  Embrace me, my beloved,

  as we build the world anew.

  Now, in my arms you lie exhausted.

  You would sleep for an age of the world.

  But the third night approaches, and there is more,

  you know there is more.

  Do you want it, Old Man?

  Have you the will to seek it

  even when your flesh is weary and your spirit quails?

  You have no lust for it now, have you?

  You look at me and wonder how you could have desired me;

  it would be so easy now to withdraw

 
and slink homeward with what you have won.

  But you will never rest if you leave me now . . .

  Come then, and I will call you Wise.

  Though spirit quails and flesh is unwilling,

  let us seek together through the shadows.

  Sink into my arms, not knowing if death awaits you.

  Now . . . now you are come where Need compels you.

  This vessel is filled with a dark mead,

  bitter to the tongue, but in the belly, sweetest of all. . . .

  The third night is past.

  Wanderer, Beloved, Wise One, I release you,

  for you possess me now entirely,

  and wherever you go, I am there as well.

  Swiftly then, let love grow wings.

  Suttung roars, reaching out for the eagle—

  The jealous ones pursue and attack you.

  Let them lap up the drops spilled by your passing,

  not knowing that what you have won from me

  is a prize they never dreamed.

  Will they say you have stolen my virtue?

  It is not so, for I remain hidden in the heart of the mountain,

  and my cauldrons are always full.

  Those who will give what you have given,

  those who can pursue the path you traveled,

  shall find through your gift, Galdorfather,

  the way to my arms.

  —Diana L. Paxson

  Fig. 12. Oski

  CHAPTER SIX

  Desired One

  Speak fairly and be free with wealth

  If you will win a woman's love.

  Praise the looks of the lovely lass.

  Win by wooing.

  —Hávamál 92

  Though Odin always returns to Frigg, he is often involved with female figures in his wanderings. In books about Norse mythology, descriptions of Odin stress his role as the ruler of Asgard and leader of the warriors who will fight at Ragnarök. As we shall see in chapter 7, all this is true, but a look at the lore will show that more often than any other Germanic god, Odin interacts with women. His interest is not limited to sex. He is even more likely to go to them in search of wisdom. He connects with humans, goddesses, and giant-kin, and he is the primary god for many Heathen women today.

  Under “pleasure names,” Price lists Oski (god of wishes, fulfiller of desire), Sadh or Sann (the true one), Thekk (pleasant, much liked, clever), Unn or Udh (lover, beloved), Njótr (user, enjoyer), and Glapsvidhr (seducer) (Price 2002, 105). Although “Harbard” is a misleading choice from among Odin's names, in the Vikings TV series, the character who goes by that name certainly takes Oski's role in fulfilling women's desires.

  Here we might also place Jolnir (Yule being) and Wunsch (wish), a 13th-century medieval personification, possibly derived from the same root as Wunjo, the rune for joy. As described by Grimm, “The sum total of well-being and blessedness, the fullness of all graces, seems in our ancient language to have been expressed by a single word, whose meaning has since been narrowed down; it was named wunsch (wish)” (Grimm 1966, I:138). In the poetry, God gives “Wish” the power to create perfection. Every Yule, my kindred sings to this composite figure as the German Weihnachtsmann, “Man of the Holy Night.” For the music, see appendix 2.

  Since I live in Berkeley, I am always amused when I encounter references to “Oski,” the Golden Bear who is the mascot for the University of California. The name seems to have come from the “Oski Yell.” At football games, the mascot is fond of making mischief and flirting with girls. Given that Bjorn, “Bear,” and Bjarki, “Little Bear,” are listed by Price among Odin shape-shifter names, my friends and I tend to view him as an aspect of Odin. Flowers are sometimes left in front of his statue before an especially important game.

  Fig. 13. “Oski,” the University of California totem bear, with name

  embroidered on jacket (from the UC Alumni display)

  In the course of his adventures, Odin is linked with goddesses, giantesses, and mortal women. This may or may not involve “knowing” them in the biblical sense. I think that what really drives him is a lust for knowledge. Whether the connection includes sex or not, in the relationships that we know about, he usually has a purpose that goes beyond simply getting laid.

  When I first started working with Odin, one of the first things he did was to put me in touch with his wife and his old girlfriends. Here are some of the things I learned.

  Frigg

  Those who have only encountered Odin's wife as the ball-busting Fricka in the first two Ring operas may wonder what he sees in her. Wagner portrays her as an even bitchier version of the Greek Hera—the archetypal jealous wife, forever scheming to keep her long-suffering husband from wandering. It is said that the characterization was modeled on Wagner's relationship with his first wife, Minna, who had good reason to complain.

  As we encounter Frigg in the lore, we find a very different figure. Her name comes from the old word for love. (c.f. Old English, frigu, love. “Frigga” spelled with an “a” is an incorrect, though very common, version.) The relationship between Odin and his wife is one of mutual respect, and their only recorded quarrels are political.

  If Frigg is not to be viewed as a jealous bitch, how should we see her? The references that are made to her in the surviving literature, though not copious, provide some interesting insights. In Lokasenna, we are told that Frigg is the daughter of a giant, Fjorgynn. The feminine name Fjorgyn is also given to Jordh, Earth. Either way, Frigg comes of giant-kin. By ancestry she is therefore an earth goddess, appropriate mate, and counterpart to a god who rides the skies. Many of Frigg's qualities, such as her rooted stability and deep wisdom, seem to derive from this earthy origin.

  Loki accuses Frigg of having lived with Odin's brothers (Vili and Vé) while he was away (an episode that also appears in the Younger Edda and Saxo's history of the Danes). Since Frigg is otherwise thought of as a model of fidelity, some speculate that the “brothers” are really aspects of Odin. I would offer another possibility: If Frigg is an earth goddess, the territory to which she is linked is that of the Æsir, and she carries its sovereignty. In that case, her polyandrous association with Vili and Vé would give them the legal and spiritual right to reign without interrupting Odin's sovereignty. “Vé,” the holiness of place or spiritual focus, and “Vili,” the Will that rules, remain with the goddess in Asgard while the ecstatic “Wod” wanders the worlds.

  Though Frigg may stay quietly at home, she has been known to take an interest in the affairs of humankind. In the 8th-century history of the Lombards written by Paul the Deacon, we are told that for some reason Odin was against that tribe. Frigg instructed the women to come out with their hair bound beneath their chins. When Odin asked, “Who are these long-beards?” she declared that since he had named them, he was obliged to gift their army with victory.

  Even better known is the story told in Grimnismál. Odin and Frigg had taken under their protection two brothers, Agnar, protected by Frigg, and Geirrod, who was favored by Odin. Through Odin's counsel, Geirrod cheated Agnar out of his heritage and became king, while Agnar ended up in the wilderness. To even the score, Frigg accuses Geirrod of lacking in the primary Germanic virtue of hospitality, and dares Odin to prove it by showing up incognito. She then sends her handmaiden Fulla to warn the king that a dangerous sorcerer is wandering about, who can be recognized because no dog will attack him. Naturally, when Odin shows up at Geirrod's door, the dogs cower before the Lord of Wolves, and the king, determined to find out what is going on, seizes the stranger and orders him to explain himself.

  Odin will say no more than that his name is Grimnir, the Hidden One, so Geirrod has him bound to a stake between two fires. When he has roasted there for eight nights, the king's young son can no longer stand the crime against hospitality, brings the stranger a horn of mead, and sets him free. Odin's first response is to declare that the sovereignty has passed from the king to his son. Then, as if to make up for his silence, the
god gives us forty-seven stanzas of lore. Geirrod, finally realizing just who he has been tormenting, jumps up, trips, and stabs himself with his own sword.

  In his poem “Sonatorrek,” Egil Skallagrimsson refers to the dwellers in Asgard as “Frigg's descendants.” But though she may be regarded as “All-mother,” we know of only one child born of her body—Baldr the Beautiful. The story of his untimely end is also the myth in which Frigg plays the most active role.

  When Odin has returned from Hel with the Völva's interpretation of Baldr's dreams, Frigg acts to save her son by exacting oaths from all things to do him no harm—or rather, almost all. Unfortunately, after completing this labor, she undermines her own action by confessing to an old hag that she has neglected to take an oath from the lowly mistletoe. Of Frigg it is said that she knows all fates, though she does not tell what she knows (Lokasenna 29). One cannot help but wonder why, in that case, she does not realize that her efforts to save her son will be fruitless, or that the “hag” is really Loki, or that telling him about the mistletoe will bring about the very tragedy she is trying to prevent. Her failure to save Baldr is Frigg's first great sorrow, as the claims of motherhood give way to those of wyrd. Her second sorrow, of course, will be her inability to save her husband at Ragnarök (Völuspá 52).

  Frigg is called first among the ásynjur (the goddesses). The sense I have of her is that she is the still center to which Odin, in all his wanderings, can always return. She has been called All-mother, an appellation which seems especially appropriate when we consider that the twelve “handmaidens” whom Snorri associates with her can, in fact, be viewed either as separate figures or as hypostases or aspects of the goddess herself—personae that she adopts to play a more active role.