The Iron Gods, the Earthy Gods

THURISAZ
Thorn

Archetype: VIOLENCE
[i]
Rip, thorn. Ragged, drawn out tear in the fabric. Gaping black out of which monsters (can) come. White teeth, cat teeth, sharks, or the horns of a bull. Wrathful, seriously pissed, lightning hurled down in irritation, flat, hard ramming. Then, silence to lick the wounds and wait until the beep subsides.

The Thurisaz rune initiates the world into the heart of a man, the awesomeness he loves in youth so as to not grow cowardly in age. Memory of disorienting rattling and wounds, a leg stuck to a spike, sudden blood, mesmerizing pain that forgets the future and becomes the now.

The blow of the axe, the small setback in the weaving of a fine fabric. The error around which we seek for re-perfection. In this sense Thurisaz is the father to god or the religious instinct. But it is not the religious instinct, rather the opposite. That which ruptures and ravishes before the maiden is ready.

Cruel bindings, love of life’s zig-zag motions, a too sharp curve in a roller-coaster, a voice breaking, becoming hoarse and truthful. A nail struck right on the head. A single hailstone that comes through the roof and splits the table, shattering the grails and goblets, then laughter and wine and gratitude for life.[/i]

youtube.com/watch?v=Jz9G9aQJkec

Woden, good lad.

ANSUZ
Ancestral God

A secret carved into a tree. The purest of love.

Truth earned.
A wizard appearing in the woods.

A sacred breath in a cave
that sets the walls aglow

Markings appear. A path turns out to have been walked in the dark on uncanny instinct.

Reward for an effort subconsciously made.
Nobility of the will. Death of fear. Ancient innocence.

The first secrets a child learns and keeps in his breast, that will eventually destroy or ennoble him.
dark fears turned to forbidden hopes.
Danger to the soul experienced as the sap pushed upward in a tree.
The knowledge that life, and all being, is change; and the realization following inevitably from that about ones own power.

Respect for speech.
Telling silence(s).

A point of no return. A decison. Madness or certainty beyond good and evil.

Drawing blood to sacntify life. Writing with blood.

The deep silences between the beats of the heart as one knocks on the doors of initiation.

Crossing the threshold of death by the power of friendship. The promise made by the acts of the hero.

Odin, and all noble gods. Love of the Earth. Loyalty. Truth. Undying joy of being.

Brotherhoods in which each is proud to be able to regard the others as superior. Ascension.

Rise of the sun behind a sharp rocky edge. Morning promises to the mountaineer. Bonds made in the wild. Culture before it collapses into civilization. Pinnacle of spirit.

RAIDHO
Ride

Race against time. Rippling force. Cool cats. Privilege, the diving board, the gasping audience in the corner of ones eye. Wild roots, noble lineage of the arrow, racecar, radical crash and burn from which one emerges with a nochalance putting the Phoenix to shame.

Loaded weapon, tense staring, waiting for the fire to fill the void. Natural woman, hot legs in business skirt, clack clack heels on corporate marble, ready to set the room on fire. The swoosh of the heavy door opened with force. Beginning of a fight already won. Confidence.

Warhead painted with flames and pinups. Han Solo jumpstarting the Millennium Falcon. Kicking up dust, leaving the competition coughing and cursing. Curving spacetime around ones velocity. Rule of Mach. People and machines nicknamed Thunderbolt.

Crossing the Equator. Handling great changes like the beating of ones own heart. Thriving on adrenaline. Fearlessness, the wind in ones back. Fast metal riffs. Horses storming forward, crossing the river in a few frenzied seconds. The battlecry that merges with the thundering hoofs.

Active happiness. The joy of him who turned out well. Having passed the test, having become the test.

KENAZ
Torch

Kindling. Having gone to the source. Candle over an ancient scroll. Unfolding a scroll. Crackling in the dark. Bending the knee. Heat from inside. Mystery. Small seeming danger, that which ignorance hates and wishes to crack, what lures a child into the woods. A crooked smile of a crow passing by. Friendliness that has its secret price. Initiation. “You’re part of it now.” The campfire, stories you might miss the point of. A knowing smile. Contempt. An offer you should maybe refuse.

The crooked path that brings back truth. The truth that came at a price. Cynicism. Masked pride, knowledge, the indirect path. The questionmark. The slightly tilted head as one listens patiently to a lie. The secret history of the paintings on the wall. The fleece that masks the light to give it a face.

The cause to the fools jealousy. The pinprick that infuriates. The heights pride alone can not attain. The step, the phase, the winding stairs. The corner, and what waits around it. Maybe.

Connecting two worlds. The threshold and its dwellers. The torch that casts mainly shadows. Flickering shadows. Unseen lightsource. The glimmer of light in the elders eyes. A wink. Calculated, small offense. Being made to question ones morals. The questionable worth of ones morals. The truth that is out there, deep inside the worlds bosom and the magicians mind. Subtle dangers. A segment of the red thread. The labyrinth. Folly of of looking back. Sources having disappeared or closed behind ones back. The possibility of true closeness. Intimacy through experience. Exclusion, exclusivity. The invisibly moving curtain. The motions that induce hypnosis. Words that float in the air and come back with you up the dark stairs and into the sleep, the fire that has been played with.

The distance between question and answer. Apprehension. suspension of judgment. The path that turns into the goal. The equator replacing the equation. How knowledge must be power or is a trap.

The quick flick of the hand, the trick, the click. Loki as a friend. Vo. The burning away of the general, burning pages full of hollow words to leave a red glimmer that points to the depth of nightly knowledge. Meeting each other half way and finding ancient treasure buried there.

Walking with open eyes between two worlds. The owl. Gain through translation. The power of value.

Wisdom that seems like luck. An act impossible to follow. Shedding followers. Meeting true friends. Philosophers.

GEBO
Gift

Gifu
Gif
share
give
crossroads
element
opening
transgression
when ends meet
moment
overture
invite
open arms
awaiting
all over the map
love paralysis
inner compass
collision of tectonic axes

trust
a moment of peaceful relating in a storm
gathering of forces
intentions for the long term
sacrifice of self to joy
new beginning
first motion
center of silence
primordial sigh
which carries forth not all, but the light yet full of heart alone
spirits that travel from heart to heart…
a kings-cross where roads end up
and where a city is born

Bigger than self
Gyfu, gives, grants, gratifies and ingratiates the many that met their match and remains godlike, elusive to those that wander alone, always one road, waiting to be crossed, star-struck.

Jesus shouldnt be used as spam.

… and why not?

Since time immemorial … humans have consistently spammed their favorite “rendition” of God(s) …no?

different strokes for different folks ???

Violence fetish.

I wonder how they would feel to be on the receiving end.

Yes Christianity is far too sick in its violence for this thread. Especially the hypocritical giving alms while a continents population is, males: all murdered, females: all raped.

Difference between Odins warriors and Christian murderers is that the former dont pretend that to murder a person is a gift to him/her, for his/her salvation. What an utterly evil idea.

I dont know whats more sick, Islam or Christianity. But please lets discuss that in your own thread Philo.

Global competition for the “Emmy Award” for evil.

Plausible … yet … an unpleasant thought.

Yet this thread praises violence.

Therefore violence is not evil.

Is the complaint that Christianity is hypocritical?

Thats one of the many ways its ugly yes.

Thats the complaint, it is ugly.

Odins creatures are beautiful. It is okay for us to have taste. Kristjanity has no taste.

For the kristjen taste is vanity. Thats what marks a kristjen.

Please, make your own thread about your own gods. Polite request. If you cant believe it, I will assure you, kristjanity makes me nauseous and ill. It really does, so please dont insist on ruining the experience of this topic.

Thanks.

The OP specifically mentions Jesus and Christianity so it’s entirely on-topic. But you don’t want talk about it. :confusion-shrug:

Reminder:

Here is another thing that FC wrote in this thread:

In what sense are pictures of Jesus surrounded by children, Jesus with a lamb or Jesus curing the sick, not wholesome?

What’s wrong with those images?

Is there something wrong with a man who thinks that those pictures are okay?

ok fair questions!

No to me these pics arent wholesome, because they derive goodness from poverty.
Jesus is supposedly the good guy because childrens and followers are helpless and sick and poor and you need a good vagrant to give them food and healing

So Christianity springs from the instinct of wretch.

Its wholesome or the wretch, for the sick. Thats what the new testament is about isnt it.

Im honest.

I think the Jesus is totally ok. But his peoples shouldnt assume hes welcome to every party. Im not going to make Odinic rituals in a Church on sunday. You see how that would be really rude.

this contains good runes!

[youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lY3n5qt8qbs[/youtube]
freya.jpg

I wonder if anyone can illuminate the rune at 1:53

A letter from Fixed Cross to Lyssa.

[i]Hello Lyssa

I hope this finds you well.
There is a short history I wish to share.

For a while the female poster Mongoose was on our forum, posting love songs to me. At one point she approached me about you and your posts about me. I said I did not mind that you write so much about me, as you are runic.

As soon as that had transpired however, she began to talk about peace where I spoke of war and oath. It seemed she couldn’t control herself, and within a day or two she left, tail between legs, leaving behind only sad messages full of sorrowful indignation.

You are powerful indeed. I don’t know exactly what happened, but since that moment she mentioned you to me and learned of my thoughts, Wendy has walked around without a soul. She has lost her kindness and is now a mere troll of the pale legion.

You, however even with your inabilities and inequities, are still the same as when you first scorned your love and loved your scorn for me.

A bitch that knows herself. Infinitely more beautiful than a bitch that thinks she’s a kind creature. Of which there are so many it sometimes casts a shadow on the entire fair sex.

Thanks for keeping distance, for keeping secrets, and for harnessing your powers in accordance with your nature. All the hate and loathing means nothing compared to a single runic verse.

The future of the North belongs to forces we’ve both grown intimate with. I trust you are as much looking forward to the future as I am. The same fire spreading its scent throughout our worlds.

I honestly care nothing for those who prefer words of peace in this time of war. They aren’t human, they aren’t animal, they aren’t plant - they are mere apparitions in the smoke.

This is the dawn, and streaks of red have crept into the grey.
Pale death take pale hearts, take them away!

sincerely,
Fixed Cross[/i]

Hagalaz
hail
Hell
Heal
Hurdle
heist
hectic hailstorm
hazardous passage
peril
loss
the tower of Babel
civility coming down
the abyss
reality at the bone
turning point
decision
ethics crumble around the need-fire
need-fire pines for ethos
self, daemon
in the white cold
that purified all the shit
cracked its molecules
dust to vacuum
the eye of the will opens
speaks in judgment at the self
as the self, reborn
Hagalaz, Hail
storm, wanton loss
or so it seems…
the owls are not what they seem
the night seems not
only the mind
and even it ceases to make things seem
Hagalaz comes with the anger of Thor
when things have piled up too much
in the wrong way
and beg to fall
Clean Shower
Odins number
Hagalaz

O Urf

ground us

like Heraklit

fragmented yet flux fire
no subtle tracings
only Prometheus cave
Haphaestion
Chirons eternal wound
life is life that cuts into life
did you know this already?
the sea washes away whatever it touches
to wash, to touch,
heathenism
pagan wounds, pagan scourge, pagan earth
yet desolate skies
with Egyptian gods and their funeral processions
blackening the stars
who is Sirius? who is Aldebaran, Antares, watcher of the West? War will be, Regulus falls.

Command, sire.

Command your storm

Europe is yours.

It was the prospect of ‘civilization an sich’ that killed the human spirit.
A formulaic elimination of culture.

Civilization - to what end?
fuck, eat, sleep.
civilization equals animality
culture belongs to the more ferocious creature.