Hela and being humble

Good morning lovely Heathens.
Today I want to share a thought on the sacrifices we each make on this path, as well as the notion each new path we set out upon will have its trails and tempering.


The more “Adept’ one becomes in the role of Healer or Priest (usually both) the more personal and sublime the tests of ability to hold such power becomes.
There is no failure, nor success, there is only Authenticity in growth and adjustment to our Wyrd that we co create every waking moment of everyday.
To wield the powers we are gifted with requires humble, yet noble and regal, respect.

Respect for ourselves, our intentions, our Gods, our magics, and how we go about our daily interface with the world at large.


Know you will have many failures, and some of them will be so grand you will doubt everything you feel is your truth-but here lies the crux of the matter:
To fail miserably as an Adept Seidkonna, or Seidman is your sacrifice that you will give over and over again. But to continue to grow, learn, forge ahead and use magic to turn rotten lemons into the sweetest lemonade you’ve ever drank is in turn our Gift of Authenticity.


I’m going to share a story I think really happened, but in the end the Authenticity of this story that matters isn’t in if it really happened, but instead what will lye in the growth afterwards.

“I was locked in an in between place, not asleep in trance anylonger but not fully awake.


The past few months of endless revisits of old demons and the relentless attempts of endless purification and healing brought me to new levels of occult activity and “gifts” I was suddenly able to accomplish, but in doing so I began to question my sanity, my competence, and my right to wield such knowing.


I was told to seek She who Guards The Dead, a cousin of sorts, but She is a being I avoided as I didn’t fully understand Her Power.


Death can be quite subtle you see.

And life can be carelessly ignored; as at times we grow used to living with our eyes shut, our hearts locked away, and the magics we spin become a commonplace event to us.


I sat up at midnight, my heart hammering in my chest as I tried to adjust my eyes to the darkness.

I knew She was there before she spoke.


“You called to a hugr today, yet you’ve never even stepped foot in my hall in this incarnation.

What gave you this right? Did you not consider some kennings are not for even a Witch to speak? Your boldness is you strength but is also your demise.


You are blind to much that is underfoot, yet you seek those things that can only be sought through TRADITION.


I choose who speaks with Those I Hold, for everyone who must will return to their Heaths after spending time in my mound.What they know and remember are the deepest of mystery and are not allowed to be plucked out of hiding simply because its possible.


Earn your way to these gifts, do not be prideful and just demand them. Some will respond to loud demands, but I will not.

You must now pay sacrifice for the power you recklessly took, and these lessons will be your most trying yet.


Learn to control your nature, and keep the Sacred Silence.
Don’t deny your Nature, work within it, fully.
I can’t be moved by love, sorrow, regret, or shame; it’s not my Nature to do so.


It is in your nature to be moved by these things and much more. Choose wisely the power that moves you in your Nature. All can be allies, but some can at best make you loose your way, and at worst bring you to my Hall for a time when perhaps you are not wanting the Silence of The Mound.”

I never said a word, I just listened to Her voice that sounded like shadows moving within the dark spaces of a grave, and I nodded.


Now as morning dawns I look out at grey sky and with a gentle rain falling I smile at my understanding I have so much more to learn.


Change and growth are as much a part of Life as Death Herself is, and how we face our Nature is what all the Sagas sing about.


~I decided I want to leave behind a catchy tune based on honoring Tradition that folks can tap their toes to while they whistle along, and I am willing to make the necessary Sacrifice to know my Saga is told, and told authentically.


Skal!

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