Hagalaz , Nauthiz, and Surrender


It finally rained!

For a day I went and danced in it. Celebrated the end of the fire smoke and a welcomed in breath of fresh cool air. Mmmmm. Ah. So cool. In fact SO cold. ‘Shivers’ A bit too cold actually for this little body to wanna dance around outside anymore tbh.

Wooosh~Just now, a gust of wind blows through.

The windchimes are getting louder. Leaves are everywhere. Little ice spheres osciallate in the afternoon sunset. It’s the dark time of the year. Who knows what’ll change crossing the threshold of this season.

It’s a mystery.

I could do everything right in my garden, and then suddenly a hail storm could roll through and ruin it all. And it wouldn’t be because I did the right thing or the wrong thing that the fruit would get knocked from the tree too early. It’s just life. It’s karma.

This acceptance of impermanence is bitter medicine.

But important. Cuz there’s only so much I can control.

Like the rune poem for Hagalaz or ‘Hail’ says,

Hagalaz is the whitest of grain, it’s whirled from the vault of heaven and tossed about by gusts of wind and then melts into water.’

At least the ice becomes nourishment for thirsty soil eventually. Like change can become nourishment for a thirsty soul. .

I mean, what can ya do?

Yeah, my crops may die in the storm . And I could build an eco friendly greenhouse that protects young seedlings from the storm. I could cut back the blackberries and the laurels. And make a seedy weed pile. And lay down compost and manure and mulch to keep the beds warm.

And you know what else?

I’m gonna call the wood guy. And go pick up two barrels full and put it in the back of the SUV. And stop at the store for lemons and ginger on the way. And I’ll carry them into the house and make kindling out of dried flowers in honor of The Mother and her furthest point from the Sun before finally returning home to him.

I’ll sing to her as I rub the two sticks I have together to harvest the last of the tomatoes, young chard and kale. I’ll make tea and I’ll sit by the fire all day in my hoodie and weave knots and sing songs and take naps and snuggle with bae.

I’ll make soup, and reheat it later. Cuz what else am I gonna do?

Like Nauthiz or ‘Need’ says,

Constraint gives scant choice;

a naked man is chilled by the frost.

So I’m gonna chill by the fire this week and keep it real simps through the eclipse. Next week we’ll explore ‘Isa’ or ‘Stillness’ and Jera or ‘Movement’


May our hearts be the altar the hearth our home.


Emily Ra

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