On Being Godspoused to Odin

So I never really publicly discussed this on the Internet before, as I didn’t want to be seen as piling onto the Odin godspouse train, but he has been my husband since early 2017, and we’re coming up on two years now.  It’s much easier for me to talk about Samael and Michael with you guys than Odin, as Odin, to me, is much more someone I worship, a being to devote myself to as both priestess and professed Heathen, in the eyes of the gods, whose bloodline and past life claims on me when I was his skald run deep as my Viking blood.  Honestly, I never really talk about it out of respect, because Odin is MY god, the Norse gods are MY pantheon, and Odin, King of the Aesir, Loki, Freyja, Freyr, and Hela and the ancestors, are much harder things for me to describe.  How do you describe the frenzy of a storm, or lightning striking your oak tree and sanctifying your space, or being claimed by the Madman?  Those who have been following my blog since 2017 remember the frenzy of Odin madness and the mead of poetry leaking out of my ears.  Not only have I been compared to a young Freya Aswynn by people that knew Aswynn very early on, Odin is, in truth, the most like me out of any being.  As a Yngling, he is ultimately my mythic ancestor.

And it’s very difficult to talk about the God that is you, if you were immortal, and is closest to you out of all the gods and goddesses at the heart of your worship.

Odin is everything I aspire to be.  Odin is all the parts of my that I cherish, and all the parts I fear.  We were married in my most prominent human past life and the earliest one I remember having memories of.  I was his volva, traveling skald, and priestess.  Runes, galdr, seidhr, divination, prophecy, poetry.  Those are not Samael or Michael’s gifts. Those come from the Old Man in the Sky, who raised me on stories in pre school.  Some of my oldest memories are climbing a “ladder” to Odin on the moon in the stars and thinking it was Disneyland.

I don’t think I have much to add to the Heathen conversation, god knows there are people like Stephen Flowers out there and Galina Krasskova that I greatly admire, Beth Wodandis and Freya Aswynn herself at the heart of His mysteries.  Unlike Samael and Michael, I am NOT Odin’s equal.  I’m not a god.  I will never be a god.  I am purely human and devotional in the sense I dedicate myself to Odin.  Monthly blots in his honor, devotions at the core of our household where his lavish altar is set up, weekly whiskey and wine and mead on Wednesdays. To me he is the storm.  I am a hurricane.  We are both wind.  My very  good friend, a Lokisman, once said there is nothing in me that is not Odin.  It’s a very private practice that I don’t feel like regurgitating over the whole Internet, because to speak of my relationship with Odin, would be like trying to quantify my ardent worship of nature, or explain poetry, or tame lightning.   Odin is so eminent in every sphere of my life from my madness to my frenzy to my poetry to my scientific passions to the Nelsons, Westendorfs, Wilkes, and Plounks, all of whom are either German, Anglo-Saxon, or Norwegian.  He is a god, not an angel, not a demon, but someone I worship.  I don’t worship Michael or Samael.  I revere Odin.  He puts me into madness, into ecstasy, gives me the ability to cross the hedge and travel the Nine Realms, from Asgard to Vanaheim to Helheim itself.

There’s a reason, on our wedding night, Samael and Michael built my palace and seat of my power in Asgard.  I am a daughter of Odin, in every sense of the word.  He is at the very heart of my devotional practice, and my husband.  He claimed me more strongly than any god ever had or has or ever will, in fact, he’s the only one that claims me.  I don’t plan on going to Heaven or Hell.  I am a daughter of the North, and to the Northern Soul I will return.  Wotan, id est furor.

He know’s I’m too smart for my own good.   He knows I’m a lazy smug little shit that doesn’t have to lift a finger to sit atop the world.  His genius, I possess in spades.  His wit, fuels every aspect of my life from my novels to poems to doctoral work to teaching to academic articles.  Make no mistake, Odin to me is at heart, a teacher.  I am his student foremost, and unlike the Abrahamics, it’s not equal footing.  I am subservient, I am his pupil, I am Odin’s follower.

This is hard to talk about, because compared to most prolific and amazing Odin devotees and godspouses, I feel quite small. It’s difficult for me to talk about the Heathen gods because they hold a place at the core of my heart so deep, with Odin as king, that I can’t make trite poems to capture their majesty.  There are so many great minds that have come before me, from Jung to Aswynn to Flowers to Krasskova to Kaldera, that I will never be on equal footing with, and I love it that way.  It’s nice to be a layperson sometimes, to not be a leader in some dead Demiurge cult or crazy mystic for Jesus.

I’d like others to do the work, the critic in me thinks.  Odin deserves more, though.  Maybe I should share my knowledge.  I’ve studied the lore since the time I was a girl.  Among all my Pagan friends, I’m viewed as a “lore whore.”  A walking Encylopedia of Norse Mythology, as it were.  There is truly no other mythology or world religion that compares to the values of Norse Myths, from love and acceptance to fighting for what you believe in and valuing wisdom and the pursuit of truth and honor above all.  It’s magic is more potent than any other system for me, and totally organic.  I can’t tell you how I instinctively do seidhr or galdr or bloodwork or divination or prophecy, I don’t know if volvas are supposed to.  Above all, I am his skald.  To the Abrahamics, I may be some fucking sacred whore, but to Odin, he called me skald when he claimed me, and he values my wit and words.  Though Audhumla is sacred, I’m not some stupid cow.  I’m more than fertile soil to till.  I’m more than just some wine and cheese altar girl meant to crown the glories of God or Lucifer.

To Odin, I am human.  To the Norse Gods, I am not equal.  I worship them.

To Odin, I am real.  I am my silver tongue like Loki.  I am a witch like Freyja. I am a girl of nature like Freyr.  I am strong like Hela.  And I am an eternal student.  If you want what little I can contribute to Heathenry, Odin to me, is the eternal student.  It is what makes the best of all kings. It is what makes the best of all scientists.

Curiousity and passion for learning, always make for the best students, teachers, and leaders.

Odin wins, not because he is better, but because he is strong, and he takes, and he exerts, and he claims, and gambles, and smoothtalks, and uses his wits and strength, and everything I just said about him, I am saying about me.  Queenship of my Yngling blood.   Magic of my German ancestresses.  The witches and magicians that didn’t burn.

A madman, laughing, swaying from a noose.

Madness, yes.  Poetry, yes. Darkness, yes.  Inside us, uncontrollable thirst.  Death.  A raging destructive storm that razes all in its path.

Wodan, id est furor.

I too am, at my core, fury.

Odin is the most like me out of any spirit alive, but he is a god, and he is who I beseech and pray to and model my life after.

Piety.

Prophecy.

Passion.

Poetry.

And, Power.

I am wed to Blindi.  I am wed to Gangleri. I am wed to Bolverk.

I am claimed by Wodan, and no other.

And I am a storm.

So here’s one for the Old Bastard.

I am proud to be His.