Hail Sunna!

Recollections and reflections on the Thornhaven Solstice Ritual.

I had been planning for this for weeks, bought a set of Runes, created a Rune Poem to help me prepare. I was going to act as Vetgam, the Wanderer, one of the names of Odin. I had also prepared my first Sumbel Oath. This was going to be a very big night.

There were many preparations to make, and Pam took care of the lion's share of getting together all of the food and offerings. I was explaining my oath to Irisa, when she graciously volunteered to act a witness to it. She is thousands of miles away, and asked that I send it to her. But I hadn't even written it yet! As soon as the thought entered my head, the verses started to flow. It was poetry, but unlike anything I had ever written.

I sat to write my oath, the words and ideas flowing onto the page. I read it to Pam and she seemed genuinely shocked. It was a powerful oath, but she said it didn't sound like me. I assured her that this came from my heart and mind, but it was so unlike any other poetry I had ever written, my First Oath for example, that it seemed somehow alien. As Apollo is my God, his influence over me is strong, and I have felt that evidence (for me) of his power is shown through the precision of the verse forms I write in. This new oath was free flowing, strangely full of internal rhymes, a mix of imagery and reality. Pam said it was like someone else had had a hand in writing it. Both of us realized at the same time that it was Odin. There was a strong feel of the Rune Poem surround the Oath. He and Apollo were apparently working together to get me through this.

I asked Julie, Pam, Irisa and Diane to witness my oath (2 present, 2 distant). All agreed that this was a strong oath, but if I felt I should do it, the do it I should.

The trip to Thornhaven was long, and Pam and I talked. We had a wonderful conversation with Irisa on the way, and though we arrived later than anticipated, we were ahead of the majority of the participants. In order to keep an air of mystery and secrecy about the coming 'Visitor' we were to keep a low profile.

Julie showed me to the living room and gave me a cloak and staff for my outfit. We tied a bandage around my left eye. Most importantly, she left me to meditate. This was an important role, and I wanted to embrace it fully. So I meditated, and prayed that Odin and Apollo would fill and guide me through this evening, and that their wills would be done. The ritual would be taking place outside the house, in the Mead Hall.

The group of celebrants left for the hall after their preparations, and I was left alone.

The ritual began, and I went outside. It was extremely cold. I had consciously decided to not wear gloves or scarf and to wander with my coat and cloak open. Outside, Brad was tending the torches outside the mead hall, with mixed success. We spoke briefly and deeply, but frequent interruptions would drive me into the darkness. It was starting to get lonely. I witness a magic about him. Twice in his attempts to keep the torches lit, his entire hand exploded in the blue flames of the fuel. He was surprised but merely shook it off. This further increased my level of loneliness. He was kind, but very different from me.

As the ritual wore on, I could see the faces in the warm glow of the Mead Hall through the windows. They were laughing, lighting candles, listening with rapt attention to the ritual. They decorated the tree. I stood outside, growing colder and colder, and felt like the outsider. Brad was friendly with me, but he could walk in any time he liked. I was truly alone. My hands and feet were hurting now, past the cold buzz of a brief exposure.The cloak protected my face, but there was no body heat to spare for the limbs. I was in pain. The staff was a frozen rock in my hands and I could hardly hold it. I yearned for the warmth of the fire and of my friends, and did not know when I would see them. For a preciously brief moment, I was the outsider, the stranger, the beggar on the street, with no warmth, and worse, no hope.

I was lost in thought, in the blackness of a cloudless, star-filled night. When the time came to enter the rite, I was shivering, my hands were cramped, and the shuffle I had thought of adopting came naturally as I drew into the Mead Hall. I was also confused, my typical surety gone. I could not even feel grateful for the gift of warmth, just the need for it. I banged on the door three times with my staff, and the door was opened. The place was quiet, and the laughter I had been longing for was silent. The hood was drawn far over my face, so I could not see their faces, and they could not see mine.

I shuffled into the room,  and I was disoriented. All this was so strange to me. I was guided to a chair by the fire, while someone spoke some ritual phrases of welcome. They didn't mean anything to me. I was too cold, too hungry. Finally, a mead horn was passed to me, and shivering, I drank draught after draught. I was handed a plate of food, which I ate greedily and noisily. The room remained silent. I could not see anyone, but I knew they were staring at me, watching the desperation with which I ate and drank.

My breathing began to slow, and finally, the shivering reduced. I passed the half eaten plate back, and sat quietly, breathing deeply to inhale the warmth.

Finally, I spoke, the first lines of my script coming to my mouth from the depths of my memory. "I am Vetgam, the Wander, known by many names. Seeker of Knowledge, Seeker of Truth." I remove the hood to reveal my bandaged head, one eye looking about the room. I continued with the script, feeling the victory welling up within me when I said "Crying I brought forth the runes!" and held the bag up for all to see.

All were quiet, some serene, some confused, a few frightened. I called them forward to dare and take a rune. Almost all there drew, and as they drew, I felt myself shift and dance and see the weave and the weft of meaning. As I consulted the Rune Poem, I would offer and add additional insight. Many times the same rune was drawn, Isa, the cold slippery ice of winter's hidden depths. Each time a different interpretation came forward unbidden. On only one occasion did I not offer the first reading. A child of the north, one dedicated to the Old Gods, came forward and stated "I make my own destiny, but I would seek your wisdom." When he drew from the pouch, he handed me the stone. Looking, I handed it back and said, "What do you see?" When he had paused, and stated his understanding, I confirmed it and added an additional layer of meaning and responsibility. Here was a strong leader, a fearless warrior. I had never met the man, yet I knew him.

The readings were nearly complete, yet there seemed to be some hesitancy, some confusion. So I called to any who would dare to draw a second time. One stood forth, and reaching into the pouch withdrew the same stone as as first. The message would not be rejected. I asked if there was understanding of the message. "It's hard!" came the reply. "Try losing an eye!" I retorted jokingly. The tension broke and all were laughing. The final rune drawn, I stood and made my way slowly to the door. Calling out my final challenge to head the messages given, I left the mead hall.

I slowly wandered back to the house, and removed the items of costume. I meditated on the meaning of this singular experience. I had been there, and yet it felt different, distant. Like watching it through another's eyes.

After some time reorienting myself to the world, I causally wander back into to Mead Hall and was welcomed in as if it was the first time they had seen me. It wasn't an act, for many understood that the first appearance was indeed that of the Wanderer. I ate, drank and visited with everyone, enjoying the friendship, warmth and entertainment.

Finally it came time for the Sumbel. Auz (the known/unknown warrior) stood to lead us in the Toasts to the Gods, and to the Kindred. The third round came, and it was my turn to read my Oath. All were respectful, and when I sat, I was asked to explain what each part meant. When I describe the stanzas, and the three oaths, Auz asked what the consequences would be of failing to fulfill my oath.

The first oath, that of completing the Dedicant Program prior to next year's end, was backed up by shame. "Not good enough!" he said  and the rest of the grove agreed. If I was going to feel shame, it would not be mere embarassment. I then decided that if I fail to acheive my DP, I have vowed to take out a Half page add in the Oak Leaves to announce my failure. They agreed that this would be sufficient

The second was for the completion of the Stoic Training. I originally suggested that I would burn my books. Auz rejected this out of hand, saying that the destruction of knowledge is unworthy of anyone. He suggested instead that I donate my books to the grove's library (he is not part of the grove). This was as big a deal for me, as I love not only reading books, but possessing them as well.

The final consequecne, was surrounding the creation and publication of the Greek oracle. There was already a sacrifice involved (giving up TV for a year), but should I fail, I would remove everything from my life and retreat (without electronics) to a lonely place to contemplate and complete the work.

So these were the consequences, and they were agreed to by the witnesses, and we drank to it. The rest of the night passed in fun, in discussion, in reflection. Many slept, Pam and I stayed by the fire, dozing on and off. At dawn we held the final part of the ritual, Hailing Sunna in the east. We stood in the snow of the pre-dawn light, shivering, tired and joyful.

Following the conclusion of the ritual, we had breakfast together, sat and talked some more, while one or the other dozed. We finally left at around 9 am, and headed home to sleep for a few hours before preparing for the next ritual that afternoon, our Saturnalia!