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Seidkonacat's Fróðleikr-Bók

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Wild Places II

Postby seidkonacat » Thu Jun 05, 2014 12:28 am

Tomorrow I will go again into the wild places.

Into the deepest parts of the state park, into the gloaming.

We'll see what happens. We'll see.
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John Barleycorn

Postby seidkonacat » Thu Jun 05, 2014 2:07 am

A folk-music version of the ancient myth of death and rebirth. The turning of the year. Sacrifice and resurrection. Addiction and release. It is at least 500 years old, quite possibly much, much older; a relic from Neolithic times (10,200 B. C.E. to 2,000 B.C.E.) "John Barleycorn represents the Wheel of the Year; death, resurrection, and ascension to a higher form. It also represents triumph born out of suffering, something that is very important to me right now.

There were three men came out of the west, their fortunes for to try
And these three men made a solemn vow
John Barleycorn must die
They've ploughed, they've sown, they've harrowed him in
Threw clods upon his head
And these three men made a solemn vow
John Barleycorn was dead
They've let him lie for a very long time, 'til the rains from heaven did fall
And little Sir John sprung up his head and so amazed them all
They've let him stand 'til Midsummer's Day 'til he looked both pale and wan
And little Sir John's grown a long long beard and so become a man
They've hired men with their scythes so sharp to cut him off at the knee
They've rolled him and tied him by the waist serving him most barbarously
They've hired men with their sharp pitchforks who've pricked him to the heart
And the loader he has served him worse than that
For he's bound him to the cart
They've wheeled him around and around a field 'til they came unto a barn

And there they made a solemn oath on poor John Barleycorn
They've hired men with their crabtree sticks to cut him skin from bone
And the miller he has served him worse than that
For he's ground him between two stones

And little Sir John and the nut brown bowl and his brandy in the glass
And little Sir John and the nut brown bowl proved the strongest man at last
The huntsman he can't hunt the fox nor so loudly to blow his horn
And the tinker he can't mend kettle or pots without a little barleycorn
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A Meditation on Water Magic and Healing

Postby seidkonacat » Thu Jun 19, 2014 12:57 am

Absorb thyself in this great sea of the Waters of Life.
Dive deep in it until thou hast lost thyself.
And having lost thyself, then thou shalt find thyself again.
Even as it is written,
“She had her dwelling in the great sea and was a fish therein.”

— The Book of Tokens, by Paul Foster Case.
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An Invocation To Frigg

Postby seidkonacat » Thu Mar 05, 2015 12:27 am

((Goodness me, it's been a long time! It's time I got back in the game, as it were.))

An Invocation to Frigga

You are the goddess of wisdom and prudence
Lady of Fensalir, wife of great Odin

Ruler of Asgard, cunning and subtle
You who sees all and speaks not

You weave fate and mystery on your great loom
And keep all your secrets behind the lock of your lips

I have need of your wisdom and aid in the coming days
And humbly ask for your guidance

Lady of Asgard, Keeper of Secrets
You who sees all and speaks not

Lady Frigg, I hereby invoke your holy presence
and honor you here in my home

I pray for your guidance on this day and the days to come
You who sees all and speaks not.
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Quotes: Men, Women, Nature, History

Postby seidkonacat » Mon Mar 09, 2015 4:35 pm

Do you really believe...that everything historians tell us about men-or about women-is actually true? You ought to consider the fact that these histories have been written by men, who never tell the truth except by accident.

-Modesta Pozzo, "On the Worth of Women"

We are also daughters of the great and we have wills and courage of our own. Therefore, do not bend. Once bend a little and they will bend you further until you are bowed down. Sink your roots into the rock, and face the wind, though it blow away all your leaves.

-J. R. R. Tolkien, "The Mariner's Wife"

The winds whispered in soothing accents
and maternal Nature bade me weep no more.

-Mary Shelly
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Postby seidkonacat » Sun Aug 14, 2016 8:45 pm

"Go over and over your beads,
paint designs on your forehead,
wear your hear matted, long,
and ostentatious.

But when deep inside of you
there is a loaded gun
how can you know the Gods?"

-verse by Kabir, translated by Robert Bly, slightly modified by yours truly to give it a polytheistic bent
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