i shadowwalk the barrows gloaming neither flint, nor flesh nor song, nor substance a wraith tethered between neither a living, nor a dying
A rune poem, based on an Elder Futhark rune selected at random.
Today’s rune is dagaz, which has been translated as “daybreak”, that transitional moment between night and day. By extension, it might also be interpreted as “twilight” and is representative of liminality, transformation, the space between worlds, and suggests walking in both the material world and otherworld.
Please visit my Elder Futhark pages at sceadugenga.com for additional interpretations of the runes based on multiple references and personal reflection.
It started about the time I quit smoking, so I always joke that if you gave me a cig, I’d talk your ear [edit: that should be “your shirt”] off while attempting to sell you your own shirt back to you. Or: I blame it on the lack of a smoke, anyway. Either way, it feels like something about smoking made it easier to talk to people.
My other jest: if you put me in front of a microphone and expect me to give a presentation, hand me a guitar as well and I’ll knock it out of the park. It’s more lie than reality, but I could probably give better presentations with a guitar in hand.
Now I fumble over the simplest chatter.
Was it that cigarette? Or was it just having a prop in my hands? A drag on the cigarette as a visual semicolon, gathering my next words before speaking with dramatic tension built up before the exhale and finishing my thought?
Or was it something that helped me focus? I’ll admit my mind is a restless thing, that smalltalk tends to make it wander. I’ve not made it a secret that I’m impatient with extended smalltalk. Was smoking what made it easier to keep my mind on track for social niceties?
Perhaps I should try holding a pen when I go to social gatherings. A toothpick? A fidget toy in my pocket — only someone is apt to notice the movement and think you are diddling yourself…
If I could only manage to avoid putting my foot in my mouth for an hour and then never managing to extract it, but just switch the position as I blush more an more with it sitting there for all to see. Ha ha ha. Ugh.
I’m still one-day-at-a-time with the smokes after well over a decade. I might be an alcoholic still, but I rarely think about finding a drink after roughly the same amount of time. It’s all: Smoke smoke smoke, how can I justify a smoke?
Maybe that’s all this really is, if I’m honest with myself. An excuse looking for a problem.
Maybe all I really need is some more practice being social. Shudder.
Maybe not.
But, man, I do miss that little extra bit of income from selling shirts.
I recently had a lengthy discussion with someone who wanted to share with me their amazing mind-expanding experiences with psilocybin. This person had “an awakening” after the experience and wanted me to hear their version of “the good word”.
I won’t go into the details of their belief system, as it is really unimportant. People believe what they will believe and I try not to judge what they believe, although his awakening is based quite heavily on the use of hallucinogens and convoluted conspiracy theories treated as science by merely applying the word “science” to the material.
Anyway, I think he was trying to get me to join his psilocybin community. Most people would jump at the chance, honestly. Not interested, personally.
my bones all shadowcast—
i need not your shaman
i need not your drugs
i need not your third eye
i dream worlds without drum
A poem prompted by a randomly selected Elder Futhark rune.
Today’s rune is pertho, which has a disputed meaning and there is some indication that any proposed meanings might be based on a corrupted interpretation. The general consensus is that there is likely some relationship to ørlǫg (fate/destiny), luck/gambling or perhaps hidden knowledge.
Please visit my Elder Futhark pages at sceadugenga.com for additional interpretations of the runes based on multiple references and personal reflection.
An old roommate, bandmate and friend came to town today. I’m still not sure what prompted him flying up here from Phoenix, Arizona, but he wanted to spend some time together before meeting up with some other former bandmates and friends at a local pub/open restaurant market.
We went out for breakfast and caught up after 20 or so years of not talking much at all. When someone ups and moves without telling you his plans, it can be hard to keep a friendship up. There was also a matter of religion, or so I think, as he had found his way and I was not interested in walking his way.
Grendel (left) and Grímnir (right), around 15 weeks.
Oof, what a week. But first: kittens
Grendel and Grímnir are growing fast. About every 5 days, Grendel is putting on about 1/4 lb., while Grímnir has started moving at a more modest rate of about 1/8 lb. every five or so days. That make Grendel nearly 5.75 lbs. and Grímnir at 5.20 lbs. Already, these are getting to be big kitties. My smallish ragdoll cat, Pixel, has always hovered around 9.5-10 lbs. (he’s lost weight due to an illness), is quickly going to have larger brothers from another mother at this rate. I wouldn’t put it past Grendel topping 10 lbs. by Halloween and Grímnir not far behind. The way that Grendel likes to eat, it might be sooner.
you can find me
under ash & dream
áldu antlers all around
sleeping stone spoken—
dream harder, dream
A rune poem, based on an Elder Futhark rune selected at random.
Today’s rune is wunjo, which is translated as “joy” and has been interpreted in both the earthly sense as well as in spiritual ecstasy. It has been associated with healing (emotional, mental and interpersonal) and some sources connect the rune to luck, the act of making a wish, or applied will. Wunjo can also be the inspiration for creativity.
Please visit my Elder Futhark pages at sceadugenga.com for additional interpretations of the runes based on multiple references and personal reflection.
