Sing the Secret Songs of Creation (A Gnostic Tale of Heathenism)
God hung out beneath the living tree and heard the whispering winds in its branches, speaking syllables of eternal form and spirit, and falling, he too spoke these precious mysteries hard won. Songs spun from these secret syllables were sent out on many ways, and as the wights galdered, singing hymns and praise, the forming world was filled with spirit. Elves were taught to sing the songs that kept the woods and pastures lively, lyrical, pulsing, vibrant.
But She Who Glittered, with jealousy in her heart for this world emerging beautiful and lovely from the remains of her forebears, who were bearers of chaos and dark matter, set strife into the still-forming world of nature, twisting mysteries meant to enrich life with spirit, and instead, said to strife : conquer and distribute, and make all things through your activity. And all was set at war with each other. Strife gave birth to rank as creatures drowned in the strife and scrambled on top of each other, and there was hardly any glory, even for those on top, who always feared those below might shake them off. Everywhere this spirit of contention wormed its way into the world, its poison attracted goblins and chased out the elves who sang the songs of creation, keeping spirit alive in the world, and there matter became corrupted, until the coils of that great serpent wrapped around a great deal of the earth itself.
And the Gods, taking pity, sent forth a pure soul, one taken from the purest fire, and given the drink of Mimir's blood, Earth's strength, and the Cold, cool sea. This soul travelled on the waves in a barque pulled by swans till it landed on the shores of Midgard, and inside were gifts of knowledge, tools and artifacts not understood by early men, yet taken in as curiosity. The spirit from the pure fire stayed amongst men, teaching them to cast the need-fire, and there find warmth and light, awakening dormant gifts, and redirecting the strife let loose in the world so that it might reach upwards towards Spirit through excellence. And so truth moved to counter the lie, and ever the flame of knowledge must battle against delusion which gained a strong foothold in those early days and still rules much of the earth.
The Pure Spirit from the Fire, who came with a Sheaf of grain and other tools in his barque, later toured the kingdom to see who had grown from the truth sent out to undo the lies. And he found to his sadness that many had given themselves over to the strife, and whole peoples were slaves to the darkness, and cast curses on others, extending the realm of hatred and spite, ill and illusion, and because they had made themselves slaves to the darkness, Sheaf, as he was called, made them do penance by being servants to the light and those who served it. Yet many had remained free of this illness, and kept the dignity of ancient promises, living honest lives, and remaining free. These he blessed as the bulk of the folk that through their assemblies and feasts they might nourish the spirit of truth and keep it alive, remaining free throughout time. Alas, the hordes given over to darkness were many, and surrounding the free folk, often did war upon them, and the light was at times in danger of giving forth to the lie of the darkness. So Sheaf, the great Teacher, called a King or Rig of Lore, knew the land would need protectors, those who might rise above a normal life, teaching and warding the folk, for both teachers and protectors were needed. And those who would be teachers he set up as jarls, and gave them power to train men in the arts of defense, and let them know, when ill nations attacked and they must go into war, any captives made must not be allowed to come into the folk until they too had done penance and purged the illness of strife from their being, and learned the ways of free folk.
This was not the best that could be, but alas, ill had already spread its tendrils far and wide, and so the best for now being no longer reachable, the Gods aimed for good, as good as might be had. Strife had already made many slaves, setting the worst over the best, and Rig aimed at tipping this over so the truly noble, taking on responsibilities and concerns beyond that of normal men, might teach the folk and keep them pure. But arts of battle sadly needed to be taught to the militias that served the teachers, for while Thor and Hodur fought hard to keep monsters out of Midgard, men, given immortal spirit and mind to speak, could call in spirits of ill by invitation, and curse their own kind by bringing bondage into the land.
Today these free ways barely linger, Angst's Power setting gold over virtue, with every man his price, and often the best serving the worst, with deep servitude of those who ought be free.
Who will return to the Ancient Law? Who will claim to be a Child of Heimdall, and not a Slave of Gullveig? Who will hear the call? Show forth with your deeds, for such faith is needed to keep hope alive in a world that ever strangles under the serpent, and those who love gasp for breath in the smoky air that more and more seems to turn this once-green land into a parody of Niflhel's City of the Damned. Who will stand up and be counted amongst the True? We need you. We need your voice, for many of the elves in ancient times joined themselves to the lies of darkness, and ceased singing the songs that keeps creation vibrant. Those places are waiting to be filled by people who will sing the ancient songs. Let me hear your harmonies.
But She Who Glittered, with jealousy in her heart for this world emerging beautiful and lovely from the remains of her forebears, who were bearers of chaos and dark matter, set strife into the still-forming world of nature, twisting mysteries meant to enrich life with spirit, and instead, said to strife : conquer and distribute, and make all things through your activity. And all was set at war with each other. Strife gave birth to rank as creatures drowned in the strife and scrambled on top of each other, and there was hardly any glory, even for those on top, who always feared those below might shake them off. Everywhere this spirit of contention wormed its way into the world, its poison attracted goblins and chased out the elves who sang the songs of creation, keeping spirit alive in the world, and there matter became corrupted, until the coils of that great serpent wrapped around a great deal of the earth itself.
And the Gods, taking pity, sent forth a pure soul, one taken from the purest fire, and given the drink of Mimir's blood, Earth's strength, and the Cold, cool sea. This soul travelled on the waves in a barque pulled by swans till it landed on the shores of Midgard, and inside were gifts of knowledge, tools and artifacts not understood by early men, yet taken in as curiosity. The spirit from the pure fire stayed amongst men, teaching them to cast the need-fire, and there find warmth and light, awakening dormant gifts, and redirecting the strife let loose in the world so that it might reach upwards towards Spirit through excellence. And so truth moved to counter the lie, and ever the flame of knowledge must battle against delusion which gained a strong foothold in those early days and still rules much of the earth.
The Pure Spirit from the Fire, who came with a Sheaf of grain and other tools in his barque, later toured the kingdom to see who had grown from the truth sent out to undo the lies. And he found to his sadness that many had given themselves over to the strife, and whole peoples were slaves to the darkness, and cast curses on others, extending the realm of hatred and spite, ill and illusion, and because they had made themselves slaves to the darkness, Sheaf, as he was called, made them do penance by being servants to the light and those who served it. Yet many had remained free of this illness, and kept the dignity of ancient promises, living honest lives, and remaining free. These he blessed as the bulk of the folk that through their assemblies and feasts they might nourish the spirit of truth and keep it alive, remaining free throughout time. Alas, the hordes given over to darkness were many, and surrounding the free folk, often did war upon them, and the light was at times in danger of giving forth to the lie of the darkness. So Sheaf, the great Teacher, called a King or Rig of Lore, knew the land would need protectors, those who might rise above a normal life, teaching and warding the folk, for both teachers and protectors were needed. And those who would be teachers he set up as jarls, and gave them power to train men in the arts of defense, and let them know, when ill nations attacked and they must go into war, any captives made must not be allowed to come into the folk until they too had done penance and purged the illness of strife from their being, and learned the ways of free folk.
This was not the best that could be, but alas, ill had already spread its tendrils far and wide, and so the best for now being no longer reachable, the Gods aimed for good, as good as might be had. Strife had already made many slaves, setting the worst over the best, and Rig aimed at tipping this over so the truly noble, taking on responsibilities and concerns beyond that of normal men, might teach the folk and keep them pure. But arts of battle sadly needed to be taught to the militias that served the teachers, for while Thor and Hodur fought hard to keep monsters out of Midgard, men, given immortal spirit and mind to speak, could call in spirits of ill by invitation, and curse their own kind by bringing bondage into the land.
Today these free ways barely linger, Angst's Power setting gold over virtue, with every man his price, and often the best serving the worst, with deep servitude of those who ought be free.
Who will return to the Ancient Law? Who will claim to be a Child of Heimdall, and not a Slave of Gullveig? Who will hear the call? Show forth with your deeds, for such faith is needed to keep hope alive in a world that ever strangles under the serpent, and those who love gasp for breath in the smoky air that more and more seems to turn this once-green land into a parody of Niflhel's City of the Damned. Who will stand up and be counted amongst the True? We need you. We need your voice, for many of the elves in ancient times joined themselves to the lies of darkness, and ceased singing the songs that keeps creation vibrant. Those places are waiting to be filled by people who will sing the ancient songs. Let me hear your harmonies.
posted by SiegfriedGoodfellow at 9:42 AM
2 Comments:
Have you thought about publishing the contents of this blog as a book? Your work is inspired, and I wouldn't mind reading it on the train, you know?
Thank you! In fact, I am in process of formating a PDF file to be able to infill the best of these into a book or two. Hopefully it will do for on a train or in a bath, in a box or with a fox, and so forth. I will be posting updates as progress is made on this project.
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