Ch-ch-ch-changes…why I hate Hagalaz

Hela and Muninn- Huginn never leaves Odin these days (Artist unknown)

Hela and Muninn- Huginn never leaves Odin these days (Artist unknown)

My fiancee is a chosen of the Gods of Death, it seems- he isn’t dying by any means, but he has the uncanny knack to get the attention of anything remotely close to a psychopomp; Hela, Cernunnos, The Morrigan and Anubis; from ancient Eresh-kigal to the young Baron Samedi.  They like his silence, they like that to others he appears to be a blank canvas on which people paint their own ideas of who he is- and then, as he comes into himself, people flee from him as if he were death itself- in a culture that makes death invisible behind closed caskets and bottom-floor mortuaries.   The inevitable for all is hidden and feared as we hide behind a culture of eternal youth and yet never-maturity.   Elderly people who hold the strong rationales of the young that they are always correct, immortal, and untouchable…. until their first heart attack, stroke, or cancer- at which point, they cling even more desperately to this world, seeking refuge in anything that will remind them of anything but what lies at the end-(or new beginning, my Buddhist and Deutsch friends)

For me, it’s tricksters- Raven, Fox, Loki, Odin, Eris, Inari, Papa Legba, Enki, Hanuman, Ganesha, Coyote, Hermes….then out of nowhere, breaking the pattern there is  Tyr, and to utter confusion, Allah- the greatest trickster of all whose Sufi followers seem entranced in a dance of chaos and order too complex to follow- if anyone even still knows of Him as Divine Love, now hidden behind the words of men who read the Hadithe and not the Quran.   An ancient God based on the goodness of Zoroastrian Ahura Mazda (Ohrmazd) who has now been confused with Angra Mainyu (Ahriman)- the bringer of ill thoughts, ill words, and ill deeds- rather than good thoughts, good words, and even better deeds.  A God of both Fire and water who is now seen as a God of subjugation, sand, and fear.

I also Know a man who calls Krishna a pacifist.  I have read the Bagavahd Gita where Krishna speaks to his charioteer Arjuna about the necessity of death and change.  The flute playing philandering is simply a hobby after the blood has dried from his blue hands.

I am tired of being change.  I am tired of being the canary in the metaphysical coalmine who brings false teachers to the open, liars to their knees, and stands at the last crossroads before enlightenment becomes impossible.  The last warning before you decide to give up on your dreams and submit to the machine, to fall to your knees into perpetual slavery of society, of the mind, and the subjugation of art and intellect in favor of comfort and security- fame and “success”.   I can tell people that this life is an illusion until I’m blue in the face, I can tell them that material things, youth, beauty, and popularity are not eternal. I can show evidence that time and matter as we perceive them are a priori and not true reflections of reality with citations from the most famous and respected physicists and philosophers.

I can challenge you, I can stare you down, I can be your equal, your adversary.  I become more than a human and less- I become a line on a checklist of things that stand in the way- a thing, an “it”…and not in the respectful “it” as found in non-gendered languages such as Persian.

Am I bitch or a woman “with the mind of a man?”
Why are most of the “great” philosophers/geniuses Queer?
Is Loki a man or woman?
He was a mother,  I can never be.
Does it matter?

Everything was fine until I came, I know.  Everything would be different if I were not here- they say, those with lies between their teeth and their mirrors covered with Dorian Gray paintings of themselves as they wish to be seen- their ugliness on the inside.

Don’t trust the beautiful people, the beautiful gods who shine with perfection-  They are the most cruel, violent, and sadistic.  The perfect send she-bears to devour children, Divine Angels to slay the firstborn, and beg for their sheep to be lead quietly to the slaughter at the end of existence, meek and docile convinced of their worthlessness and shame for daring to exist at all- all things, sinful- to question is to cause problems, to stir the pot, to bring chaos.

Hush, quiet…be safe and say nothing; ignore the lies, the blood, and the slaughter that has been funded by your shopping sprees for  this millennium….the money you used to give to the Church you prayed to for salvation in the middle ages funded wars and inquisitions- the money you spend in consumerism is no different.

“I want to be rich!”  people say, they step on their own children and regard their grandchildren with suspicion over green pieces of paper and numbers on a screen that are not even backed by real substance; there is no more silver or golden standard.  They huddle in unhappy lives, chained to ideas and people in fear of being alone while they alienate those they are truly responsible for.  No cocktail party in the world will erase the failings, injustice, false judgement, and division caused by those who would divide the people and claim the poor the enemy and bow before the rich as examples of morality and righteousness.

No camel can enter heaven through the eye of the needle, and the man with 2 wolves at his feet asks to rest in your home in tattered clothes and raven feathers in his wide-brimmed hat.  Jesus walks from city to city in sandals, and Siddhartha gave up a kingdom to understand suffering.

I have known and lost so many great teachers that I cannot trust any of them any more, except for the dead- I’m sure even C.S. Lewis was fallible, however, no man had ever so gracefully explained how all religions can co-exist peacefully- hidden in a fantasy kingdom there were Gods of oceans and trees, and centuries of peace as the faun held hands with the badger, beaver, and human….where there was something undefinable that unified and created it all.

William Paley, if you were alive….I would ask you if that watch in the desert was discarded after it was made perfect to represent the illusion of time- or if others are right and you meant intelligent design.   Nietzsche would claim abandonment then death of the Creator as the watch of our world rusts in our hands.

There was a Parsi Musician who died because he loved too much and too strongly, and was buried with the flames of Ahura Mazda burning brightly at his funeral and his music still inspires more people than Rumi/Molavi….   But since I have described him by traits you did not know him by, you do not see him as one of your champions-  one who looked death in the eyes and looked the world in the eyes to say : “I Still Love you.” days before he crossed his bridge across the chasm to what lay beyond.  His riches given to charities and those he loved most.

I know an Irish magician who wanders with no true home, and I trust him more than I would any academic- though the first thing he will tell you is that he is “mad”.   Madness is liberating; he says.  I concur, the line between genius and madness so very thin-  Loki and Odin cross wrists across that line- but who is on which side at any given time?  They are brothers and their choosing of each other as family is irreversible- not with a drop of blood-but a deluge.

I know a man with a crooked face who paid thousands to fix what a Norseman would see as blessing from Odin, what a Sufi would see as a warning from Allah, and that I saw as character- to be washed away with ebb and flow of money, the thought that the insecurity felt within would be staunched like wound- a wound that bleeds red against white- but the green bears the faces of false leaders- not the green of liberation.

Question, my half-faced friend- how much did you spend on fixing your external false-flaws that could have been given in Zakat?  Oh, but I forget myself.  Atheism is in fashion- to declare with absolute certainty that there is nothing to hold one accountable, there is no watch in the desert, no watchmaker, or Great beast, lion, wolf, or jackel that will weigh your heart on the balance of life and death.

So, do you name the stars in the sky and know each by name?  Can you tell me how to split the moon, and the intricacies of the human circulatory system?  Can you name for me the those who die each day with pinched faces of starvation of your ancestral homeland?


Is your totem the duck or the rabbit?

If you do not know everything, then how can you tell me there is nothing beyond this world when you close your eyes to the world you live in?  What color is your world Grue or Bleen?

We speak of Philosophers and Scientists as if they hold keys to mastery that we cannot obtain-  many go on to higher education to learn how to plagiarize the works of hundreds to create papers that say nothing new at all- the unverified personal gnosis has been vilified- unless it has been experienced by a trusted source. Alan Watts is reduced to a mere footnote or a quotation. William James and Rudolph Otto, both as dead as Wittgenstein and Tesla- (both of which spent their lives dancing with death.)

Nietzsche, Tesla, Crowley, and Nijinsky danced with madness at their ends….but we like to forget their ends- for endings are uncomfortable, especially for geniuses who died ignobly instead of in wealth, opulence of funeral, and with weeks of mourning and gnashing of teeth at their deaths.

Machiavelli died with all the accolades of a Prince- and so, he is revered and more known than the quiet words of Cunningham, LeVay, and Farrar.

We live in a world of a religion of Science which has discovered God in a particle, but magic is the domain of the mad.

“There is freedom in Madness,”  Quote the Irish Shaman– as the fires roared and the coals glowed red against cerulean skies and bright spring grass.  We broke arrows upon our throats for Justice and Confidence.  We shared garnets and mica from the stream and drank water among the gypsies, folk and fae.

Today I am angry at the world, and I hate myself for being the change I wish to see in the world.  I change my surroundings by being mostly unchanging myself-  I do not flow like the river, I am the marble that has been worn away by tears, and torn down by chisels, axes, and the occasional hammer.

I shine and reflect you to yourselves and you blame me for your own failings, I bear a torch and you supply the gas for the flame so all eyes look to me when change occurs.  The invisible fumes, deadly, toxic- and my fire sets them alight illuminating me against your darkness.

So, you bring me your personal demons- your wild wolf self chained in the sound of a cat’s footfalls, the breaths of fish on air, the roots of mountains, the sinews of bear, the bearded woman, the spit of the swallows who build their nests on the side of the rocky crags only to be stolen and made into soup.

The wolf within you is the only thing of value left of yourselves, and you hold that bright beast in contempt for the idea of freedom, sovereignty, and mastery where no man or woman is your better- where you can run with quicksilver paws on ice and endless fields and howl.

…and you eat like the prey you are, many of you.  Weakened and enslaved by trends and fashion-  never knowing the feeling of life fleeting from a warm body- that final shuttering breath and silence in a world of colorful noises.

Never tasting the flesh of the wild- the deer caught mid-leap, the pheasant fallen from flight, or the salmon caught falling upsteam in one fatal leap.

“Kill my wildness; hide me from Summer, Winter, Spring and Fall- take me from my family and give me a Master who is generous.  Take away my desire to run and sit me silently in the ranks of the living dead.  Let me ask your permission to shit and piss and to go home to take care of my ailing family and brief moments in the lives of my children, who are raised in institutions and chained to desks metaphorically as child laborers in third world countries are chained to looms; both learning nothing of consequence to better themselves.”  and these selfsame people look to me as Antagonist, the unchained, dangerous, and ruinous …and I shake my head.

I dream of a moon above a peaceful city of towers and domed holy places... I make my own reconciliation between past and present.

I make my own peace/reconciliation between Time, Earth,and Sky

The path to the sky begins with a sound and continues with action.

The path to the sky begins with a sound and continues with action.

The red moon shines above a city that forces each man and woman to their knees before it, and I wonder- is there a single free soul left in the shadow of Damavand? I was trapped by love letters from a non-cisgender diaspora from their city that destroyed me.  Then I look to my right and I remember how I got here: a journey started with the first sound in the universe, it is said-  and then my own movement initiated by one of the many great Promethean figures- His green eyes burn, His hair red like smokeless flames- a prince of Jinn and an ancient god of Northern hearths.   So many forget what it feels like to bathe in the heat of flame, the flow of streams, to feel the wind upon their faces and the Earth beneath their feet.  A person can write love letters and forget what it means to love.

I am free in my own way… and for that people despise me.  In truth, I no more free than you are. It began with a necklace of the first sound- and the command of a red haired god of green eyes:  I am caged by my own fears- by letters like green ribbons  which I stole from a two-spirit who would not grant me peace nor reconciliation- but I am brave enough to wear a sign of a God that is quickly being forgotten among Hadith, violence, and propaganda.  Would you dare to mark yourself with forbidden symbols and remind yourself that only a one green thread kept you in Hell and away from Hel?

You remain captive in soulless rooms filled with atrophied spirits, and I find myself trapped within my own home, afraid of going anywhere at all without a companion at my side or at journey’s end.  Are we so different?

Evidently, yes.   I am free to speak what words I wish when I wish.  I am free to speak the truth without caring of the consequences from any human; I have been too fucking hurt to care:

Os, the Rune of the uncomfortable truth

Os, the Rune of the uncomfortable truth

According to This site: “Os, the Rune of the God-Voice, is vied for by several deities. It is sometimes associated Bragi, the skald of the Norse gods, and sometimes with Odin himself when he speaks through a human body. It also has an affinity with Odin’s blood brother  Loki the Trikster. What each of these deities has in common is that they represent different ways of speaking divine truths through a human mouth. The skald or bard speaks or sings dramatically, moving the crowd to new emotions. The prophetic voice is often confusing, bringing the stories of the future to the waiting crowd of the moment, but it also important is helping them to touch the divine WodOs, the Rune of the God-Voice, is vied for by several deities. It is sometimes associated with Bragi, the skald of the Norse gods, and sometimes with Odin himself when he speaks through a human body. It also has an affinity with Odin’s blood brother and arch enemy(SIC!), Loki the Trickster. What each of these deities has in common is that they represent different ways of speaking divine truths through a human mouth. The skald or bard speaks or sings dramatically, moving the crowd to new emotions. The prophetic voice is often confusing, bringing the stories of the futurwith e to the waiting crowd of the moment, but it also important is helping them to touch the divine Wod”

However, this is not to say I live a life without extraordinary consequences as well Quoted from Here:

Tiwaz: The Rune of Tyr, Justice, and Sacrifice

Tiwaz: The Rune of Tyr, Justice, and Sacrific

“Tiwaz is a warrior rune named after the god Tyr who is the Northern god of law and justice. Tyr is related to the north star in the Anglo-Saxon Rune Poem, around which the fixed stars in the night sky appear to rotate. Ancient seamen used Polaris as their main navigational aid in their long journeys, and the symbol as an arrow pointing upward is perhaps made in reference to this. This symbolizes the positive ordering of the cosmos and humankind through law and justice and our moral compass. Chaos comes to order through the attributes of awakened consciousness and the guiding principles concerned with carrying out such an awakening.

Tyr is a one-handed god with a long history, and his hand was sacrificed to trick the wolf, Fenris, into being chained. Tiwaz is just victory according to the law of accumulated right past action. To rule justly, one is asked to make many self-sacrifices, and Tiwaz can develop the power of positive self-sacrifice and temper over-sacrifice. The belief that courage and a right cause carries the day is governed by Tiwaz. It is the common justice of the people rather than the use of law by tyrants (a word that uses Tyr as a root)

Tiwaz will bring about a correct balancing of the scales so that you are assured a fair hearing and fair decision. Do not be thrown off balance by the chaos of your environment. Like the North star, you must remain true and calm, assert your case with confidence and let the energies of your orlog assisted by the force of Tiwaz bring about a right solution.

Should you need reassurances that there is value in building up positive patterns in advance of emergency, this is the time you will see its greatest manifestation. You have earned the right to a fair and just decision. Tiwaz will be used to bring fair distribution of the earned energies from your ancestral stream.

Tiwaz can be used to bring about a missionary zeal for a righteous cause. The most powerful insight we can draw from Tiwaz is that we must target our energies in the single most correct place, just as the arrow or spear symbolized by the rune must. Call upon Tiwaz for justice.”

Huginn: "Thought"  The moon is patterned from Al-Hambra Palace, Spain where I spent a semester learning history abroad.

Huginn: “Thought”
The moon is patterned from Al-Hambra Palace, Spain where I spent a semester learning history abroad.

But Despite all the above my first guidance has been Ornithomancy over intelligence:

Muninn: "Memory" Like Odin, thoughts never leave, but memory is transient.

Muninn: “Memory”
Like Odin, thoughts never leave, but memory is transient.

Huginn has been with me since I was 19 years old- this is his most recent incarnation on my back after many trials, artists, touch ups. “Stand Fast” was a gift to remind myself that I saved the child of my ex-fiancee from a childhood like the one I lived through- with extraordinary sacrifice and trust in the Divine to do the right thing.

Muginn was a gift from my current fiancee and both together show a duel nature of my belief systems.  The artists of most of this work was created at KS Tattoo in Laureldale, Pennsylvania.

And so, back to the beginning-  I have been accused, slandered, tortured, gaslit, abandoned, and despised.   I have been loved, followed, adored, cherished, and held on pedestals far too high.  There are times where I am not a person, but an object or simplified to a statement- usually negative.  I am an individual among a society desperate for the approval of most- the way we contort ourselves, our minds, bodies, with paints, surgeries, affects, and meaningless unoffensive words to keep up the status quo.

The  “ideal” person doesn’t wear their history on their body, marking each landmark, scar, achievement, and failing- that is only for those without class- Class keeps things behind closed and locked doors- as they beg for silence against the untempered knocking and avalanches behind closed doors.   Plastic surgery brings one closer to an “ideal”- a tattoo is simply another way to make a scar beautiful, but it also challenges decades worth of societal class distinctions; the barbarian, the soldier, the unemployable, the criminal, the feared, and the blue collared are tattoo’d to the elder generations.

My generation and our avant gardes challenge you, and you do not like us.   We challenge you with our existence, with our lack of ties and pantyhose,    We challenge our society…but not in any substantial way that ever makes the news or changes much of anything- except bringing us our own pain for our trouble of trying.

With me it’s open.  Everything.   I learned early I can not afford secrets with a memory that cannot be relied upon…. if you live dictated by intuition, heart, and intellect rather than conventional means- truth quickly becomes stranger than fiction anyhow and far more interesting than any “story” or lie.

I wear ink to tell my stories…  I have lived through chaos and survived.   I have looked death in the eyes time and again and was refused for whatever reason: repeatedly.  So, for better or worse you are stuck with me for now.  My Fiancee speaks to the Gods who have refused me more times than any 31 year old should be able to count- by chance or deliberate intentions.

I am going to continue to live my life with or without your approval- but I will continue in this process to be wounded, tested, absolved, accused, loved, and despised.   I refuse to compromise my integrity.  I refuse to politely lie to save your comfort.    I fear burlap sacks, being trapped, and FEMA coffins.  I fear I will never see Tehran in one piece and can’t watch the news- when all I see are lies and can smell the scent of war as cleanly as any black-feathered bird.   I fear for my friends in fatigues regardless on which side they fight for- and I am angered at corporate interests puppet governments, complacent people, and the lack of critical thought, lack of questioning, and although I understand it, I also resent the “Status Quo”.

By nature, I realize I am Hagalaz…..wherever I go, I am different, therefore, I bring change if I mean to or not.   However, that doesn’t mean I have to like it.   All in all, I’m actually rather self-loathing where my life consist of a scale where the harm/burden I generate is ever being weighed against the good I am able to accomplish. With those scales is a clock; according to research, my time is 15 years or less as per the law of averages.

Does the Jackal hold the scales for this fox?  No.  Instead, there is an ancestral man with half a face- his eye lost to his love of knowledge, his sanity given for mysteries and mysticism- and as I marked as being a scion of both his blood-brother and one-handed predecessor, He has my first Oath….and only the Gods and the clever know where my second oath remains, indelible, spoken in a city of spies and under a pentagram flag.

Messrs C. S. Lewis, Gibran, Watts, and Molavi,….perhaps one day I could write as beautifully as you and explain it so cleanly, but I need to bypass Time which is stagnant and my fears, inhibitions, and insecurities which are not.

Regret Nothing:


4 Responses to “Ch-ch-ch-changes…why I hate Hagalaz”

  1. great site Says:

    Thank you for any other fantastic article. The place else may just anybody get that type of information in such a perfect means of writing?

    I’ve a presentation next week, and I’m at the look for such info.

    • Can you be slightly more specific? I covered a lot of material in this post, but I would be happy to help in any way I can.

  2. try not to be so down about life, its a beautiful thing, no matter how far you’ve gone with it. i sense much bitterness in you, and this will eat your soul, if there is such a thing.

    • I do my best- but everyone has their “off” or “down” days. I actually have C-PTSD- so bitterness is apart of the package at times. I do not fear my soul being “eaten”- I have lived a rough enough life that the fact that I still manage compassion is a success in that regard.

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