Stories From Northern Myths

Book: Stories From Northern Myths by Emilie Kip Baker

"Stories From Northern Myth" written in 1914 by Emilie Kip Baker. Most of the existing records on Norse Mythology date from the 11th to 18th century, having gone through more than two centuries of oral preservation in what was at least officially a Christian society. At this point scholars started recording it, particularly in the Eddas and the Heimskringla by Snorri Sturluson, who believed that pre-Christian deities trace real historical people. There is also the Danish Gesta Danorum by Saxo Grammaticus, where the Norse gods are more strongly Euhemerized. The Prose or Younger Edda was written in the early 13th century by Snorri Sturluson, who was a leading skald, chieftain, and diplomat in Iceland. It may be thought of primarily as a handbook for aspiring skalds. It contains prose explications of traditional "kennings," or compressed metaphors found in poetry. These prose retellings make the various tales of the Norse gods systematic and coherent.

The mythological literature relates the legends of heroes and kings, as well as supernatural creatures. These clan and kingdom founding figures possessed great importance as illustrations of proper action or national origins. The heroic literature may have fulfilled the same function as the national epic in other European literatures, or it may have been more nearly related to tribal identity. Many of the legendary figures probably existed, and generations of Scandinavian scholars have tried to extract history from myth in the sagas.

Sometimes the same hero resurfaces in several forms depending on which part of the Germanic world the epics survived such as Weyland/Volund and Siegfried/Sigurd, and probably Beowulf/Bodvar Bjarki. Other notable heroes are Hagbard, Starkad, Ragnar Lodbrok, Sigurd Ring, Ivar Vidfamne and Harald Hildetand. Notable are also the shieldmaidens who were ordinary women who had chosen the path of the warrior. These women function both as heroines and as obstacles to the heroic journey.

Download Emilie Kip Baker's eBook: Stories From Northern Myths

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The Shepherd

"How sweet is the shepherd’s sweet lot!
From the morn to the evening he strays;
He shall follow his sheep all the day,
And his tongue shall be filled with praise.

For he hears the lambs’ innocent call,
And he hears the ewes’ tender reply;
He is watchful while they are in peace,
For they know when their shepherd is nigh."

by William Blake

Keywords: odin volsunga saga  corrections reprint  portable magic tool  witchcraft south  anthology oral histories  devil feminine soul  asgard tales northern  recommended heathen  

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The Triple Fool By John Donne

I am two fools, I know,
For loving, and for saying so
In whining poetry ;
But where's that wise man, that would not be I,
If she would not deny ?
Then as th' earth's inward narrow crooked lanes
Do purge sea water's fretful salt away,
I thought, if I could draw my pains
Through rhyme's vexation, I should them allay.
Grief brought to numbers cannot be so fierce,
For he tames it, that fetters it in verse.

But when I have done so,
Some man, his art and voice to show,
Doth set and sing my pain ;
And, by delighting many, frees again
Grief, which verse did restrain.
To love and grief tribute of verse belongs,
But not of such as pleases when 'tis read.
Both are increased by such songs,
For both their triumphs so are published,
And I, which was two fools, do so grow three.
Who are a little wise, the best fools be.

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The Comet

So well with word
the seducers voice was heard
o'er the whisper of the linen.

"And so,' said she,
'Let us e'er be
skyclad 'neath the Heavens".

"Dance with me sweet Temptress.
Let our limbs entwine
upon this bed so downy soft.
'Tis ours, not yours or mine.
Of what I speak
there is no Telling
For it is ever as it is not.
We have one place yet
for our dwelling
never found, yet always sought."

And so with eyes aglow
with Midnight
and a smile handsomely done,
The seducer lifted one fond finger.
Touched her breast with one fond finger.
And shuddering,
near undone,
the lady asked:

"What is it that you speak of love?
What have you and I?
Are we not here to live
and couple 'neath th' inky sky?"

Slowly tracing circles
as his mouth found hers to dine,
the lover whispered tenderly,
"We have an aeon of time."

"Say it is not true!' cried she,
'Say it is not so!
An aeon is so little
and we have so far to go!"

He held his distraught lady.
Brought his mouth down to her lips
and they touched at face and belly,
from shoulder down to hip.

"Alas it is so little,
But far more than many men
have in their meager lifetimes
and so lady, we shall begin."

Close became then closer
'til there was no light to be seen
'tween their naked bodies
flaming liquid sheen.

Upon the deepest darkest night
cast eye to the sky above
and see racing 'cross the heavens high
two lovers burning with their love.

Authored and contributed by Toadie

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Lyra

Lyra
In her bubble
Dances near me now

Tiny seer
You never wobble
As you dance the Tao

Rainbow Fire
Like the Maple
And the Oak Tree, too

Flumes your Air
Suppley
Beauty! Wow!

(Us little people gotta stick together even at a distance...maybe better at a distance )

Hugh Read

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Sweet Bell Of The Garden

"Sssssh," mother's teaching now
And She's wearing the face of a child
Moonfaced self sure maiden
Not quite wild

She's bearing snails and centipedes
She's laughing in the sun
She's Walking in the lowlands now
And She's only just begun

She's singing in the cricket's song
She's dancing in the dew
She's come, Sweet Bell of the Garden
To enchant you.

-Merry- June 5, 1995

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The Cloud Sculptors

by Staeorra Rokraven

The air finds flight in forms of lofty wind
As one with nature's Children taking part
And soaring up to go and find a friend
Then join with water spinning wispy art.

This nature's Process has eternal known
The way to hang up on the sky these drapes
But wonder not how these soft clouds have grown
From fleecy strand filled webs to take their shapes?

Perhaps the artist's brush a thing unseen
With Living tools the Elder Gods express
Those firey ones whose scales and talons gleam
To grace the heavens with their soft caress.

Now see the strokes of carving wings along
With falling rain - the strains of Dragon song.

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Hymn To Pan

Book: Hymn To Pan by Aleister Crowley

HYMN TO PAN: This poem, Together With extracts from the Book of the Law and the Collects from the Gnostic Mass formed the Last Ritual at aleister crowley at his funeral in Brighton on December 5th, 1947.

Download Aleister Crowley's eBook: Hymn To Pan

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Pandemonium

Hi, ho, it's Spring again,
Out of my eye's corner
I Thought I saw the Horned Man, the Green Man
Charging down the glen,

It was not Pan,
I did not get that freezing in the bone,
Half fear, half ecstacy.
Perhaps I was mistook,
And only wished I saw,

And maybe Pan is playing in a rock band,
Traveling in a wave of liquorous riot,
George 'Something' and the Destroyers

Sonia Brock

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Sacred Trees

Sacred trees
You among all creation deserve high honor.
For all your long life your arms you raise,
Heaven-ward in endless praise,
Leaves upturned to the sun,
To the face of the God of Life.

Sacred trees
You among all creation deserve love.
You give of yourself freely, as laden branches bend.
You give of yourself completely, your fruit, your wood; your end
Becomes a new Beginning
As you return your gift of life
And once again to the body of Mother Earth.

Sacred trees
You among all creation deserve sanctification.
Giving of yourself, from without and within
You sow no hate, you make no sin
You give to us the breath of life, even as you die.
Pray we too, learn to live as trees.

Raven Le May '95

Raven is a woman of spirit living in Ohio, who describes her Spirituality as having a Pagan Heart and a Catholic soul. She is publishing a book of her poems in the near future. Copyright (c) 1995 belongs to the author.

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The Abyss And Tabaet A Study Of Adversarial Mythology In Magick

Book: The Abyss And Tabaet A Study Of Adversarial Mythology In Magick by Michael Ford

The purpose of the following essay is to not only examine masks worn by the fallen angels throughout history as well as to examine the etymology of the spirit of self-liberation and opposition from the praxis of occult thought. The very passing of power in the Circle of Witchcraft And Sorcery is the averse way of bringing into union Daemon and Man, the intent of the Adversary is life and the Immortality of the spirit. As “Luciferian Witchcraft” and “Liber HVHI” provide a foundation of sorcery which incorporates an interwoven praxis of Antinomianism and self-deification, the essential origins of the Daemonic Feminine and Masculine should be further understood by its origins.

What is regarded as common knowledge depicts that the Luciferian spirit, what is found are the associative traits and that the Adversary has existed long before Christianity. The Avestan texts as well as the Denkard provide a wealth of knowledge of Ahriman from a right hand path point of view, consider as such a veil which can only be passed through by the Great Work of initiation.

The names and cultural expressions of the Adversary are briefly explored as an introduction, from the ancient Persian, Hebraic and even Norse, the Adversary appears in each. As tempter, war maker, wisdom bringer and devouring predatory spirit. Look to the common aspects which make the Opposer as a force of initiation.

Lucifer/Ahriman/Samael is a spirit which is made viable through the Adept his/herself, this force is expressive of the individual, thus each manifestation unique as the initiate in question.

Download Michael Ford's eBook: The Abyss And Tabaet A Study Of Adversarial Mythology In Magick

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Household Gods Comedy

Book: Household Gods Comedy by Aleister Crowley

"The Household," a one-act Comedy that makes readers roar With laughter, is eaxctly one of those masterpieces by This important Bristish writer that needs to be rediscovered by contemporary readers.

Download Aleister Crowley's eBook: Household Gods Comedy

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The Moonpool

It is a lazy, restful time
here in the forest glade.
The sun is departing, the stars arriving
and the trees are a darkening jade.

An air of buzzing, drowsing stillness
invades the meadow, lends weight to my head
as I settle down - bedroll, backpack
and strains of music are seemingly played.

A deep, cool, dark pool is here,
mirror clear, reflections of skies,
as peace fills my mind, my soul
and sleep gently touches my eyes.

I know not whether I was awake, or in dream
or how much time had passed,
when I felt the magic of this place
camped there, upon the grass.

No sounds - no crickets? (The Music!)
As the Moon awakens the pool, so bright.
Why this anticipation, premonition,
this magical feeling, this ghost haunted night?

Then, a siamese cat enters the meadow-
silver grey, regal compusure, flowing lines.
And somehow I know - I see intelligence
and wit, and power, as she looks into my eyes.

How does she speak without speaking?
But somehow, she communicates good will, and cheer.
'Stay quiet, childe of man.', she says.
'Be still - you are but a guest here.'

Then a parade of feline musicians
wandered in singing from the right.
I shake my head *bedazzled*; Am I dreaming, or mad?
Why me - here to witness this eldritch sight?
A troupe of dancing, cavorting gnomes
made their appearence upon a rocky stage.
And following them : silver clad, haughty elves
accompanied by a wizened old mage.

Now, many strange but noble presences made manifest
on that starlit night in June.
And I witnessed and heard sweet music, high magic, secrets
until dawn, with the passing of the Moon.

And the high bred Queen of Cat Folk
smiled with warmth, and left.
Left me shaking with these visions,
and nodding, I finally slept.

I return often to these stately woods, seeking
but never finding the sacred pool, so bright.
It makes me sad - very sad to think
that it was but a dream, a peculiar night.

But sometimes, at the edge of sleep,
soft music slowly beckons, and calls.
And I know with every fiber of my being
that I will again visit these magical sylvan halls

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An Essay In Ontology With Some Remarks On Ceremonial Magic

Book: An Essay In Ontology With Some Remarks On Ceremonial Magic by Aleister Crowley

In presenting this theory of the Universe to the world, I have but one hope of making any profound impression, viz.-that my theory has the merit of explaining the divergences between the three great forms of religion now existing in the world-Buddhism, Hinduism and Christianity, and of adapting them to ontological science by conclusions not mystical but mathematical.

Of Mohammedism I shall not now treat, as, in whatever light we may decide to regard it (and its esoteric schools are often orthodox), in any case it must fall under one of the three heads of Nihilism, Advaitism, and Dvaitism. Taking the ordinary hypothesis of the universe, that of its infinity, or at any rate that of the infinity of God, or of the infinity of some substance or idea actually existing, we first come to the question of the possibility of the co-existence of God and man.

Download Aleister Crowley's eBook: An Essay In Ontology With Some Remarks On Ceremonial Magic

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Self Discovery

(Self) Discovery

In layers Comes the delight
of my discoveries.
When pretenses are peeled back,
exposing the new and fresh
and underneath another facet
of the diamond.
Each face showing Something novel
and as yet untapped
in endless boundless bounding joy.

Contributed and authored by Moontoadie

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Snow

Goddess is beautiful dressed in white
The tiny white crystals that fall through the night
They fall so gentle, don't make a sound
As they drift to Earth and lay on the ground

Looking up, snow melts on my face
as I leave behind the hectic pace
I'm in another world, one of love
communing with the Goddess above

Drawing the power from all around me
one with Her, I truely wish to be
This is the quest for which I strive
It is my reason for being alive

Standing alone, staring at the sky
I feel a tear coming to my eye
The feeling of peace is awesome you see
I feel the Goddess surrounding me

(C) 1989 - Steve Earl

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Echoes From The Gnosis Vol X The Hymn Of The Robe Of Glory

Book: Echoes From The Gnosis Vol X The Hymn Of The Robe Of Glory by George Robert Stowe Mead

The Hymn of the robe of glory is also known as the Hymn of the pearl and belongs to the Acts of Thomas, which were written in Edessa around 225. The hymn narrates how a prince encounters the ‘robe’ which he had left behind ‘at home’ (in heaven):

At once, as soon as I saw it,
The Glory looked like my own self.

The idea of the mirror image as a spiritual double can also be found in Mani, and in the Gospel of Thomas (logos 84), part of the Nag Hammadi discovery of 1945:

When you see your likeness you rejoice.
But when you see your images
which came into being before you,
and which neither die nor become manifest,
how much you will have to bear!

Echoes from the Gnosis(1906) is a series of monographs under the title Echoes from the Gnosis (recently republished in a centennial edition) summarizing his insights into the formation of the Gnostic world-view. By this time Mead had published eight works on various aspects of the early Christian world and on “The Theosophy of the Greeks.” Together with his outstanding translations of the Hermetic books, these works established his reputation as one of the foremost English scholars in his broadly chosen fields. Mead was the first modern scholar of Gnostic tradition. A century later, the corpus of his work remains unequaled in breadth and insight.

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Riding The Black Horse

(By: Holly Solt)

While visiting the stars by the dark lake last night
I was sitting on a rock that was bathed in pale moonlight

Along the rocky shore did I see a running child
who stopped where I was seat, said "hallo..." and then smiled

He asked if I believed in fairy folk, did I...
I answered him "of course" and he winked his little eye

He asked me if I ever talked to one, somehow
I leaned forward and whispered "you mean, before just now?"

Then a foggy mist rolled in and covered up the shore
covered up the sky till I could see no more

I heard the horse's breathing as it raced across the sand
and it scared me something awful when someone grabbed my hand

and pulled me high upon the horse as it passed my sitting place
while wind blew fast and cold and damp as if we were running a race

then we stopped and I looked up and saw a mountain's wall
the fog did lift, I turned and looked and saw a man so tall

His hair and beard were colored all red like sunset's skies
and springtime's green of new born leaves were the color of his eyes

He pointed at the mountain & said, "make you not a sound,
while the black horse takes us safely to a more familiar ground"

Then, we walked right through that mountain! As is there were no wall
And once inside was blackness, no sound...no light...at all

I could barely take a breath, I was blind and could not see
was like a blanket of nothing had wrapped itself round me

Then, the most amazing thing, the most amazing sight
we walked out of that mountain into a land of light

I blinked my eyes and squinted the colors were so bright
it confused my very senses was this not still night?

We slid off of the horse and it slowly walked away
then there were many things that the sunset man did say...

I remember seeing children of all the different races
I remember there was love in all the people's faces

I could choose to be alone with the colors everywhere
If I did not understand a thing, the sunset man was there

I woke up in the morning at first a little mad
when I realized it all was just a dream I had

But then I got to thinking of the horse and of the light
and the sunset man who's taken me to see them in the night

and I figured it was something, that I was supposed to tell
otherwise, I wouldn't have remembered it so well

So, do not fear the mountains...and do not fear the night...
Sometimes we walk through darkness, before we see the light.

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The Goddess Is Alive

Moon shines down upon a sea of Light,
Shifting sands lay singing in the Heart of the Night.
I looked upon a scene that gripped me to the core,
White-clad maidens below were dancing on the shore.

Sweet sounds slipped from moon-lit throats,
Wind whipped hair abound,
Lit by the light within and without,
The Women circled 'round.

As I stood, water engulfed my feet,
My body swayed to your Heavenly Heart beat.
Wind and wave and fire light,
Paled in my mind Earthly delight.

Time slipped by me as you held your embrace,
And windblown spray covered my face.
Protected deep within your Womb,
I could feel the tender pain of Life's bloom.

Candles flared high as the Dance progressed,
Deep inside with a healing touch you blessed.
All around, wind, wave and fire shouted of your life,
Your light speared deep within, soothing my strife.

Divine Mother, Goddess of Light,
To you I come seeking protection from the night.
Come home to shelter within your arm,
Surrounded by Love, hidden from harm.

Holy Mother, Queen of Heaven and Earth,
From you we all trace our Birth.
Heavenly Goddess, light from above,
Shine down upon us, we pray for your Love.

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A Tree Song

by Rudyard Kipling

Of all the trees that grow so fair,
Old England to adorn,
Greater is none beneath the sun,
Than Oak, and Ash, and Thorn.
Sing Oak, and Ash, and Thorn, good sirs,
(All of a Midsummer morn!)
Surely we sing of no little thing,
In Oak, and Ash, and Thorn!

Oak of the Clay lived many a day,
Or ever Aeneas began.
Ash of the Loam was a Lady at home,
When Brut was an outlaw man.
Thorn of the Down saw New Troy Town
(From which was London born);
Witness hereby the ancientry
Of Oak, and Ash, and Thorn!

Yew that is old in churchyard-mould,
He breedeth a mighty bow.
Alder for shoes do wise men choose,
And beech for cups also.
But when ye have killed, and your bowl is spilled,
And your shoes are clean outworn,
Back ye must speed for all that ye need,
To Oak, and Ash, and Thorn!

Ellum she hateth mankind, and waiteth
Till every gust be laid,
To drop a limb on the head of him
That any way trusts her shade.
But whether a lad be sober or sad,
Or mellow with wine from the horn,
He will take no wrong when he lieth along
'Neath Oak, and Ash, and Thorn!
Oh, do not tell the priest our plight,
Or he would call it a sin;
But--we have been out in the woods all night,
A-conjuring Summer in!
And we bring you good news by word of mouth --
Good news for cattle and corn --
Now is the Sun come up from the south,
With Oak, and Ash, and Thorn!

Sing Oak, and Ash, and Thorn, good sirs
(All of a Midsummer morn)!
England shall bide till Judgement Tide,
By Oak, and Ash, and Thorn!

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