To paraphrase a spring song.
Autumn is a cliché, a drab old hat.
A bucket of kitch.
But who cares about that?

To paraphrase a spring song.
Autumn is a cliché, a drab old hat.
A bucket of kitch.
But who cares about that?
First snow in Grorud 🇳🇴 and I just finished a poem about skiing ⛷️ that's not a coincidence, is it?
Your poetry impacts the weather? I hear you ask. But for what? Helping the hrímþursar, the frost giants? Is that even legal? 🤔
In children's play, in ritual and in the theatre the invisible becomes visible, like the shroom sprouting from the hidden mycelium. Its web of urðr.
"Esotericism is all about knowledge. Its true concern is not with information or technical explanations but with the deeper quest for understanding what reality is all about."
Just a small dog person in a bunch of autumn leaves 🐾
Oðinn learned magic from the cunning jötnar. The dangerous forces of illusion. The original
#trolls
But then, suddenly, for no apparent reason, (a 1000 years ago), waking up supernatural dead people in the woods became a crime! 🙄
October postcard from our sacred river Alna (survivor of industrial abuse):
Water always finds a way and living trees are stronger than rock people!
💪🌳♥️
He's a gentle dragon. If you say, in passing, it's only a hole in a tree, he'll be alright with it, but if you stop and poke his eye, he's gonna bite your head off (probably) 🤪
🌳 Respect the #guardians of your neighbourhood! 🌳
✨️Bring sacrifice! (Beer!*)✨️
"Magic stops being irrational superstition and becomes an attempt to work within a living web connecting mind, nature, and the sacred."
Birch and Pine are a happily married couple. They see each other every day and do everything, like posing for photos, together.
Pine loves how Birch turns their leaves yellow in fall and drops them one by one revealing their double nature.
But the pope is practicing liberation theology these days, I objected. And the protestants say there is no hell.
Be careful what you say, he whispered. Here even the rocks have ears. Who knows whom they'll tell.
A poem I just wrote about brother Blackbird 😍
*This hasn't happened (yet). I just think it would be great if Frøydis did in fact exist. Someone more extrovert than me, that could create a new tradition to honour the sacredness of our local river.
"She and Gibson, also a novelist, once dressed up for a party as Odin’s ravens, Thought and Memory. They wore black gloves and fashioned beaks from black construction paper."
#NewAni #NordicAnimism #animism
www.theguardian.com/books/ng-int...
Like the moon, the mushroom doesn't need the sun, but reflects her light, shining in the world of darkness.
His real being, his web of urðr, is hidden in Helheimr.
He crosses the threshold from the unseen to the seen, performing the alchemy of soil
Have you seen those monks building sand mandalas just to destroy them again?
Wait till you see the hat trick of...
✨️✨️🌟The Coprinus Comatus
Theatre Company🌟✨️✨️
A 🧵
📷:Me #animism #NewAni #NordicAnimism #mushrooms
My home is in the boreal forest that stretches across the northern world.
I am sure the trees here know about their burning kin in Canada, and are aware of the precarious situation in Siberia.
Their roots may not touch, but the mist brings news among them
📷:Me #animism #NewAni #NordicAnimism
Our neighbour the maple in the autumn rain.
Every year a slightly different, but perfect, celebration of impermanence
A prayer for protection against the NightMare of collective sleep paralysis
Give us the megin, the power, of the sun, the moon and the stars, o swan footed one of all that is true, good and beautiful, so that we may house your spirit-breath and become triumphant🖼:Me #animism #NewAni #NordicAnimism