PresentDayPagan

Fourth installment in The Gods Today inspired by @tricksterinthehedges. I haven’t spent much time with Odin, but since I started he’s been forcing inspiration at me. I promised him he’d be next. 

Fascist assholes need not reblog.

Odin is found, perhaps, most frequently in college towns. A old wooden bench with a softened and paint worn seat he has lounged in since colleges began is where to find him when the sun is out and a cool breeze stirs the shimmering leaves above his head. A large coffee thermos cradled in his gnarled and calloused hands. A running commentary from students is that he’s laced his drink with alcohol. It’s actually just hot chocolate. Odin doesn’t begrudge himself simple pleasures.

No one really knows who he is. Some are convinced he’s a current professor. They know they’ve seen him teach a class. Others think he’s really a student. They’ve seen his hunched shoulders and caffeine-crazed gaze at 3:00 AM in the library during finals. A few shrug him off as a local homeless guy trying to bum something, or maybe he thinks college kids are the best market to sell to. The professors who have been around for many years know the power that thrums the air around him. They’ve seen his aging face as the years pass by never change. A couple remember him from their time as a student. They accept his presence with an awed and fearful appreciation. The administrators refuse to see his existence, or perhaps they really can’t see him.

Some students wander over to him. They sit and they ponder. They discuss and they question. They are drawn in by his great stories, and a boundless wisdom that always thirsts for more. He’s great to argue with and test your understanding. He always knows how to push, poke, and prod you into the uncomfort of the vastness of knowledge. He who appears a grumpy old man who would swear off all modern contraptions is in fact enamored by them. He devours the latest technology. He offers help on your international politics essay in exchange for teaching him about the newest app he keeps hearing about. Students joke that they keep him around for the laughs, but really he’s great to vent to.

Others nod hello. They respect his presence, and appreciate the status and steadfastness he brings to the campus. But, his eye stares for too long, too knowingly. They fear stepping closer will throw their understanding to chaos.

Frequently, his words are a lot more conservative than his stories, experiences, and advice would leave someone to believe. A war for understanding still manages to persist within him even after it all.

If he is not on a campus, Odin walks through museums. He knows their hallowed halls by memory. He knows the treasures that hide deep in the vaults, and the treasures that lie in the minds of patrons who visit with wide-eyes and thirsting minds.

His greatest mission is to seek out the student with glazed eyes, the one who searches for nothing in this place because they feel there is nothing to find. He stands next to them, hands deep in his pocket, eye hard and studying. He slips in a knot of curiosity and a thirst for more.

He volunteers to lead the occasional tour, but his favorite is tagging along in the back to search out something new. Whether it be a loop around a building preserving artifacts or a romp through a rain drenched city, he drinks it all in. A small sketchbook in his back pocket records all his notes and revelations. A quick, hasty scrawl of a man whose hands can’t keep up with his mind. Sketches and impressions of the movement and progress of life that swirls around him.

He’s subscribed to every journal and magazine, staying on top of all the latest research and studies. His house is filled with stacks of them. His walls hold no decorations but those of books. It holds no order; no filing system can be discerned. It simply exists as a testament to knowledge and the strive to reach for more. It is an attempt to fill the void in human understanding.

Libraries are his sacred spaces. He knows the need for them and defends them. He pushes for their presence and helps to make them thrive. He knows the moment they are gone is the moment humanity has executed itself.

Occasionally, he’ll fill a few cardboard boxes with his most prized novels and bring them to a school whose funds lack - where they’re lucky if there is enough money left to upkeep the building. Odin stuffs the shelves, breathing life back into a space where knowledge had been forced to remain stagnant. He holds a book fair and a science fair. He demonstrates the fascination and wonder that is out in the universe. He plants the kernel of desire in their hearts and in their heads. He manages a grant or two for a new computer lab and textbooks.

Every evening, he carries a warm crockpot filled with a new dish he experimented with to a cold basement. He sets it on the table filled with snacks and drinks. Plastic trays of store bought cookies. Veggie platters. Ten half-eaten bags of chips and three different kinds of salsa. Styrofoam cups filled with black coffee and water. Very little reminiscent of a home-cooked meal. He fills up a bowl for each person at the meeting and demands everyone eats some before they begin.

So I was inspired to further @tricksterinthehedges​‘s post. I hope to slowly work my way through as I spend time working with the gods, researching, and meditating. There’s not really any order outside of who strikes inspiration when.

Sometimes she can be found in various male dominant jobs. A cop. A lawyer. A soldier. A social justice worker. A body guard. The latter is her favorite. Bars and strip clubs are her domain and she will fight to protect it and those inside.

To loyal, respectful patrons and the newcomers who are shy, unsure, and worried, she is considerate and makes sure they enjoy their time. To those who work for her, especially the girls, she demands respect for. There are rules to keep them safe, and all will follow them. She loves her girls. She validates their work. She fights to empower them and let them set their limits and define what their work is and means to them, and she makes sure everyone respects their boundaries. She’s known to give the best bonuses to struggling single-moms, and has put more than one kid’s through college.

Before opening, she can be found in the back helping workers with their make-up, wiping the bar down, doing inventory, and making sure the lighting and sound system are set up just right. The ambiance alone is magic; and she prides herself in the design.

Everyone knows the last dance is reserved for Freyja.

Sex workers know to keep around her. She gives them protection. She helps keep them safe from the scorn of those who spew vitriolic insults their way and those who’ve hired them who don’t understand boundaries and what’s acceptable.

She demands that expressions of female sexuality centers on empowering them first. 

She’s also known to keep the creeps away from women in the gym.

Any free time she gets is devoted to Planned Parenthood and women’s health - whether that health requires a mammogram, a pap-smear, or HRT - she demands for it to be affordable and for it to be available and for it to be quality.

Freyja’s not always the best at handling nay-sayers and protesters, though. Her tactics tend to fall back on hollering and intimidating. Her passion and fury both inspire, make change, and create setbacks. Each time she finds herself staring at the ceiling of a holding cell because she got taken in for excessive force and disturbing the peace, she swears that next time she will keep a calm head. Next time she will destroy her opponents with words: well-crafted arguments and facts that leave no room for her opponent to take ground.

She gets a bit further next time, but the senator had it coming.

Occasionally you can find her and Freyr at Drag Shows, helping with make-up and keeping the crowd safe and respectable. She fiercely battles and dons on war paint every Pride as she walks alongside her brother.

The local animal shelter and hospital frequently receive donations: toys, money, and food. They never know who it’s from; it’s always anonymous. Some of the younger girls who volunteer are pretty sure it’s the badass warrior woman they secretly believe to be either a spy or superhero is the one behind it. She comes every Friday at 3 to stroll through the shelter before spending an hour with the cats, being sure to play with each one. Everyone is amazed when she manages to calm even the oldest and grouchiest of cats. The scarred and ragged 12 year old cat who has been determined feral and has been through more abuse than any animal deserves and refuses the touch or help of anyone. She manages to get him purring and walks away having adopted him. He is a fighter for respect; what’s not given is demanded. They see that quality in each other.

Perhaps most unfamiliar is battle wearied Freyja. Wrinkles crinkle her skin. Her hair has frosted streaks. On another they may give a weak appearance; on her they signal strength and endurance. She retreats to the coast to visit with her father. His warmth and guidance much needed and hard sought. She curls her toes in the sand and feels the salty air scrape her skin. Every now and then Freyr joins her. They lay together, hands clasped, watching the dawning of stars as they try to make sense and find reprieve in the never ending toss and tumble. This is their time for whispered secrets of doubt and insecurities. They find strength in each other’s pulse and their father’s rough hand gently combing through their hair.

She then retreats to her house: a modest place with a thriving garden compliments of her brother and her own nurturing hand. She curls up on her sofa; her fellow fighter worming his way onto her lap, purring words of comfort and assurance. The other, a young calico with enough energy to power the sun, recognizes it’s time to be quiet now and stands vigil during his Lady’s show of vulnerability.

Tomorrow she will begin again. Fighting for equality. Fighting for women. Fighting for all to see their self-worth. Fight for healthcare, comprehensive sex-ed, contraceptives, respect for sex workers and freedom of choice.

Fighting.

Technically, there is no way to empirically prove this stuff. There comes a point where you just have to take it on faith. But there are a number of ways you can examine whether the entity you’re dealing with is acting in good faith and in a way consistent with Loki. The following links might be useful:

Identifying and Interacting With Unknown Entities

Discernment

Questions to Ask Yourself

When Godphones Ring – Discernment for Pagans

Discernment – Is it a sign?

Not Everything is a Sign

Evaluating Mystical Experiences and Messages From Beyond

A Note on Discernment: Hearing Your Own Voice

Divine Communication, Ethics, and Manipulation Techniques

Your God is on the phone. He has a message for you.

Polytheism While Dealing With Mental Illness

Our discernment tag

Yeah, that’s a lot of stuff. This is because everyone has different opinions on what constitutes satisfactory evidence, and I would be doing a disservice to you by promoting my own as the only valid one. When it comes to discernment, more info is almost always better.

Technically, there is no way to empirically prove this stuff. There comes a point where you just have to take it on faith. But there are a number of ways you can examine whether the entity you’re dealing with is acting in good faith and in a way consistent with Loki. The following links might be useful:

Identifying and Interacting With Unknown Entities

Discernment

Questions to Ask Yourself

When Godphones Ring – Discernment for Pagans

Discernment – Is it a sign?

Not Everything is a Sign

Evaluating Mystical Experiences and Messages From Beyond

A Note on Discernment: Hearing Your Own Voice

Divine Communication, Ethics, and Manipulation Techniques

Your God is on the phone. He has a message for you.

Polytheism While Dealing With Mental Illness

Our discernment tag

Yeah, that’s a lot of stuff. This is because everyone has different opinions on what constitutes satisfactory evidence, and I would be doing a disservice to you by promoting my own as the only valid one. When it comes to discernment, more info is almost always better.

This is a fun one. It’s also a big one. The question is - what do werewolves look like, anyway?

Depending on who you ask (and when you ask, and WHERE you ask), you’ll get a lot of different answers.

Werewolves come in three major types, in terms of appearance…

Wolf-Men

A 1512 woodcut of a werewolf attack, by Lucas Cranach der Ältere

Yep, you got it, we’re talking the traditional wolf-man look! That was a thing in legends, too, not just Hollywood. Where, you ask? Various places - but probably especially Germany and France (both of which were overflowing with werewolves, anyway).

Some werewolves turned into basically just hairy guys with big, sharp teeth and long, sharp claws. Did they always have a nasty demeanor and eat kids like the one in the woodcut? No, not really. Were some of them berserkers? Well - yeah, probably!

Man-Wolves

A 19th-century engraving depicting a werewolf unhurt by weapons commonly used against vampires

Believe it or not, there’s a gracious plenty of folkloric basis for the concept of a “man-wolf” (as they are sometimes called). That is to say, a werewolf with the head, fur, tail, and legs of a wolf, but the torso, arms, and hands of a man. That means, of course, they still come equipped with claws.

These appeared almost everywhere around the world, much like the last appearance category. But they were probably still most common in regions of Europe, especially Germany, France, Italy, and Eastern Europe.

You’ll see variations of these around in media today, too, of course. And plenty of them are great.

Granted, they occasionally lack tails (for some reason…) and often - these days - have absurd-looking ears for no apparent reason, and/or lack fur, but that doesn’t always detract from how awesome they are. You know… as long as they still look remotely like wolves, which I can’t say that all of them do.

Wolves

An illumination from Topographia Hiberniae of a priest meeting two good werewolves (I’ll be posting about this story later!)

That’s right - just wolves. Usually very, very big wolves, but sometimes just normal-sized wolves, too.

This was common just about everywhere. It can’t really be pinpointed to any particular regions - or even continents.

I’ve had a lot of people tell me, “The werewolves in Twilight are so stupid, they just turn into wolves!”

Sorry, everyone, but any opinions and nitpicky details regarding the lore of Twilight and its werewolves (and not-werewolves; remember, Meyer later retconned that Jacob and his pack aren’t even technically werewolves) aside, werewolves have turned into just wolves perhaps more often than any other form they take.

Simple post for such a big topic? Maybe. But I’m going to be covering a lot of these legends individually, so you’ll get to hear what the werewolves look like in each. Or, if you have any specific questions in regard to this stuff, just shoot me an ask!

I can say, though, that the order of how often these appearance archetypes showed up in folklore would be ranked like this:

Wolves

Man-Wolves

Wolf-Men (by far the least)

Any other werewolf appearances are just pop culture things again. Oh, and yes - werewolves in folklore always had fur (lots of fur!), and claws and fangs, and definitely tails.

Vocalizations include wolf vocalizations, often plus some. Werewolves, of course, also howl, which pop culture werewolves today often seem to have something against doing (absurdly, as the howl is the signature and truly unique sound of the wolf). And for the record, werewolves do not bark, so please stop those jokes before you get mauled.

(Wolves don’t bark, either. When they do bark, it sounds very different from domestic dog barks, very short and rough, never continuously, and is almost always combined with and/or comparable to another sound. Wolves use more complex communication than barking; they howl, grunt, huff, etc., instead. So, video games, you can stop making wolves bark at literally everything.)

Pop quiz!

How do you tell a werewolf from a witch with a wolf disguise?

What do Loki+Horse jokes and Idunn have in common?

Frigga: No, don’t!

Thor: I’ll save you brother!

Tales from Norse Mythology

The Prose Edda

Beowulf

The Poetic (elder) Edda