Poems anybody;-) - Three thorns of Blackthorn song (in German and English)

Drei Dornen Schwarzdorn

Sie haben Dich beobachtet,
Sie haben Dich geseh´n...
Auf dem Hügel alt,
Wo kalte Winde weh´n.

Die Haare offen,
Die Füße bloß,
So tanztest Du
Auf der Erde warmem Schoß.

Sie haben Dich beobachtet,
Sie haben Dich geseh´n,
Auf dem Hügel alt,
Wo kalt die Winde weh ´n.

Die Erde leidet
Unter ihrem Schritt,
Sie gehen unter
Und reißen alles mit.

In ihren Garten säen sie
Eine Saat aus Blei,
Und sie töten alles,
Was noch wild und frei.

Sie haben Dich beobachtet,
Sie haben Dich geseh´n...
Auf dem Hügel alt, wo kalte Winde weh´n.

Ich singe eine Dornenhecke
Um dieses kleine Lied,
Um diese Saat, und Eisenkette
Füg ich Glied an Glied.

Ich singe eine Eiche,
Bewacher des Portals,
Drei Dornen Schwarzdorn,
Und ein Lied aus Stahl,
Drei Dornen Schwarzdorn,
Und Klinge kalten Stahls.

Ich singe Dir ein Schild,
Ich singe Felsgebein,
Tanze frei und wild
Unter dem Mondlichtschein.

Sie haben Dich beobachtet,
Sie haben Dich geseh´n,
Auf dem Hügel alt
Unter den Sternen steh´n.

Die Haare offen,
Die Füße bloß,
Deine Augen blickten
In Sternenweiten fern;
Und auf Deiner Stirne
Und in Deinem Schoß,
Dort leuchtet hell ein Stern.

Three thorns of blackthorn (word by word-translation, might be a song will follow)

They observed you,
They have seen you
On an ancient hill
Where cold winds blow.

Your locks were free,
Your feet were bare,
As you danced
On the Earth´s warm bosom.

They observed you,
They have seen you,
On an ancient hill
Where cold winds blow.

The Earth it suffers
Under their pounding step
They are falling,
With them they tear down all.

In their garden
They sow a leaden seed,
And they kill
All things wild and free.

They have observed you,
They have seen you,
On an ancient hill,
Where cold winds blow.

I sing a hedge of blackthorn
Around this little song,
Around this seed, and iron chain
I mend link to link.

I sing an oak, 
The guardian of the door,
Three thorns of blackthorn,
And a song of steel,
Three thorns of blackthorn,
And a blade of steel.

I sing for thee a shield,
A rock to build upon,
Dance so free and wild
Under the ancient moon.

They have seen you,
They did observe
You standing under stars
And your look it wandered far away.

Your locks were free,
Your feet were bare,
And on your brow
And in your bosom
Brightly burns a star.

Das Schwert vom Muttental (The sword of the Muttental) - Impressions from a day of martial rituals and chaos.;-)

 Here they come-some impressions from the "Heidenspass" (pagan fun) party at the Bethaus smithy, which turned out a mess;-). On Friday, I called Volker if all was okay, and learned, that a film crew announced their venue for the festival. Being impressed, I asked, what they wanted to film, and Volker said "To film the Scots! Erm...,and for a TV soap, too... ". I know when you cannot get any more information from Volker, so I left it at that and readied myself for a catastrophe. Years of practice, you know;-). I got the info they wanted to come at around 9.30 am, and felt assured the whole thing would be finished at 1 pm.

 We arrived early, at 11 am, that is, and I immediately wanted to prepare work, and cut the raw stock for the blade of the claymore we wanted to forge. At 11.30 the film crew arrived. They immediately closed down the entire area, and only the protagonists of the culturally dubious TV soap were allowed, including Volker, to do anything. They even wanted to prohibit us from talking at all, even at the distant end of the area, some 50 m away from the set! No harm done, really, would they have asked politely, but they were extremely short-tempered, cynical and plainly insulting, and yes, I have no problem ranting about them in this blog. Everything bad has a good side, too, for in this situation I really learned to love those weird guys and gals from Clan Mc Laren friends of Germany. Click on the link, there´s a load of photos! In situations like that you can estimate the quality of people.

We had a laugh, with whispered shouts of "Creag an Tuirc!" (Rock of the boar), the warcry of Clan Mc Laren and fun with bagpipe adjustment*ggg*. It was also funny to see the head admin of the crew stood there with a disgusted look on her face and a shawl pulled over her nose and mouth to fend up the stench of the smithy (which is outdoors), and muttering to all who would and more that would not like to hear how inferior those blue-collar men were and how sorry she was she had to work with ´em... I guess it was a good thing she did not hear much of what those guys and gals had to say about the behaviour of her crew. I do not like talking behind the back of people much, but this is just fitting, for mobbing is the job of corporations producing casts like "How we destroy the life of some poor fellow living on the dole already by making a feature about exactly how his sleeping room stinks" and other medieval mindset cripple shows. But as is, that crew was not so important that we did not have other topics, too. We made good use of the spare time by having a good strong coffee and chats about this and that, and I learned a lot about the Mc Laren Clan.

 To the right is Jogi, second in line to the McLaren friends´ chief role. Looks a brute, but is one of the nicest guys I know!

 There was plenty of life around, and we certainly had fun.

 I followed Sylvia into the kitchen to get me another mug of coffee. Jochen was there, too, and we had a chat. I asked him: "Will you stay for the evening party today?" He looked up, a bit irritated, and replied. "Yes, of course, for it´s mine! There is a party going on, and I booked the location 4 months in advance." As did I. So, we took counsil.

 Fortunately, I must say, my cellphone kept ringing with storytellers, druids and other weirdos canceling their appearance, so it was just Clan  Mc Laren and myself left.

 ...there is worse company (from the right) than Ralf, Rübe and the others.

 They were as nervous as I, and tprepared their attire quite thoroughly...

 ...to mess it up completely in the barbecue;-).

 Rübe enjoying a great handmade beef burger.

 ...and the rest of the lot. Of course, no barbecue without a catastrophe on this day, for, even if Volker said the grill should be placed there, does not mean it is so. Sorry, Volker, but that´s how it was for me. Jochen had a problem with customers inquiring about a BBQ meal, and so the position of the grill was not okay at all. So, speed grilling it was, and off to the feast.

 What I like best about the clan is their stubborn refusal of anything unnerving them or taking the fun away. They simply make do and enjoy themselves. I like that.

 ...

 And I understand that someone is proud of this banner.

When the morons were gone, we set to work in earnest. I had prepared a ritual, and it was a goosepimples experience to all of us. The Eldest of the clan, Reinhold, was chosen by the clan to respond.

Text of the ritual:

(Fran dagen, fran natt, rekkur varom koman, fran austrisheimi, uuestrisheimi,sudrisheimi auk nordrisheimi. Kvedja, kisibbjan, varför vart koman? - Att smidja sverdi! - Vad är herkalls dins? - Creag an Tuirc! - Rísa herkalls dins annat! - Creag an Tuirc! - Rísa herkalls dins thredjan tid! - Creag an Tuirc!)

At that point, the bagpipes sounded the charge;-), I consecrated them with artemisia, sage, salt water from ancient Hallstatt stone salt I mined myself long ago and drew out the ring of the elements around us all, giving a sacrifice to the elements and the first matter and the fire and lightning. When I started the invocation of fire and lightning, a light drizzle fell and a gentle rumble of thunder was heard at the distance (or maybe just a starting plane;-))

However, talk is cheap, and work is harder;-) that I am a bit light in the head did not mean there was no blacksmithing going on... Look here for more photos 

It was hard work for all of us, with permanent sound of bagpipes singing and shouts of "Creag an Tuirc!", and it was an arousing experience to all bystanders. Some passers-by said afterwards it made their hair stand on end. I understand that well, it was very archaic and martial atmosphere. Now I often state that I am a pacifist. Now I forged a sword for a Scottish clan. How does that fit together?

If you take a look around you, you might notice that we live in a very strange situation. Everywhere people prepare for war, but the last thing they want is peace. For peace is a non-profit affair. Traditionally, the Chleadhaimh Mór was the sword of the Clan´s champion, and this champion´s (Tren Fhér) obligation was to defend the clan in times of war. Often, in ancient Celtic tribal practice, war was an ordeal by battle, a duel fought solely by the champions of the armies. I can pretty much relate to that. Also, this ritual was something I did for myself. I will forge my own sword in the near future. I have studied its ethics and its mythology for 20 years now. This is not the place to talk about this more broadly, but it was a process. I have always fought against the desecration of the sacred, be it Christian, pagan, philosophical or whatever provenience, against the inhumanity of our everyday society, and I have always spoken my word. Five years ago it was that a sword came to me (another story). At that time, more than twelve people (roundabout 30) people followed me, so I could readily acclaim the status of Ansrúth ;-)after the Senchus Mór*ggg*. But I did not, for it is not my way. It´s not the easy way. It is not that I could state I was a master, nor that I belong to this religion or that, for I, (and if we are honest, we all are) am a seeker. I am not better than anybody. Instead, I concentrate on trying to not make the world any worser as it already is. I try to listen to the weak and strong alike. When I can, I try to help. If anyone wants to prey on the weak, I tend to get angry, but I try to be objective and reflect myself. That is not to say that I always succeed in doing so, but that I try. In the situation our world is, noone does that anymore. Noone treats the other with the respect even a moron deserves, and most people are but concerned with their own wellfare and prosperity, and, more so, get at each other´s throats for the slightest of reasons. It is said in the Völuspa:

Broedr mún beriaz, ok at bánom verdaz,

skeggold, skalmold, eda verold steypiz,

vindold, vargold, mún engi madr odrom thyrma.

(Brothers I see starting at each other, and strive for death,

An axe-time, a sword-time, ere the world ends,

A wind-time, a wolf-time, I see every man doom the other.)

So, I am reluctant to admit that, it might as well be the time to take the sword to hand, and in a way that is quite different to the actual use of the weapon. For a sword has always been more than just a weapon. It has been a symbol, and to it was bound a way of living, a way of spirituality even. In Japan, the sword was said to contain the soul of the Samurai, and presumeably, the sword did not mean less to the Celtic and Caledonian tribes. We might live in a world dominated by the tank, the whip (and the credit card) (Ernst Wiechert). But the spirit of the sword might be the only way to doom the idea of the tank. And the whip. And the credit card. Thusly, I did not forge just the blade of a weapon. I forged a bond between the members of Clan Mc Laren, and, hopefully, a tiny portion of a myth.

And, if the claymore was used for the protection of the weak, and I know the Clan Mc Laren friends well enough to estimate what meaning the forging of a sword conveys to them, I can forge this sword even if I am a pacifist, for that does not mean I am a misty-eyed dreamer. 

I am certainly not an accomplished swordsmith. This is my fourth blade, and I have so much to learn my ignorance is vaster than an ocean still. But noone else did it, so I had to.

Back to the forge now: As I was in the middle of the work, my cellphone rang. It was Alex, who helped me a lot at the Meilerwoche festival. Turns out he was on the way but got lost in the woods. He applied for working and helping with the kids, and said he would come with a rather dubious friend of his, a drunkard, to be quite plaintive. In the meantime, it was 3 pm. In the brief time of  talk we had it became clear that he was drunk also and had no money to get anywhere. He wanted to come to the smithy nonetheless. So I took some tiny bit of time to get him back on track (in several ways, or at least I hope so). He called several times, and I agreed to give him money to get back home. Look above why I did this. It was getting on my nerves, what with all the epic failures, but I guess I tried to be fair.

All the while, the forge I was provided with did not work properly, Volker asked me to forge mini horseshoes, people called to cancel their venue. Kai, Marie and some friends dropped by, Erdmuthe;-), Jandark, and Bastian came in a haze, and myself and the Mc Larens were bound by the forging of the sword, as we worked on binding the spell into the metal, Alex called again and again, and Renate and Sylvia and Jochen and Volker went mad with each other. It was a mad dream. The day came to a close, and somehow we decided to finish the blade on another occasion. Then Alex suddenly was there. I spun around madly with all the friends enquiring and the clan feasting and Alex and Volker begging for attention.

And then it was all over. We had a drink and said goodbye, and it was mighty soothing to learn the clan really had enjoyed themselves. They all had that spark in their eyes that kindles the fire of a heart. This was beautiful to see and very rewarding.

Because I was done - and all fluffy at that - I had a chat with Jandark, Julia, and Bastian, who wanted to go to a party of the president of my club, zee aylienz, and we appointed a rendezvous for them to fetch me. Of course, I had forgotten my light, and it was exactly 15 turns of the cranks of my bike for it to start raining, and what was a light drizzle at first, became a downpour after some minutes. What was real funny was, that the metro train that passes through the Ruhr valley, can be seen from the bike lane. There, it overtook me,  wet, cold, and shivering from fatigue, with SOMEONE *ggg* sitting inside warm and cozy, with his third beer open, from the money Volker then lent him. No jealousy, really, but I simply had to stop, I was laughing that hard. And I would be laughing harder still, when on a steep incline my chain broke. I fixed it, in the dark, with rain in my eyes, cold fingers and a laughing fit so intense I had muscle sores from it the next day. I arrived at home quite early, had a shower and some food and  was off to the party. Maik welcomed me warmly, and I had not expected that.

Then, when I ladled food on a dish and had my beer standing nearby, I tore down the bottle with my elbow. I had broken my middle toe some three weeks earlier, and the bottom of the bottle broke exactly the next one. I took up the bottle, mopped up the beer, finished ladling up my food, drank the rest of the beer, said "ouch" and had another laughing fit.

For I understood.

And I have learned a lot that day.

And it´s better to encounter chaos and misery sometimes than not to live at all.

Forging the Mc Laren Clan Claymore at pagan fun party

This is a Antenne Witten sequence on the pagan fun party with Clan Mc Laren at the Oktoberfest at the Bethaus / Muttental, Witten:

Click 

Yours truly messing up the forging rhythm just to see if the brutes (Jogi and Ralf)are still awake*ggg*.

A press article on the event you can find here.

I will provide you with a lot of more info as soon as I get the pics and videos myself, including footage on the ritual!

Towards the Fulda spring-Of stone and water

 On a drive towards Prichsenstadt we stopped at the spring of the Fulda, which at that point is but a tiny creek, but becomes a prominent river later on. The spring is situated in the Rhön region of Germany, a volcanic geological formation in the middle of our country. It is a beautiful landscape with rolling hills, the highest of which is the "Wasserkuppe" with a height of approx. 950 m. That we visited also, of course, and the reason was not entirely all a laughing matter, more of a smile with some tears in it. It was a great sunny day, bright and warm, with birds singing, and we finally stopped by the spring.

 Can´t remember this picture, (Drui took it;-)), but it shows the atmosphere of that day.

 Near the spring there grew a big and ancient tree, an ash spreading its prominent branches over the peaceful place near the spring, which was set in rock. We took in the atmosphere in deep breaths... and we had a laugh and a smile. I collected some rocks, and we "sat by the spring on a fallen log";-) and had a delicious snack of bread and smoked sausage.

By the spring we met two elderly women filling a truckload of cans with water and having a chat about spiritual ways and natural spirituality in general, ecology and good food. Funny, how places like this attract a certain crop of people... we had a chat, too. They mistook us for "Celtic" souls at first glance... which was a bit of a laughing matter;-). Not that we did not believe in reincarnation, mind you*ggg*, but we are far older than that*ggg*. But no offence taken, and none given*g*. In fact, we had a nice chat together and we learned that they took the mineralic water home for drinking and cooking. We need not be told twice, so we filled up some PET soft drink bottles we had in the car boot, and had a delicious drink of water.

 So next time we will bring some larger cans, too. And, I mean it;-): I have never quite tasted a water like this, with a rich flavour to it, iron, salts and other elements, that it made me feel my hair growing (back;-)).

 Looking along a hiking trail that passes on the ridge. by that tree. The ground was muddy and swampy even, and the soil was rich and dark.

 Twoflowers tourists basking in the sun*ggg* to the mild soundtrack of the gentle water flowing and dancing over ancient stones. There was a certain air of magic around the place. What, magic? Superstition? The devil?*ggg*

 I think this is a great example of how that thing works: There were no explosions, nothing falling to the ceiling, no demons or sprites springing up like jack-in-the-box. Nothing especially funny or wonderful, eh?

But there was wonder in the air. The simple silence and the peace of the sun and creation in the whole. It was that ancient tree, which was just a tree. It was that ancient spring, which was just a spring, just water. It were the ancient rocks, which were but humble rocks. It was the warmth, and the beautiful colours of the sunlight, which were no different to ten thousand and more summer days. And yet, there was this magic. It was a magic that told that everything could have its place, that flowers grow, and water flows, that time passes, and while there is nothing one could propably do about it, one must not, in turn.

This magic is subtle. It cannot be felt in a rush. It cannot be made to bend to one´s will. It is the power of nature, of creation, a power that must not bear any name. And if you give in to it, it will heal your soul, and you will find out that this is the power that made your soul in the first place. It is much more than the humble rocks, the water or the tree. They are but part of it all. They have been given names, but do we understand even them? I daresay not.

 But we must not understand. If I would want to calculate a simple underhand throw of a ball by physics or mathematics, I will get to the very limit of my capabilities, the forces involved are so complex. But any child can catch a ball thrown at it in play. There is another perspective we tend to forget or glorify: That of love, of play, of the "second sight", which is but another form of seeing things.

We forgot how to see. For seeing with your heart rids you of many fears we are laden with. And there are, let´s call them "forces", in our society not interested in people without those fears. People, and peoples with fear are easier to control, and their power always is a power "over" something, a dominion over something. Even if humans set this spring in rock, they will never fathom it, at least not water in general. We as humans can cut down that tree, we can make something out of it, but even so, we will never fathom it, for we cannot understand it. Due to this lack of understanding, we brought the world into the mess it´s in. And we realize with terror that a sandstorm on the surface of Mars with temperatures of -274 degrees Celsius are nature, too, and that even there bacteria can live-while we can not. Not loving creation will only destroy our species-but not nature in itself. This renders us utterly powerless, and we know it, and this leaves us with a horror vacui we try to fill up with gadgets and gimmicks and overcivilization.

 All the while trees grow in the warm sunlight. It is a laughing matter.

I do not want to say we managed to let it all be, but we took in the atmosphere. It is very difficult - and outright ridiculous - to call it anything more than that. We savoured the magic. We drank the water, but only until we were thirsty no more. We sat there, took in the sun and the shade and the song of the water and the peace above the warm rocks. We spared a thought for the spring and those who could not be with us-and it was with love we remembered.

 That simple can be natural spirituality. Of course, you can buy big books with fancy embellishments, magic wands and concoctions, you can wear a ton of amulets and pray to a thousand Gods as advertised, and if it does you any good, walk that way. I do not know if what I believe could be called "pagan". I have looked into the abyss, behind the masks. That does not make me a better individual, and it made my life all the more difficult. I treat the Gods-and all of them, mind you, with the respect their worshippers deserve. But I guess I have seen a glimpse, a tiny one, of that what might be the truth. And even that tiny glimpse was far greater than any names could indicate. It does not act or think in human categories, it cannot even be understood.

But it must not, too. It is like the ball being thrown. We want to calculate its flight, but noone has asked us to do so. We simply have to catch it with the joy of a child.

And thus we left, back to the road, and the sun. But a part of us we left sitting by that spring.

Highland Games in Wuppertal

 Jogi from Clan Mac Laren Friends Of Germany had invited, and many came to a beautiful site in Wuppertal, Traders, Clans, reenactors, highland sports athletes, visitors and friends alike. I was there with a blacksmithing booth for the Bethaus smithy. And, before the mayhem started, I had a quick walk around to take a look, and there I met Thomas  specializing in handforged quality knives at reasonable prices, made in the blade metropole Solingen completely by hand. We had a nice chat, and he showed me his knives. They are made from carbon steel in a museum in Solingen.

 Really nice Sgian Dubh knives... I really love the lines of these beauties!

A knife with his first "attempt" at scrimshaw;-) after the Lewis viking age chesspiece presumeably depicting a berserker.

 Cocobolo and bone...

 Some hunting knives.

 I really loved the knotwork carving on the handle of this dirk.

 ...

 A handle out of hoornbeam.

Makassar ebony.

 And a buttcap.... love that, too!

 Carving on a Sgian Dubh, ebony.

 ...as is this one.

 Then I had to interrupt my drooling, for the first kids came by and I had quite a lot to do! I forged pendants, cahin links as in the pic, Thor´s hammers (a big hit on the days!), snakes, nails, pendant knives, and hearts for putting on house doors.

 The area.

And this is Jogi with his little ones. The kids were great, and felt quite familiar with all the noise going on and obviously had fun of their own.

 Leather bracelets on display, as were kilts and a load of fine art and whisky.

 ...

 I was fond of this sporran / belt pouch.

 Jogi was quite enthusiastic about the day... in the evening the band played, and with good food, music and drink...

...the first day drew to a close.

 I was all fatigued from little to no sleep since three weeks and hard working, so I made for the drive home with a car Thomas Kier lent us, thanks for that. I even managed to get some 5 hours of sleep for a change. I was sorry, though, for there was a clan party going on and Jogi had warmly invited me to come. But there are limits of my power, too.

On Sunday morning I arrived early.

 All was still quiet....

 And I set up forge.

 After doing so, I had a walk around to take another look. It was raining hard, Scottish sunshine;-).

 This is the booth of carrynette and highland outfitters.

 Really high-end sporrans and silverware...

 ...needles and pins and brooches. Sorry for the lousy pic, but I hope you get the gist. Really high-end quality!

 Belt buckles...

Quality dress jackets and even skirts.

 The booth of Saxo whisky bar Remscheid. Must I really explain this*ggg*?

Then I visited the booth of Clan macLeod. Friendly guys selling mead, whisky, brooches and clan merchandise.

Clan crest brooches...

Love that clan crest flask!

..tofill in these delicacies, yum!*ggg*

The clan crest of Clan MacLeod (or my El as they prefer to be called.

 This is the clan crest of Clan mac Laren.

 At the Schoenheit und Wunder booth I came across this dress Sgian Dubh:

.

 The heather gem on the pommel is actually made from heather. The material is cleansed, epoxied and force-compressed with more than 80to., then polished to a high lustre, as is the blade made from unspecified stainless steel. The handle is nickel silver.

 That´s the material. Fascinating, if you ask me

.

 Then it was back to Thomas´booth for more detail photos and more drooling...;-)

Have to make myself one soon. First , however, will be the one for Craig! I really like the lines of this type of knife, and the whole concept appeals to me.

Those are some hunting knives Thomas also makes. He loves to use regional woods such as plum, apple, and pear, but also uses cocobolo and ebony and bone.

The guys were coldforged from a solid block, if you ask me. It was raining hard, and they simply practised as if the sun was shining... Scots are made from a tough stamp, it seems;-).

Those two were my neighbours, really friendly people, providing myself with grilled sausage, just because they were fond of the stories I told the kids! Thanks a lot, it was fun to work with you!

Then the clans were marching in. Funny, with all the bagpipes and drums you get the urgent feeling you have to conquer a small country;-).

One cool Lochaber axe!;-)

I stood there in line with my ceremonial hammer and was quite impressed... but, as it seems, they were equally impressed by me;-). Feels good to be welcome...

Then the family of Markus came by, a bunch of unwashed heathens;-)... either adults and kids were forge-mad;-) and had a lot of fun.

This little girl has presumeably an ancient soul. I was quite impressed with little Marika. She forged several pieces and not only did extremely well at it, but also was very helpful. She shared very many tales with me (and I with her) about the ancient gods. Freya, the "savage grace" she liked best, and it showed. She helped many kids by binding the apron, lended a hand in handing over tools and shared her own food and drink with other kids. She was very open, but distinct about her opinion. You had to take time to discuss with her, but if it made sense, she followed advice. She was playful, but more competent socially than most adults.

 Karina, her friend(?) helped out a good deal also. They were taking pride in being my "apprentices", and, even if it was kinda strenuous telling hundreds of tales while forging extremely difficult pieces (Odhinn´s sign anyone? I can´t even draw it, but had to forge it ex tempore;-)... I failed, and they will visit the smithy and complete it with me...), I was very fond of them. I wonder, if their ability, agility and liveliness might be attributed to them being pagans... for I find most pagan and Steiner school educated kids being more competent both socially and intellectually, more creative and agile. It was a complete contrast to some Mammonist/Nihilist kids I forged with that day, and it got me thinking. Mammon makes zombies, that much I can say, at least compared with those two. They might have to live a tough life, but I wish them that they always find the strength that really matters.

 Many kids I forged with that day, and, no matter what belief they had, they all were fascinated and had fun playing with fire and steel. And that´s a great thing.

Reenactor´s idyll;-)...

 Two days passed in a rush, with a lot of impressions, nice people, strenuous work, good food and drink. Thanks to all of you, it was a great experience!