These murky woods - thoughts on the civic duty of escapism

 I like to think that I am a thinking man. I like to think that I have a reasonable amount of common sense. I have a day job like so many others, and like so many others I only find space for dreams and things that portray meaning to me in a world where human society subsedes. Of course I like to read fantasy novels, mythology and fairy tales and tales of mystery and imagination. For instance, I absolutely dug the laid Ursula K. le Guin´s Earth Sea cycle and have read all of it with gusto.

But I always did so with a sense of guilt and shame. It did not feel right to lose oneself in tales and dreams, when there where actual creatures of Evil roaming the Earth. Donald Trump, Vladimir Putin, that Turkish fucker, that North Korean fucker and all the other fuckers who deserve more than death. Yes, that´s Fimbulmyrk ranting. Yes, that´s Fimbulmyrk hate-mongering. Yes, and Fimbulmyrk hates those fuckers even more so because those fuckers brought him that far. There are about one thousand methods of torture I would inflict on, say Donald Trump if it made any sense. But it does not make any sense. Because all hope for a better world is lost for good and there will be ever worse tyrants. It makes no sense to kill the tyrants or even hate them, because the next ones in line will be even madder and far worse. I would gladly kill myself, but what for? Even suicide would not make any sense any more.

Enter the grand old dame of fantasy. Ursula K. Le Guin, ( https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ursula_K._Le_Guin) who died on January, the 22nd, said the following:


(source: https://www.facebook.com/authorchrisriddell/photos/a.857902824262731.1073741829.532119136841103/1630039517049054/?type=3&theater)

So many things are deemed escapist. My colleague at work says blacksmithing with children is escapist. Bushcraft is deemed escapist. Walking through nature is escapist. Spirituality is escapist, as is fantasy and literature and striving for an education that is not "push that button and shut up".

Notice summat?

People tell me that blogging is dead, and I was asking why. Because noone has time to read anymore and many people do not have the ability to follow articles that are longer than five lines, because they lack the span of attention required for more, they keep saying.

Many of the people in my acquaintance suffer from one or the other form of depression, most of them, to be exact. One of my friends who is in therapy right now, said she did not know the many things that are wrong with her before therapy, that she did not know exactly how deficient she actually was. So much for succesful therapy, by the way. Many of them cannot cope with the lack of any perspective in our world, with the ongoing warmongering, with the increasing pressure on the individual´s life, with the perverted turns of everyday life where nutrition is the new religion, and any other spirituality is absent and escapist and deficient.

Madmen are heads of corporation, and of city, and of state. Big-term business corporation own us all and do not even try to conceal the fact that they are the one who rule us. It´s not that they would kill you in case you don´t obey... you just do not belong any more if you do not play the game according to their rules. And the rules change like the weather and after unconceivable and absurd fashions.

That sheds an intersting light on the term "deficient perception of reality", innit?

And if you do not belong at all anymore, and feel left alone in the dark, then this post is for you. Because I want to tell you a secret.

They fear you.

They fear the archaic threat you pose.

They fear the twilight of murky woods. They can drive off darkness with the flick of a switch, everywhere, they can control nature to a frightening degree... but they cannot control the wilderness in your mind.  

They fear the other world. They fear God and the Gods and what is lurking beneath. And by belittling everything of real substance, crafts and art and fantasy, spirituality and belief, they hope to free themselves from the nagging doubts that grow like a cancer and grow and spread. They fear the werewolves and the spirits of the dark as well as the light. They are by definition, grey and Evil. They are the worsest of the worst.

The mist fell on ancient hills. After work, I set out for a bimble. So, you say, are you not afraid of wild pigs or wolves or racoons or foxes? No, I say. I am afraid of bankers and economists and politicians. No wolf could do that much harm to me. No wild pig would want to tear my soul apart and leave it throbbing with pain in a darkness that is no darkness but an abyss that defies definition. Then, you ask, are you not afraid, at least, if you are such a superstitious guy, of the spirits of the dark? Of what is lurking in the realm of twilight behind the threshold you so often mention?

But, in a world where light is only neon, and neon alone and thou shalt not relish in the warm flicker of the golden light of a candle, I have no shame anymore of unbecoming human, but something deeper and darker, with gnarled roots in the rock of the other world. I am a teller of secrets untold and unborn. I am the whisperer in the twilight. I am unbecoming human, and I am walking the masked path of twilight fury. I mean no bodily harm to anyone... but I know not shame anymore in telling the tales of the murky woods.

I have no shame in becoming the violent twilight. I have no mercy anymore. I have no guilt in killing with a word of power, a song of insanity, a sword I found in the other world, of killing the souls of the grey ones once and for good. For they fear, and I feed on their wrath and their fear to become even stronger. Yes, fear shall follow them, fear of the murky woods. Yes, peaceless by restlessness they shall become. Yes, they shall have no respite anymore, anywhere. I am a part of the darkness, I walk the masked path through the thicket of my fantasies... in stealth I tread to find a path into their dreams. There, at the threshold between wake and sleep, I will be lurking to ravage their soul. Care to join me?
 

And the most powerful weapon I have is being myself. A dreamer. A teller of tales, a whisperer of secrets, a part of the woods they so much fear. 

Try it. Sit by a stream in the murky woods. Listen to its song. And unbecome human. become the wildness of your mind instead, the clawed and horned animal that thrives in the deepest of the woods of your mind, the sorcerer, the maiden, the warrior, the mother, the child, and man and woman and beast alike. Scream the love of your live into the raging, ravaging storm - and become the storm, laughing as the absurdity of their ways is tattered by your breath.

Find the words that are the weapon of these songs, find the blade that is silence, find the tales it sings and tells. Do not harm their bodies - but strike back with the hardest force when they attack you. Escape from a reality that is not real, escape from a tyranny that is more than a tyranny of the body, but a prison for your soul. And fight. Always guard your dreams and never feel ashamed of your soul.

No, you are not perfect. Yes, you are dyfunctional. Yes, you are escapist.

Make it your sword, and always keep it shaving sharp. And protect your like and kind with every living breath and strive to take as many with you as you can.

Some thoughts on Mara- the film by Tommy Krappweis

Tommy Krappweis, inventor of German cult cartoon character (uh, am I possessed because I write in aliterations?;-)) "Bernd das Brot", has made a very, very great film. "Mara und der Feuerbringer", a spellbinding story about a young girl discovering that she is a spákóna and has to save the world from the fate of the Gods, the Ragnarök, has a lot to offer. Dragons, Vikings, professors dunked into a stream and THE idol of many students of Old Norse literature, Prof. Dr. Rudolph Simek, in a role playing himself as a teacher. And there is a most evil character, a new-born God called Loge, the firebringer. This ursurper kidnaps the wife of Loki, the genuine Old Norse God of fire, deception and satire, the trickster of the Gods. Myth has it that Loki was bound by the thundergod, Thórr, to a rock and tortured by the poisonous saliva of a giant snake fastened above him. His wife, Sigyn, helps Loki by gathering up the saliva in her magic bowl. But when the bowl is full, she has to empty it, and when Loki is hit by the poison again, he writhes and cries, and his cries shake the ground. Ultimately, the shaking earth will loosen his bounds, and then the end of the world as we know it will come. Now Sigyn (and her bowl) are kidnapped, and if you take that to mind you realize the world´s in for big trouble. Mara, with the help of Prof. Weissinger and a migration-era superhero is the only one capable of bringing back Sigyn and her bowl from the captivity of Loge.

Loge has many characteristics of Surtr, the Eddic fire giant, but there is more to him. For he has been born out of a wrong translation and Wagnerian hype. And the perversion of Old Germanic mythology by the Nazi regime in the Third Reich, one might add.

Prof. Weissinger, in one scene of the movie, states that he owes the fact that his office is situated in the basement of the University to the Nazis and their ideology that up until now renders a study of the subject near impossible. He gets infuriated by the media hype about vikings with horned helmets, cartoon characters and underwear models as Norse heroes... this I take as a very little nasty comment on recent media productions not exactly brimming with authenticity, so to say;-).

And, OH, how well I can relate to this! I once studied Old Norse literature as well, at Bochum University. We were constantly threatened by closure, were cut short on finance, had no access to modern literature and constantly had to legitimate ourselves for studying topics such as runeology, a science about the study of runes and runic inscriptions, since the Nazis also  did this and that.

Enter Loge. He is not just the personification of Wagnerian provenience, but also of the madness of the esoteric approach, of media hype, and the ultimate enemy of any sincere scientific and mythological approach towards Old Norse mythology. And, as C.G. Jung stated in Wotan (1928), the neglect of this genuine mythology ultimately leads to mass hysteria and neurosis, being one reason the Nazi regime had such an easy dealing with the mass psyche of Germany.

We live in a world where surface is everything, where buying, selling and consuming are the primary sense of life. Many of my so-called friends have developed a psychotic line of behaviour along this frenzy, this frantic run through life, where there are no values left.

Generally, there is a strong desire, an outright yearning for myth. But, as Ursula K. Le Guin, author of the famed "Earth Sea" series states in her foreword to the new book of the series, the industry is already reacting. By marketing hype and consumer politics even dragons are subject to buying and selling and thusly deprived of their enchantment and magic. I personally believe that this is not only due to business policies and marketing strategies, but a reactionary social process. People with a strong and stable character are less prone to hype and marketing hysteria. Genuine myth and fairy tale offer a strong method of character - building, and, it is a commonplace in psychology that myths have a strong influence on the development of personality and character. Strong characters have a tendency to question their own consumer behaviour. The media have long lost their objectivity in favour of spreading a mixture of fearmongering news and marketing. Product placement and underwear models as superheroes are a normal marketing strategy in our time. A true story without intent of selling anything but its own content is hard to come by. This goes as far as the use of fantasy classics such as the Lord Of The Rings by J.R.R. Tolkien. Apart from the movies which were not THAT bad, but not THAT good either, you can buy anything from t-shirts, cups, stickers, replicas, toilet paper and whatnot. The pictures created by the movie are commonplace now. Millions of fans now have the same picture of a king, with the associated merchandise flowing in behind. It is refreshing to see, however, that the victory over the wild psychological landscape of fantasy is not complete. Still there are artists, e.g. like my idol in blacksmithing, Gullinbursti creating art that brings up different pictures, and re-enacting the myth and thusly unmounting the rigid regime of those marketing pictures.

Enter Tommy. I daresay he believes in myth and magic. He appears not a hazy-eyed dreamer, but in any case he wanted to create a modern myth to give back something to the world of fancy and dreams in the best sense of the word. He is very authentic and created a genuine myth.

And here comes the culprit: He did so with co - financing by a big-player TV production corporation famed for hype and marketing in the worst sense of the word. Of course, this corporation does nothing else than other corporations do. But I personally have the impression that they financed a production they deemed harmless and serviceable only to learn there was a myth created with a lot of potential to endanger many marketing strategies they had thought up. What better way then to get rid of it than doing no marketing for the movie and letting it die? From an accounting depreciation point you could easily account it as a dismission depreciation, and there´d be no second part to fear. More important yet was that the distribution corporation tried to label it as a mere children´s movie while it actually is THE best fantasy movie Germany has come up with since the venue of the Michael - Ende novel film "Die unendliche Geschichte" (The Neverending Story). The message was "leave the making of fantasy films to the Americans, they know their trade better". This would have been the end of the story.

But that does neither take into account Tommy nor the community he created in two weeks time. Throughout Germany, people from many social backgrounds socialized and visited the cinema to watch the movie repeatedly - as a statement. They went there in their re-enactment attire or as a cosplayer. I daresay, Loge is writhing now in anger;-). And why should it be that German directors should not be able to create a decent fantasy film? There´s no reason they should not. German history is brim full with authors of fairy tales (Grimm, E.T.A Hoffmann, Eichendorff, Storm, Goethe, Schiller, just to name a few). The German fantasy scene is thriving and is one of the liveliest in the world.

Mara is not just a film now. It is a movement, and I am proud to have part in it. I am proud to kick Loge´s ass myself. It is about time that real people took to peacefully repairing a shattered world.

Tommy has started it. He is a genuine, true hero to me. I ask... what would be if the rebels of dreams joined forces?

 

 

I just want  my readers to take hope into the fact that still it is possible to have a mind open to real pictures of the mind, real fantasies, and real dreams... and that it is never too late to fight for your dream. Such as Tommy does and many others who follow him. 

 

 

Never surrender.

Skóggángr

Maybe you know this feeling: The woods call you, call you out into their solemn embrace. They call you in your everyday business, in work and leisure, and some of you listen. But the call grows more intense. You adapt to the woods, that is what you do and have to do, if you want to move swiftly and silently in their realm, and the trees grow into your heart and soul. You watch the animals and listen to the murmur of the creeks, and they tell you tales alien to mankind´s endeavours so far removed from the actual world. The wind in the treetops cradles you in its eternal lullaby, and something happens to you.

In ancient times in the North, people found guilty of severe crimes were banned from the community of man. In times when life was at bay at a blink of an eye, this was absolutely necessary to ensure a working community. They were deemed inhumane, called "vargr" (a grim connotation of "ulv", meaning wolf) or skóggángr (woodsroamer). Science is still going on about the term skóggángr, but it seems to be referring to someone deliberately leaving the community of men.

In our times something has happened. The tides have turned. While in former times survival meant to fight nature for survival, now we are faced with an altogether different matter. We as human beings have deprived the world of all magic, have exploited nature to an extent that the desolation threatens our own life. The seas are littered with toxic and nuclear waste, and it might be argued that the recent shift of the poles has something to do with the erection (pun intended) of super-high skyscrapers on critical balance points. No wolves roam the woods, and if a bear chances to come by, it is called a psychotic problem-bear and shot to mincemeat. We even try to kill nature in ourselves by domesticating and stupefying humans to an extent that many youth are not even capable of survival in a civilized surrounding.

But it is YOU who is called by the woods. They might be subject to forestry commission and business. They might be domesticated and seem to be tame, but believe me, they are not. Their call is violent, and tragedy and triumph happen every year, month, week, day, second ticking away not with the pulse of a clock, but the pulse of the almighty mother, earth. Spring and winter, summer and autumn are but a breathing in and out there. Your individuality does not tip the scales even a tiny bit, but your soul weighs heavy there. It coincides with the pulse and breathing of the dark, rich soil. It blossoms with the flowers and withers with the winter.

And you get a notion that this might be the real life after all.

Then you return to your everyday endeavours, a changed human being, and you notice the everyday wrongness of life. All too soon you notice all your energy you won in the woods is spent, and when you feel exhausted, you hear the call again. And you return, and the roots of ancient trees yet unborn grow deep into your heart. Alien you become to the ways of those cyborgs and zombies that call themselves human and that delight in preying on their fellow beings while preaching denaturation and trying to establish a peace that is no peace, but numbness, ignorance, and indifference. By stealing away all dream they try to become immortal in indifference.

But there is no immortality of the body, and dynamics and change is the immortality of the soul. Metamorphosis is the law of nature, never ceasing to grow and blossom. Violent is the creativity of that dream, unfathomable by the ways of the Grey God they pray to. And thus they make this world.

You try to fight them. But you cannot fight with their weapons.

And so again you run into the woods. Is this escapism?

I do not think so. In fact, I think that it is in the woods that we find the weapons to fight with. Roaming the woods, being banned from a society of zombies and cyborgs is no longer a sentence, but a privilege.

Into the woods we walk. Into a dream we walk.

But under the treetops, near the stream, the clover sprouts, and under the pillars of the tree´s stems, the dream prospers.

Pathways we walk, ostracized by mankind, to become something old and something new, over old hills and farther away than just the distance.

And this is what skóggángr means to me now. It is a mere word, but it is taking roots, slowly, but securely, in the dream of the forest in my heart.

The buzzard flies above this forest, scanning the ground for its prey. Wolves return from the exile. Oh, yes, they are dangerous. Yes, they might threaten the life of wildstock and tame animals and humans alike. Yes, I would not want to get on the wrong side of them. But then they are of my kind. As is the owl, that stealthy hunter in the night.

This is the essence of skóggángr: Being one with the hunters and the prey, with river and stream. With the wind and the storm and the shadowy mists in the night. With the sun shining warm upon the meadows and twinkling in the stream, but also with the piercingly hard and frosty starlight in the midnight sky.



And with both sides united in the shady twilight.

The sun might sink beyond the hills: Darkness falls. But there is no Evil lurking here, for the Evil man fears is not the truth; man in itself has become the worst enemy. So we unbecome human. So we dream another life. So we deliberately walk into the thrall of the forest´s spirits, for there is nothing to be feared but the utter void of grey. Skóggángr we become. Forest we become.



Behind the gates there is a spring waiting. Behind the mist-enchanted sun, behind the circles of passage spring dwells.

There is art in this hope, there is hope in this art.

This is a new way.

This is a war to be fought, a hunt to be feasted.

Run with the night. The hunter´s moon is rising.

Rettet Mara! (Save Mara...)

(English article below the German version)

Neu in den Kinos und schon zum Scheitern verdammt zu sein scheint der von der FBW Filmbewertung mit dem Prädikat "wertvoll" ausgezeichnete Film "Mara und der Feuerbringer". Tommy Krappweis, Erfinder der Kultfigur "Bernd das Brot", der auch schon die Bücher der Mara - Trilogie verfasste, führte Regie. Der Film wurde unter anderem durch den bekannten Altgermanisten, Skandinavisten und Philologen Prof. Dr. Rudolph Simek, Verfasser zahlreicher Standardwerke zur nordischen Mythologie, beraten und liebevoll und jugendgerecht umgesetzt. Im Film werden wichtige Fragen der jugendlichen Entwicklung aufgegriffen und in den Kontext der skandinavischen Mythologie gesetzt: Die Protagonistin, Mara Lorbeer, die in der Schule bislang das Leben einer Außenseiterin führte, entdeckt eines Tages, dass sie eine Spákóna, eine Seherin in der nordischen Tradition ist. Nur sie allein kann die Welt retten, die vom Untergang und dem "Endschicksal der Götter", dem Ragnarök, bedroht wird. Unterstützt wird sie dabei von einem Skandinavistik - Professor, der einige Überraschungen erlebt, aber auch zu bieten hat. Der Film stellt neben vielen anderen Aspekten eine Tour de Force durch die Welt der nordischen Mythologie dar, bietet jedoch auch eine ganz entscheidende Kritik an dem Umgang mit dem Thema vor und während der Zeit des Dritten Reichs. Die Figur des Loge, die den Widersacher der jungen Seherin darstellt, thematisiert die pathologische Verfremdung der alten Mythen während dieser Zeit.

 

Der Film stellt eine kurzweilige und wertvolle Unterhaltung, nicht nur für Kinder und Jugendliche, sondern gerade auch für gebildete Erwachsene dar, und bietet kulturelle Aufarbeitung mit wohldosierter Action auf hohem Niveau. Die deutsche Produktion mit namhaften Größen wie Esther Schweins und Christoph Maria Herbst (Stromberg) wurde durch eine namhafte TV- und Kinoproduktionsgesellschaft produziert. Jedoch steht zu befürchten, dass der Film aufgrund mangelnder Werbung wieder in der Versenkung verschwindet. In sozialen Netzwerken wird daher zu bewußtem Engagement für diese deutsche Produktion aufgerufen. So ist bereits eine regelrechte Bewegung entstanden, die sich aus Museumsdarstellern, Germanisten, Skandinavisten und anderen Geisteswissenschaftlern zusammensetzt. Diese Bewegung setzt sich neben dem Einsatz für einen sehenswerten Film auch und besonders für die unverkrampfte Auseinandersetzung mit wichtigen nordeuropäischen Mythen ein. Denn gerade in einem geprüften Europa ist diese Auseinandersetzung mehr als wichtig: Nur wer weiß, wo er herkommt, kann gemeinsam mit anderen auch die Herausforderungen der Zeitgeschichte nachhaltig meistern.

 

Es bleibt also nur ein Aufruf: Besucht diesen sehenswerten und wertvollen Film mit Eurer Familie oder allein und handelt damit in mehrfachem Sinne positiv für die Förderung deutscher Kultur in einem europäischen Zusammenhang. Wenn Ihr ihn gut findet, sprecht darüber. Teilt ihn auf facebook und twitter, schickt ihn an alle Eure Freunde. Macht ein Event draus, geht in Gewandung in den Film oder mit Holzfällerhemd, Chucks und T-Shirt, wie Mara es tun würde. Und zeigt so den Mobbing Kids "eine WIRKLICHE Schlange" (Zitat aus Mara... neugierig?;-))

 

 

 

Hier gibts ein Interview mit Tommy Krappweis, der sich für sein Baby den Arsch bis zur Erschöpfung aufreisst.

 

 

 

 

So, now to a little insight for my English readers. You might have wondered why it is that you read on Fimbulmyrk about yet another fantasy film. "Mara und der Feuerbringer", a motion picture directed by German film director Tommy Krappweis, who by coincidence is also author of the fantasy novel trilogy, however is more than just another fantasy movie.

 

It is a spellbinding story about some things those of us who are old might remember still - it is about growing up and not giving up on your dreams in the process. It is about a little girl, Mara Lorbeer, being mobbed at school, and having a hard life - with a mother who is on something of an esoteric rampage, a frantic quest for sense in a world deprived of all magic and being beaten up at school by the bully kids. In this situation she learns that she is actually a spákóna, a seeress in the Old Norse tradition. The film, by the way, was counselled by the famed Austrian philologist Prof. Dr. Rudolph Simek, author of many benchmark works concerning Old Norse mythology and philology. If you know Prof. Dr. Simek and you learn that Mara gets a much - needed support by "the professor", you might even discover some similarities. For Mara desperately is in need of support: She is the only one capable of saving the world from the "Ragnarök", the final fate of the Gods. In a most eloquent way the ultimate enemy is introduced: Loge, who shares many, many characteristics with the fire Jotun (giant) Surtr, who storms the Asgardian realm with his flaming sword on the day of doom. But Loge is made of a different stuff. He gets his power by the neglection of Nordic myth and the hysterical and pathological way Nazi Germany adapted the tales of the Gods in the time of the Third Reich and before. Being the mythological personification of the Loge of Wagnerian provenience, Loge seems to be larger than life, and at  the first look it seems next to impossible that a little girl could manage to even face this almighty and powerful God who is even capable of kidnapping the wife of the great deceiver of Norse mythology, Loki, himself. But both Loge and the spectators are in for a surprise. The professor and Mara both learn from each other, thusly making the perfect match for the adventure. This to me is a message that has certainly enriched my life: That the virile creativity and the academical view can work hand in hand to cope with the overly strong and Evil force that threatens the world.

 

I have watched the film. It is well suited for Youth and children, but you can truly appreciate it if you have some insight into the Norse mythology. And here it is where the story enters into real life.

 

For Tommy Krappweis produced the film for a huge TV and cinema production corporation. The motion picture was considered with the official predicate of being a valuable one for kids and adults alike. But fact is, there is next to no advertising for this movie by the corporation. The film is no supported and Tommy himself advertises it via facebook and twitter in hope of being able to fund the second part of the movie.

 

To me personally there is a very acrid stench of fish around the whole process, one that I know all too well from my time of studying Old Norse literature, the stench of outright sabotage, ignorance and neglect. When studying, we were always faced with the accusation of being Fascist or Nazi just because we wanted the outright opposite - learning about the truth of Norse mythology to get rid of the ridiculous endeavours of Nazi Germany. Or plain ignorance, neglect and derision. In order to fight for our country, to regain a healthy national identity we strove to look through the nationalistic pamphlets, through the sneer and sniggering of materialists and the almighty businessmen. We were fighters then, we are fighters now.

 

And here comes the beauty of it all: Philologists and reenactors, philosophers and students, kids and adults alike have formed a friendly and peaceful community to support this modern-day myth. A genuine myth, for its is the mythological personification of one of the biggest fights of our time: The fight of the dream against the egomaniac times, the fight of the heart against hate and greed, and the fight of our nation for a healthy identity. For only if you really know who you are you can truly welcome guests or fight enemies within, as our time demands from us all. Mara fights our fight, and she has become a symbol for this fight, and I sincerely wish that creativity and science will form a shield wall against the force of Evil - that dwells in ourselves.

 

Watch the movie. It´s not a heebie-jeebie action fancy where things go kaboom every second. It is sincere, and unpretentious, funny, serious, and atmospheric. It is a children´s film for adults, and adult film for children. It´s about fighting dragons, heroes, swords, friendship, love and freeing Gods.

 

But be warned: The "Vikings" series might make you throw up afterwards:-D. 

And here´s a poem I wrote long ago (and was inspired by the hélstáfnar runes on the rune inscription of Rök, Sweden: "Sibbe veahvari ól niraethr", but seems to strangely fit now:


Vaivarar Kríg

Hrafnar thrjá floginn yfir hafinns,
Hrafnar thrja,
Inn fyrsta fló,
Hann fló till Útgards,
Annar fló,
Hann fló till Midgards,
Inn thridi fló,
Hann fló till Asgards.

Hveistu hvé hrafnar sagum?
Hveistu hvé rúnar ratinn?
Hveistu hvé sóa ok hvé rista skál?

Vart sverdtíd, vart blóttid,
Vart vaevarar kríg,
Vid mannligan vapnóm vi gangan till strids:

Vid sverdi ok skeggi ok gándr av ýr,
Vid fyfir fárbauti ok gándr av ýr,
Vid iarnarbrótt iarnt ok gándr av ýr,
Vid galdinn ok seidinn ok gándr av ýr,
Vid rúnor ok sógur ak gándr av ýr-

Vi kempan att vinna ok vinnan it lands.

The war of the guardians of the sacred

Raven three flew over the sea,
Raven three.
The first flew, he flew to Útgard,
The other flew, he flew to Midgard,
The third one flew, he flew to Asgard.

Do you know what the ravens say?
Do you know what the runes council?
Do you know how to sacrifice and how to write?

It is sword - time, it is time to sacrifice,
The war of the Vaivari (sentinels of the sacred) has come,
With gleaming weapons we face combat:

With sword and axe and a staff of yew,
With the arrow´s giant and a staff of yew,
With shards of broken iron and a staff of yew,
With sorcery and witchcraft and a staff of yew,
With runes and tales and a staff of yew,

We will fight to win and claim this land.

Please take note: This is in no way an academical way of treating the topic. Actually, we read the phrase "Sibbe uuai uaari" as "Sibbe of Vé" nowadays, and my teacher, Prof. Dr. Else Ebel would whack the shit out of me, but hey, it´s poetry. It is fantasy. I have also messed up the writing, for I can´t find the types for the "dh" and "th" sounds. But I guess the point´s made nonetheless. To my English - speaking readers: There´s something you can do: Inquire about the movie in English. Tell your friends about it. Share it on facebook and twitter and social networks. And "show the bullies a real snake" (quote from Mara).

So, Tommy, if you read this: Take care, and rest assured that you are not alone.
 

Fly well, Sir Terry-in memory of Terry Pratchett

Sir Terry Pratchett is dead. The author of the famed disc world novels, who had been sick with Alzheimer disease died on 12th of March.

He is one of the few people in this world I am angry with myself never to have met in person. He was a character full of diversities, controversies and fantasy. One may like or distest his writing, but there is no mistaking the man was larger than life. Raising funds is just another facet of this true and living wizard, for Orang Utans as well as for dementia prevention and cure. An astronomer as well, as a man with a good humour and an affinity for good dark ale;-), what inspires me most of all is that he forged his own sword.

Now readers of my blog might have got an idea that it might not be exactly easy to smelt your own iron ore, even as an accomplished blacksmith. But this is exactly what Terry Pratchett did, as soon as he had been knighted by the Queen Of England.

He just went outside, collected some iron ore, smelted it with some friends in the garden of his house, and "chucked in some meteorites, you just have to use them, whether you believe in it or not". Then he went to a blacksmith to learn how to hammer it out and to quench it. Even more awe-inspiring is that this came out:


source:http://static02.mediaite.com/themarysue/uploads//2010/09/Terrys-Sword.jpeg

What I want to say is that he had a dream, and lived this dream. He already had Alzheimer disease then, and cannot have been an absolute amateur in metalworking, but he still created something this beautiful. Because he wanted to. His coat of arms has the credo embossed:

Noli Timere Messorem (Don't fear the reaper)

I personally have the impression that this is a personal achievement he had accomplished, dying surrounded  by his family with his cat sleeping in his lap. He had lived his dream, but he has never lived in a dream. The discworld novels might often appear as slapstick humour, but if you read them thoroughly you will notice a dimension that is both humane, friendly and more silent smile than laughter. He has never made a secret out of the fact that he has always been more of a sceptic seeker of the truth, but he really and honestly sought the spiritual dimension "on the other side of physics". Radicals of any religion will detest that and hate him for that, but, if you read his articles closely, you get some weird ideas about peace being actually possible. And not because he ordered you to, but because what he says makes a sort of sense.


He certainly has inspired me. To forge my own sword, that too, but to live  according to my heart. And if I am honest, the one topic has a lot to do with the other.

Might be one day we will meet beyond the black desert under the endless night sky to smile upon the quest for the place where the gods  come from we all were on. I do not know if I fear the reaper. I daresay I do, but there´s nothing I could do but live according to my heart, and Terry Pratchett inspired me to do this with his life.

Thanks.