"it is you Fehu
at the beginning
arising from the land
Audhumbla licking ice
i am consumed"
From the book "(un)familiar: a runic journey" by Ingrid Kincaid. Each of her 33 rune poems have 33 words and can be read forward or backward.
The runes have been with me since childhood, waiting at the periphery. In a pendant of my mother's, in heirloom embroidery. After my grandfather Sigurd died I traveled to Norway to visit his family and fell in love with the land, my relatives, the ancient magic everywhere. I sought books on folklore, history in museums. I didn't really know what I was seeking but something old called me--in the wind, the sky, the mountains, the perpetual sea. I came home to a marriage I hid in and disappeared for a decade with that and my children. Even though I celebrated the seasonal cycles, read and studied witchcraft and myth, all was alone and forbidden. Then in 2013, after many transitions including divorce, I met Ingrid Kincaid through a mutual friend, stared at her arms wreathed in rune tattoos. I felt a kindred there so strong. Everything changed.
When I began working with the runes all that was out of alignment in my life was suddenly, painfully transformed. It hasn't ended. But living daily with these beings, my ancestors, learning their stories, unfolding in a cosmos of elemental forces, of mythic time, has rooted me in ways I could not have imagined. I feel the hands of my disir, my sacred ancestral grandmothers, in everything. Try, they whisper, trust, they call. So here, an offering. :
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