"Measure your oath carefully before you make it, or don't make it at all."
~ Steven Thor Abell, Letters from Midgard
It's pretty natural as we get older to look back on the follies & foibles of our youth with feelings ranging from embarrassed amusement to poignant regret. Maybe it is because this Samhain I will be turning forty, or perhaps it is because I have been missing some old friends, (more likely it is a little of both), that I have been doing a great deal of looking back lately. When it comes to the regretful end of the spectrum, I try to avoid keeping memories there. Regret is such a wasteful emotion. However, there still linger a few moments when I exhibited truly poor form, egregiously wronged someone or failed to follow through on a promise. These I cannot help but regret.
This past week's reading material put a magnifying glass to one of my more regrettable blunders, giving me the sense that the authors(?) were addressing me directly. I started reading Jason Miller's Protection and Reversal Magick (for reasons entirely unrelated to this post) and found a section that was uncomfortably familiar and not really what I expected to come upon in that particular book. Discussing broken vows he recalls, "I vowed to do several things… In my youthful exuberance I made these promises in the presence of gods and spirits, and then promptly broke them." He continues from there, but what was most important about that section of the book was that it was a reminder for me, a very specific reminder. Then, yesterday I was reading Steven Thor Abell's blog, Letters from Midgard. In his post "Minding Your Manners," he writes:
This past week's reading material put a magnifying glass to one of my more regrettable blunders, giving me the sense that the authors(?) were addressing me directly. I started reading Jason Miller's Protection and Reversal Magick (for reasons entirely unrelated to this post) and found a section that was uncomfortably familiar and not really what I expected to come upon in that particular book. Discussing broken vows he recalls, "I vowed to do several things… In my youthful exuberance I made these promises in the presence of gods and spirits, and then promptly broke them." He continues from there, but what was most important about that section of the book was that it was a reminder for me, a very specific reminder. Then, yesterday I was reading Steven Thor Abell's blog, Letters from Midgard. In his post "Minding Your Manners," he writes:
"Oaths are taken seriously by Ásatruar. Before you swear to do something, first be sure it is an honorable thing to do, then be sure it is something you can do, and furthermore something you will do. That doesn't mean it has to be easy. In fact, if you go to the trouble to make an oath, it's better that it not be easy, as many of us will tell you that insignificant oaths are made by insignificant people."
Ok. I got the message.
Back in 1992 or 1993 I attended a blót during which I made an oath I did not keep. In my "youthful exuberance" & utter foolishness, I made a vow to Freya that I would gift her with a necklace; a necklace lovingly & painstakingly created by collecting & stringing apple seeds. I vowed that when I completed it, I would ceremoniously take it into the forest & hang it upon a tree in her honor. This unfulfilled promise still haunts me. I recollect it with a creeping dread. For years I toted around a baby food jar filled with seeds, only to throw it away after it had sealed closed from age, rendering the seeds inaccessible. I started collecting seeds anew several more times, only to give up on the project again & again. Then, I found a vintage appleseed necklace at a charity thrift store. Ah ha! My appleseed necklace troubles are over! Oh, wait, that wasn't the vow…
Why was this so stinking hard? Why the Helen didn't I just make the necklace? I genuinely do not know, but I think there should be a moratorium on vows made by flaky college students -- to protect them from themselves & moldy, 20-year-old regrets.
Repercussions? Sure. Sometimes I am asked why I never followed the path of the Ásatruar (despite my obvious fondness for their faith, culture & folk). My pat answer has always been that despite my strong sympathies, the Norse gods do not speak to me. Well duh. Why I never made this connection before is beyond me.
So, what to do now? Jason Miller solved his situation by renouncing his former vow & creating a "rite of apology & offering." Now, I don't know Freya all that well & although his solution sounds reasonable, my instincts tell me that this won't be a satisfactory set of reparations. I think she still wants the necklace. I think she will still want it when I am sixty, because without foresight or self awareness, my procrastinatory collegiate self made a vow without a deadline. That means it still remains in effect today, right now, as I am turning the corner on my fortieth birthday. Besides, it is dishonorable to renounce a vow that you are entirely capable of fulfilling. No, I must carry out my promise... with apologies.
I have every intention of correcting this mistake. However, outside of making sure I honor my promise, I am not sure how to proceed. What makes a proper & suitable apology? What doesn't? I am out of my element here, never having (knowingly, al least) offended any god, spirit or other entity. In fact, I am not sure I have offended the goddess in question, but it seems safest to assume that I may have. Regardless, I have no experience with this sort of thing; I am out of my element -- I am asking for advice. If you can offer counsel or guidance, or even ideas, please do. Perhaps you are close with Freya, or Norse Heathen/Ásatru or maybe you have made a similar mistake. How would you make your reparations? I await comments or messages with warm & grateful welcome.
Today, I begin anew with a babyfood jar on the altar, making public my intent... six seeds so far.
