Rite of Oneiric Insight, Part 1: General Outline

"Greek Dream" by Jacqueline Kurfürst of DeviantArt.

It is nothing but incredible that I (somehow, by some providence) made this happen before the deadline I set (in a vow of sorts) arrived.

And because I am in the habit of bogging down all my ceremonial documentation with colossal amounts of detail, I am going to begin with an outline of pertinent bits, lest I lose track of things in a rabbit hole along the way... 

The short version of the story is this: there is nothing in the ancient calendars to follow if one wishes to observe a special period of observation for the Oneiroi. So I decided that National Sleep Awareness Week, as established by the National Sleep Foundation was just perfect. Last year it was March 3-10 & I just flailed. Or wasn't ready. Or something. So I vowed to get it figured out by this year.

And here we are. National Sleep Awareness Week: March 2-8, 2015. 

Last night I hosted the first of many (I hope) ceremonies I entitled: "Rite of Oneiric Insight" which I confess isn't the most imaginative name, but it gets to the point. 

This rite has two purposes: 1) to offer respect & gratitude to the gods/spirits of the House of Sleep & their mother Nyx & 2) to request their favor in the form of illuminating &/or prophetic dreams. 

I borrowed ideas from a slew of sources including Duncan Barford, Jody Whiteley & Robert Moss to name a few. And, if I get to the details, I will give all the various sources their due recognition. But for now, just the essentials (my actual rough outline/recordkeeping for this rite):


Rite of Oneiric Insight

General Outline:

Guest arrival & briefing.
Cleansing. (Wash hands and face)
Light lamp or candle, recite Orphic Hymn to Nyx. (Translated by Apostolos N. Athanassakis, 1977)
Light incense.

Make personal supplications &/or thanksgivings.
Libation & hypnagogic tea/elixir.
Visualization with Orphic Hymn to the Oneiroi. (Adapted from Kimberly Nichols, 2013)
Cartomancy.
Closing & direction for Personal Sleep Ceremony.
Extinguish lamp or candle.

Direction for at home procedure:

Personal Sleep Ceremony: 
Light candle.
Recite Orphic Hymn to Sleep. (Translated by Apostolos N. Athanassakis, 1977) 
Extinguish candle.
Morning journaling. (Communication, if desired)

Preparations:

(4) Face towels & washcloths w/soaps, moisturizer
Candle, incense & offerings
(4) Small (approx. 4 oz.) Drinking Horns 
Hypnagogic “Elixir” (herbal formula prepared in advance)
Visualization script
Deck of cards for divination — 2 faces: Gate of Horn, Gate of Ivory
(4) Dream Journals
Pamphlets containing Orphic hymns & ceremony outline
(4) Extra sheets with Orphic Hymn #3 to Nyx
(4) Muslin bags to contain: Clary Sage steeped cotton squares, mugwort herb (optional) 
(4) Beeswax & poppy seed offering candles

Music:
Foretold in the Language of Dreams, Natacha Atlas (during introductions, preparation, pre-visualization)
8 Hours Relaxation Music Sleep Study Meditation and Good Dreams, Jody Whiteley (during visualization/guided journey)

Set/Setting:
I used the living room of the Agora, our community center (a community-funded single bedroom apartment). The setting was intentionally cozy, my partner called it "opium den-ish." There was no "shrine" or "altar" proper, per se -- only a ribbon candle & an offering bowl. (I consciously decided not to bring my statue of Nyx because I didn't feel that imposing my own image of the goddess was appropriate to this very individual experience. I later received the feedback from one attendee that she would have liked to have had the icon present.)

Attendance:
The number of attendees was strictly limited. Everyone who attended was "prescreened" as it were, by a letter stating the expectations & intent very clearly. This was my way of getting around the concern that people might attend out of spectator-desire versus a genuine interest in dreamwork &/or developing a relationship with the House of Sleep. 


Images of the pamphlets can be found below. I will make the printable PDF file available via Google Drive in the near future. I will also post images of the cards used for divination, the visualization script as well as share my reflections... time willing. 

"Rite of Oneiric Insight" pamphlet, outside panels

"Rite of Oneiric Insight" pamphlet, inside panels

Now, to dance.

For the Files: Autumn Equinox, Community Style

Freyja, by Arthur Rackham
image courtesy Wikimedia Commons

Below is a much abbreviated documentation of our community Autumn Equinox rite. For the files.

Our community Autumn Equinox was celebrated in the Norse tradition of Hausblot, or Fallfest. I attended alone, much to my discomfort, but this particular celebration was not developed/adapted for children & my familiarity with these rites told me that the presence of our children would not be in keeping with the intent of this event. I knew however, despite my conflicting feelings, that of any & all the celebrations hosted by our pan-pagan family, this would be the one which would most speak to me personally.

My pagan roots were set among the Ásatrúar -- their rites are familiar, stirring, honest & potent. It has sometimes mystified me how I never came to embrace Norse Heathenry, but when I examine things fairly, I know that while their values, rites, lifeways & traditions draw me, their cosmology & more importantly, their gods do not. 

The event was planned & coordinated by our community's sole Norse devotee. It began with a blót* in honour of Odin, followed by a wonderful, warm feast. In certain regards, the blót seemed more formal & involved than the blóts-of-yore, but I think some of this is due to selective memory, while some of it is probably because this event was developed for a diverse & public audience. It seems to me my friends-of-yore were much louder too... in fact, I am sure of that, but we were a great deal younger then, a bit more rowdy & much more vociferous. Regardless of how memory matches reality, I must give kudos to Shanley for an artfully developed rite & in particular, for his verse & how he represented our house fires in this ritual. It was very beautiful, symbolically & literally. 

There was some song practice following the feast & we were blessed to have our talented & multilingual songstress sing the verses of Herr Mannelig for us so that we might only struggle with the refrain. I had the luck of being seated beside her & I had one of those moments of utter awe & appreciation for the gifts of our human faculties... the gifts of community too. 

A sumbel* followed feasting & song practice. This was a long rite, lasting nine rounds & two, maybe closer to three hours (not the longest in Heathen history, I am certain!) before we needed to end -- possibly prematurely for some -- due to time & other commitments. There is little I can share about what transpired. All speech in sumbel is sacred speech & it is not my place to repeat it.

I went to this event knowing that I would need to address my outstanding debt to Freyja. I decided to bring some of my apple seeds & restate my oath. I also wanted to read a poem in Her honour -- on behalf of myself & Heather Awen -- so I made certain that this would be in keeping with our host's intentions for the sumbel. It was an honour both to publicly extol Her before my tribe & to represent the voice of someone who has given me a great deal of inspiration. 

I chose a poem written by Hoen Falker of the Visigoth Tradition, Clan Falker & translated by Solange Stanquini. English is obviously not the first language of the author, nor do I believe it is that of the translator, so the poem has some translational idiosyncrasies. However, I found it so beautiful, so moving, that I chose to use it despite a few uncertain lines. I made a handful of small adjustments to assists the flow, but otherwise the poem is as I found it here: Chant to Freyja. My thanks to the author for such a sincere, emotive piece. 

Hail Freyja!

Poem in Honour of Freyja by Hoen Falker

Oh, loved goddess of Elfos, Humans & Valquiras,
that in the starry night,
reigns with replete kindness!
At the thresholds of the world
dressed of hawk
You overstep
giving a present with talents
the treasures where You pass through!
In the shining lands & meadows of the whole people,
celestial fire
it's her glance at rest.
Prostrated, to You I offer
amber & flowers,
tears & laughter.
For my Lady,
the clamours.
Show us,
the human homes in Your mesh.
Mounted on Her high boar,
She helps in the battles.
Your illuminated face in the winds of the heights
for who the fire,
front to the ice,
is like softness.
She is Lady,
of felines & hawks.
My ancestral Ones live close to You.
The half of my songs,
I offer to You.
Oh! Glorious!!
To You I offer
a burning fire of memory.
You are goddess Freyja,
of the Vanires,
the most beautiful woman!
The arches of Your eyes
like wings of swans.
A star.
Your eyes are sunny emerald seas.
Your red mouth is our blood on contemplated snow.
When falls the afternoon,
You become an invisible shine,
for Your destroyed lovers.
To choose,
for You my more beautiful desires,
I will order for the enchantments
intoning rage
& I will see then of the lonely death.
I will wake up.
It will be Your smiling
with all your beloved damsels...
The discovery of your forests
will bring the rain
& to my inert, cold body,
the life will return.

* There are many sources for information regarding the rites & traditions of the Ásatrúar, most of which I am sure are quite excellent. I chose Raven Kindred Online because it actually represents the spirit of my pagan family "of yore." Its authors were among my people & their ways were how I came to understand Ásatrú. You can find the rest of them (almost) at Raven Kindred North.

Altars & Mushrooms & Other Revelations (Nomad Week I)

When I wrote the "In-Betweens" post (Sciento-Paganism, Entry 2: In Between), I made liberal use of other people's words to illustrate the experience of being a spiritual "In Between." One of the quotes I used was from the author Dianne Sylvan:

"Spirituality is an ever-evolving thing, and while some folk can do that within the structure of one religion... some of us always have a weather eye on the horizon.  We learn a bit here, and a bit there, and gather tools and souvenirs from every tradition we visit, but ultimately we prefer to keep on walking and do our own thing...  I found that, when I could no longer reasonably call myself Wiccan, I was sort of floating in the Sea of Muddled Eclecticism, and I had to tread water for quite a while." -- from Becoming a Spiritual Nomad

I took this quote from her "Becoming A Spiritual Nomad" E-Course summary. Having once called myself "Wiccan" (also later finding the term lacking), her statement strongly resonated with my own experiences & my spiritual progression out of "formal" (if one could ever call it that) tradition & into the open wilderness of spiritual meanderings.  After much consideration, deliberation & procrastination, I decided that taking her course would be an appropriate first step in following through with Goal # 4 of my spiritual "Will Do" list. 

The baby ate my homework.

The first week's exercises contain two parts, both of which have been very revealing in very different ways. One part involves taking an inventory of your personal history. I have not liked this exercise. I delayed beginning the project & when I finally carried it out, I did it in a sloppy, haphazard way. Then, I watched The Changeling eat it. When my aghast Hubby pointed out that the baby had mangled & disappeared part of the assignment, I said, "Yep." I think that says something.

The other part of this week's exercises involves altars. This assignment suggested that folks with altars disassemble them (those without altars were one step ahead) & in their place, establish a simple, streamlined altar. Finally, we were instructed to complete a regular meditation before the revamped altar-of-simplicity. 

Crow Bells with Freya's seeds.

Already, I was hung up on the altar. Some of the time we keep a family altar -- or perhaps more accurately, shrine  -- to mark the passing of the seasons together. On occasion, we have purpose-specific "altars," (like the Crow-Bell "altar" filled with bells for signaling crows when we toss bread & treats for them) or impromptu, spontaneous, "organic" shrines (say, in the yard, unintentionally on a shelf, or left on a wandering). Our family's seasonal altar/shrine involves collecting objects from outdoors, special occasions, etc. & arranging, rearranging & ultimately removing them. This altar is open to everyone in the family. It morphs with the seasons & passing of events, ever-changing, endlessly recycling. It is a place where sometimes workings are done, but it is not a place where I personally connect with divinity. 

I talked about this assignment with Hubby. He suggested I use the Crow-Bell altar. I felt that the kitchen was the last place I wanted to meditate on the divine, unless I was cooking. Cooking is a great time to meditate, but sitting on the floor in the kitchen facing a shelf is not. 

I considered the woodstove, recalling a really lovely post about the magick of fire written by a blogger friend. Our woodstove is our primary heat source & is in many ways, the heart of our home. Yet when I envisioned sitting or lying before the fire in an attempt to get deep with the universe, it conjured images of the rest of the family around the corner; ever-busy, ever-noisy, ever-interrupting & the cats... oh, the cats... sauntering in to disturb the peace with scritchy-scratch destruction. 

Besides, I was still hung up on the whole idea of sitting in front of an altar at all. So I asked myself why.

This was helpful & ultimately brought forth a memory which in retrospect, marked a significant turning point on my spiritual journey (although at the time I didn't recognize it as such). 

For starters, I have never been to church. Ever. Well, I think I went once with a friend after a sleepover, but that's it. The entire idea of getting high on "God" indoors is pretty foreign to me. However, put me on the edge of a cliff overlooking a ravine or the ocean, throw me into a thunderstorm or into the bowels of a cave & my head will swim with transcendental reverb.

As I considered this more deeply, I recalled an event which probably forever killed the indoor altar experience for me. It turns out this was also my first lesson from my mycological muses. (Who knew? I sure didn't.) 

Fiddlehead ferns, courtesy WikiCommons.

Way back in my "baby-Pagan" days, I went on a Psilocybe-guided adventure to the creek just beyond the potato field behind my townhouse. There, I sat by the water & discovered that I had (temporarily, alas) learned the language of plants. With great joy, I prattled on for hours with the fiddleheads whose jovial, light-hearted conversation I found preferable to that of the more stoic & reserved trees. I stayed there until the Sun began to sink below the horizon, forcing me indoors for warmth, light & safe harbor from the mosquitos. 

I had had such a wonderful, mystical experience outside in the shelter of the trees, listening to the plants, that I went to my altar in an effort to prolong the communion. What I found there was a bunch of stuff -- voiceless, spiritless stuff. I was profoundly disturbed & painfully disappointed. I gazed across a landscape of carefully selected, painstakingly organized "sacred" items & could see nothing but mute, impotent objects. It was terrible.

All those special, symbolic things -- the things I tended to so carefully, so lovingly arranged atop the hard-sided suitcase that my Grandmama once carried -- were suddenly just stuff. Worse still, when I woke the following morning, headache-stricken & miserable (but sober), it was all still just stuff. Weeks passed & my altar never reclaimed the sacred quality it once had. Without the heart to remove it, I let it collect dust. It was permanently, irrevocably, stuff.

I have never attempted spiritual communion before an altar since.

So, given the exercise, what could I do?

Snow-dusted cliffs of Breakfast Canyon.

I looked to my regular Solar & Lunar "devotionals" for the answer & realized that at least when we are in our desert home, the "altar" is unarguably to the East. It is our beloved "Breakfast Canyon" & no special ornamentation, embellishments or improvements are needed. It is the rockbed from which our Sun & Moon rise & its cliffs are the last faces they shine upon as they slip away from view. As a dedicant of Nature, I cannot imagine a better place of communion than outside, before this canyon.

I began my meditations on the night of the full Moon. My altar was perfect & the experience sublime. (I wrote about it in (Snow) Moonrise Over Mother & Child.) Each night has been different. Each one a lesson, a gift, although not always perfect or sublime. I hope to write more about these experiences & also some of the questions posed in the assignments, but now, I must sleep. 

DianneSylvan.com

Game of Tag

For the most part, I have been avoiding the blogopshere events like blog parties, follow me's, contests, etc. There are two principal reasons for this: 1) Oftentimes, I just cannot relate to the prompts &/or I don't have enough time to think deeply & formulate a response. This is directly related to the more important issue, 2) I do not want to compromise the quality of my posts/blog by pumping out volumes of responses in order to keep up with the herd -- this is the primary reason I opted not to join a very interesting, very popular new blog project in which some of my personal friends are participating. In a way, I feel a bit left out, but I must do this my way. Black sheep. Always.

That said, I have difficulty turning down a personal request & I received two of these blog playground "tags" which I was going to politely decline, but then I reconsidered. Kourtney over at the Multi-Faceted Experience & Maglay over at Pagan Culture both "tagged" me this week, & after reading Maglay's rule-breaking approach, I figured I could oblige them a response in my own fashion.

Let us begin with the rules. I am not fond of such things, especially during playtime, so they're out. We were supposed to begin with 11 random things about ourselves. I am opting to follow the wisdom of my 2nd Grade Language Arts Workbook & Reader entitled, "Seven is Magic." (Funny how some things just stay with you after so many years.) I've decided to take seven things I have said about myself so thus far in this blog. As it happens, I began this project nearly seven short months ago, so I'll venture to take one for each month. It could be interesting (at least to me), so let the exercise in narcissism begin!

• I think more than I can write: "I have scraps of writing littering my bed & bedside; lists of things to investigate later, short reflections on a moment, unfinished thoughts, notations from pages upon pages of books..." from Scraps: Disgust on a 3x5 Card

• I talk to slime moulds: "I would have passed her by, thinking her some kind of human refuse, had she not hailed me as she postured along the creekside like a Las Vegas showgirl... Simultaneously appalled & awestruck, I realized that this was actually something living -- I had heard right, she did holler at me." from Wandering: A Mystery with the Most Vivid Colour

• I have unfulfilled promises on my conscience: "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..." from Thoughts While Nursing: With Apologies to Freya

• I am envious of those more feral than me: "West Virginia has always been, to my mind, a place of mystery, folklore & strange knowledge tucked away in unfamiliar, dark hills. I had a friend in college who was raised somewhere in that mysterious place... every time she spoke of her childhood in West Virginia, she started turn feral right before your eyes. I was so jealous." from Transforming "Spiritual Warfare": Day 16 (West Virginia)

• I will do anything to get the right shot of a Moonrise: "Me -- muttering to the Moon while neighbors & motorists glance at me askance -- wading through backyards, tripping over snowbanks, clinging to the overpass to capture Her arrival." -- from Full Moon Pie

• I talk to canyons too... everyday, in fact: "The canyon I greet every morning shares the same shades as French toast at this time of day, in this overcast light. I have no name for it -- official or otherwise -- the ravine of my morning ritual, this old & familiar friend... perhaps I shall call it Breakfast Canyon." -- from Liberty, Liberté

• I compulsively question the underlying relationships of everything: "I would argue that this "question-asking" is essential to the pursuit of spiritual development & awareness. It is an avenue, a channel, a path to the mysteries & to the gods. It is not the only way, but it is a vital one." -- from Sciento-Paganism, Entry I: The Mystery of Relationship

As if that wasn't enough, the game goes on (!) with 11 questions, written by the "tagger" to be answered by the "tag" recipient. I decided to play pick-&-choose from Kourtney's (very nice) list of 11 & Maglay's handful of links (she opted not to write an list herself --  & I will be following her example!) I chose seven questions  that I thought could be answered in a thoughtful manner, or might have some relevance to Paganism, spirituality, etc. 

1. Do you have a favorite quote or mantra? What is it? Yes. A line found in a couple of books written by Patricia Geary (Strange Toys & either The Other Canyon or Guru Cigarettes -- not sure which). It is, to me, something of a mantra, or at least an enduring reminder: "Ennui is the death of the only soul worth having." 
2. Name the first word or image that comes to mind. My Mac's desktop homage to Herne: digital artwork created by myself using an personal image of the Moon & a photo of a sculpture created by DeviantArt contributor Jewel-lilet. 



Herne with Lady Luna.

3. What is your favorite spell, if any?  I don't really have a "favourite" but, I am very fond of improv spells such as the one spontaneously created by my Little Lad this past fall. See Children Are Naturals (A Healing for Baby B)
4. What is your favourite smell? The scent of the high desert after a rain.   
5. What is your favorite herb? Desert Sagebrush (Artemesia Tridentata), for being the primary source of the answer to question 4.
6. What is the weirdest movie you have ever seen? Juan Moctezuma's "Mansion de la Locura/Mansion of Madness" which is very loosely based on the Edgar Allen Poe story, The System of Dr. Tarr & Prof. Fether. Moctezuma was a Mexican B-movie director who had an incredible (& incredibly bizarre) imagination. He also created one of one of my favourite films, Alucarda. Both films are rife with pagan themes, although not necessarily flattering in their depictions. That's ok with me because I have a sense of humour. I was going to provide an imbedded trailer for Mansion of Madness here, but it is filled with sexual violence, run-of-the-mill violence, inexplicable weirdness, gratuitous nudity & general mayhem, all terribly out of context. Since I don't have an adult filter on my blog, I don't really want to be responsible for upsetting, offending, disturbing folks... or their children. So, here's a pretty picture instead:   



Image from Mondo Esoterica. Film trailer found here.

7. What is your favorite movie? The Wicker Man (1973). If for no other reason than this scene:

...a stirring adaptation of a poem by Walt Whitman which speaks very directly & personally to my soul.

I think I could turn and live with animals, they are
so placid and self - contain'd,
I stand and look at them long and long. 

They do not sweat and whine about their condition,
They do not lie awake in the dark and weep for their sins,
They do not make me sick discussing their duty to God,
Not one is dissatisfied, not one is demented with the
mania of owning things,
Not one kneels to another, nor to his kind that lived
thousands of years ago,
Not one is respectable, or unhappy over the whole earth. 

So they show their relations to me and I accept them,
They bring me tokens of myself, they evince them plainly in their possession.

Well, frightening as it might seem, the game continues... but I have had quite enough of the game & myself. With that, I conclude this game of "Tag" & say goodnight. (None of you shall be tagged! I am sparing you all the nonsense & self-indulgence... Although it was thought provoking to read thru the past few months of entries, I think I would be better off sleeping.)

Thoughts While Nursing: With Apologies to Freya

"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:

"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.