Introduction
As a Reconstructionst Heathen,
I take the Runes seriously. Certainly,
our Norse ancestors did. Odin sacrificed himself, hanging for nine days, in
order to grasp the keys to their use.
In the Havamal ("Sayings
of the High One"), Stanza 144, we read,
"Do you know how to write
them? Do you know how to read them? Do you know how to paint them? Do you know
how to test them? Do you know how to ask them? Do you know how to bless them?
Do you know how to send them? Do you know how to offer them?" (Trans. by
Crawford)
There has long been passionate
discussion among heathens as to various aspects of using runes. It is inarguable that runes were used for
magical purposes, according to the lore. Using them for divination is more
controversial, with some even claiming that using runes simply meant “writing
words.” It is my firm belief that both
the lore and historical sources point to their use beyond mere writing. When The Havamal asks, “Do you know how to
test them? Do you know how to ask them? Do you know how to bless them?,” it is
clear that something more is going on than writing a word. Having said that, expressing an actual word –
whether orally or in writing – carried significant weight in ancient society. Whether
a spoken Oath in Norse culture, or a geis placed on someone in Gaelic
culture – words mattered.
In the Saga of the Volsungs, Brynhild provides
interesting history and context for the use of runes, when she advises the hero
Sigurd:
“You should carve victory-runes if you want to have victory. Carve some on the
hilt of your sword, carve some on the middle of your blade also, some elsewhere
on the sword, and name Tyr twice.”
Indeed, there are numerous gravestones in Sweden that bear a
double-Tiwaz, the rune of Tyr.
Brynhild continues, and names the places runes were carved:
“…on the wheel of the chariot of Thor, on the reigns of Sleipnir, on the reins
of his sled.” And while some dismiss these
as mere words (as opposed to single runes used magically), she names other
places, including a fingernail, the beak of an owl, and on a pine needle.
“All of them that were carved,
Were then shaved off,
And they were stirred into the holy mead,
And sent far away;
Some are with the Aesir,
Some are with the elves,
Some are with the Vanir,
And mortal men have some.”
Saga of the Volsungs, Chapter 20
On one hand, Runes should not be dismissed as some
modern new agey woo-woo; but on the other, neither should they be used as casual toys to take out and play with at a sleepover for
giggles. They do not operate the same as Tarot Cards or Ouija boards. They are
not inanimate tools.
"Runes are far more than a simple method of
divination or even a system of magic. At their core, they are living keys to
accessing and working the Wyrd, but even this function only barely touches on
their true nature. The runes are alive. It is not enough to simply cast them;
at the higher levels, one must realize that they have an instinct and intellect
all their own, and a very potent will. ...this is something that most people
who work with runes don’t realize. They're sentient." (Krasskova, Runes: Theory and Practice, 2009)
Choosing The Raw Material
Each practitioner needs to decide
for themselves how they will make their runes; what each one represents; and,
while drawing on the experience of others, relying on their own relationship
with their own runes. I personally believe that natural materials are best,
such as bone, stones, wood, and seashells. The historian Tacitus, writing circa
98 CE, describes casting lots as a practice used by the Germanic tribes as
follows:
"To divination and casting
of lots, they pay attention beyond any other people. Their method of casting
lots is a simple one: they cut a branch from a fruit-bearing tree and divide it
into small pieces which they mark with certain distinctive signs and scatter at
random onto a white cloth. Then, the priest of the community if the lots are
consulted publicly, or the father of the family if it is done privately, after
invoking the gods and with eyes raised to heaven, picks up three pieces, one at
a time, and interprets them according to the signs previously marked upon
them." (Germanica, chapter 10.)
Various
translations of Tacitus’ passage above differ as to the actual meaning of “fruit-bearing
tree;” some translate it as “nut-bearing,” and still others as “seed-bearing.” A broad reading would suggest that the wood
of almost any tree would do, although intriguingly, Ash (cYggdrasil is thought to
be an Ash), Holly, Aspen, Cedar, and Willow are all dioecious, meaning that
there are separate mail and female trees, and only female trees bear fruit,
nuts, or seeds of any kind.
Historically, Norse farmers identified one tree on their property as the “Warden
Tree;” this was a special tree, under whose roots was believed to dwell the farm’s
land spirits. It was forbidden to cut a limb or harm this tree in any way.
We have such a tree on our property.
In the middle of our lawn stands a huge Black Walnut Tree. In the summer, its limbs become so heavy with leaves (and nuts), that the branches bend down to the ground and form a canopy, one of our favorite places to escape to and sit and relax with an ale or glass of wine in the heat. This tree is the focal point of our farm. We make gallons of black walnut wood stain from the hulls of the nuts that drop each fall, and return the nuts to the red squirrels who have taken up residence here. Black Walnut is a unique tree, in that it produces a natural chemical, juglone, in all parts of the tree. It is poisonous to most non-native plants, but most native plants have no problem co-existing with it. Its almost as if the Black Walnut is saying, “if you don’t belong here – get out!”
I would have loved to have made my runes out of walnut – but as our “Warden tree,” there is no way I was going to cut a branch to do so. We have a second, slightly smaller walnut tree right next to it, but its branches are quite high off the ground and large, and it wasn’t practical to cut. I had pretty much decided that I would use the wood from a young Ash at the front of our house - which needed to come down anyway.
And then, this spring, we had a powerful late snowstorm, and a huge limb from the second walnut tree came crashing down. It remained attached to the tree by a small strip of bark, and remarkably, began putting out buds this week, but the branch needed to be removed. And in so doing, I now had living wood from a nut-bearing tree. My material was chosen for me by the forces of nature around us.
Slicing
the Wood into Discs
I took a three-foot section of the branch that had a uniform diameter of about 1 ¾ inches.
Using a wire brush, I cleaned off the branch (which was covered in lichen and moss on one side), being careful not to unduly damage the bark. Then we trotted off to the workshop in the garage, and using the chopsaw, began carefully slicing the branch into discs. I made many more than I needed (I need 24 for the Elder Futhark, and ended up with over 50), adjusting slightly on thickness as I went. 3/8” thickness seems to be about perfect. Later, I will be picking through them and choosing the most uniform set I can create, without blemishes or subtle cracks in the wood.
