Musings From the Mossy Trail

Winter Nights

It is nearing midnight and a crisp Autumn wind chills the air. She clutches her wrap tightly and, though her old joints creak in protest, she presses forward.  Her destination is not much farther. Just beyond the Oaks along the wooded path – thirteen feet at most.

The forest floor is thick with moss and cushions her footsteps. She reaches the sacred mound, shakes out a thick blanket and pauses while listening to the howl of a lone wolf. From the corner of her eye, there is movement and light; they are here.

She stands in silence, just as she had as a young girl, beside her grandmother; and then as a woman, alongside her mother and her own daughter who crossed much too young. But on this night, before those who are named and those whose names were lost with time, she is reunited.

Some retain the beauty they had in life, some are hags and some are hardly more than bones, with long silver hairs billowing in the moonlight, though collectively they form the cosmic womb. Tears of love spill from her eyes as she basks in the knowledge that she is finally taking her place among them.

—

Winter Nights, or old Norse Vetrnætr, occurs in mid October and is a celebration to honor the Disir, female ancestral spirits who have crossed to the Otherworld. For traditionally, in Scandinavian lore it is the women who are the protectors of the family line. One such example tells of two Disir, Thorgerd and Irpa from the clan Hladhr:

These disir had an elaborate temple of their own and fought beside

their kinsmen in battle by appearing in the sky shooting darts of hail

from their fingertips. (Njal’s Saga 88, Saga of the Jomsvikings, and     Skaldskarpamal. See Simek pp. 326-7.)

The Disir aid in childbirth, death and crossing over, and maintain the intricate  patterns that weave the sagas through generations. They are the voices of guidance, the whispers of consciousness, cunning, wise. They share in our greatest victories and bring comfort in our deepest sorrows. It is in their honor that we tell their stories, hail their names, known or not, and repay their gifts with offerings and devoted attention.

Though they are always close, as in the Celtic Samhain, it is at this time, when the earth turns to darkness, that the veil between the worlds thins. This phenomena greatly enhances our ability to communicate with the dead, and they to us, whether it be through inner silence, visitation, runes, tarot or other means of divination.

This is a time to turn your attention inward, to make amends, to complete that which is left undone. A time for lavish feasts, for toasting and boasting the deeds of those glorious women who came before us, and to pay homage in advance for their continued endurance and support as they help to carry us through the coming winter.

May we always honor their unending strength and love.