When I say the word Fortune, what images come to mind?
Fehu by EjLowell (DeviantArt)
What keeps coming up in what I read is “cattle”. Hmm. Cows must have been pretty important. What I read in the rune poems say,
Wealth is a comfort to all men;
yet must every man bestow it freely,
if he wish to gain honour in the sight of the Lord.
Wealth is a source of discord among kinsmen;
the wolf lives in the forest.
source of discord among kinsmen
and fire of the sea
and path of the serpent.
Feoh byþ frofur fira gehwylcum;
sceal ðeah manna gehwylc miclun hyt dælan
gif he wile for drihtne domes hleotan
Fé vældr frænda róge;
føðesk ulfr í skóge.
Fé er frænda róg
ok flæðar viti
ok grafseiðs gata
Three very different pictures of Fe. I discovered during yesterday’s frenzied trance that indeed the rune of Frey and Freya may very well be the first rune of the Futhark (or last of the Nightside, Uthark, if you be so adventurous).
So what is it? A comfort which must be bestowed freely (ie with consent)? A wolf in the forest? Discord, fire and the serpent’s path?
Be it a comfort that should not be stolen, I think of the aspect of the Goddess that is love: it must be bestowed freely, for who loves under duress? Who loves for fear of poverty? Who loves against their will?
Be it a wolf in the forest, then may this be Fortune’s scowl, the icy hand of debt, forever waiting to pull you under water, steal from you your home, happiness and livelihood!
Now, if Fe be discord, fire and the serpent’s path, than she is close to my heart. My element is fire. My animal is snake. And discord is what I write best.
I wrote of Fortune in Three Valkyries Walk Into a Mead Hall:
The vision came. Foes on both sides of the police barrier were falling, screaming, brandishing chains, struggling against officers, struggling against each other. Pipes were flung, and bodies tackled bodies in the mud. Parents knew their children weren’t home yet. Cameras captured takedowns onto the darkening cement walks of Government Street. Flash snapshots instantly fed images of damp civilians in cuffs being hustled into police vans to social media sites now broadcasting to the world. A province was ablaze, soaked in fearful rain. Sven saw everything in that moment, and he shook for the tawdry devastation of escalated violence called a revolution by each half of a beleaguered brain. Sven saw all of Earth shaking, bouncing off every other rock in the Solar System, the dark mistress of Fortune sitting on top of the mass of land and water with legs crossed, wearing a shrewd smile and preparing investment options for the few who licked their lips at the divided province: investors, lobbyists, partisan heads, weapons manufacturers and media moguls. She looked at Sven as he looked at her. Hey kid, she said with a wink. Never bring a knife to a gunfight.
What of this Fortune, of this Fehu? Fortune was the vision of my dream last night.
First, the trek: I warded a circle around myself and Mal, which, if you’ve been following, you know is the cottonwood not protected by this town’s paladins. Yes, this town I live in actually has paladins. I wouldn’t be able to say that with a straight face, I’m sorry.
I then discovered something. My orientation has been all wrong! I was facing East and calling it North!
Okay, you can stop snickering now.
Anyhow, I realized my mistake and corrected myself. It was somewhat symbolic. I feel like I’ve been facing East (that is, thinking of my previous home in South Korea) for some time (see my first few posts). It makes perfect sense. My initial training was in yoga (ashtanga), tai chi, meditation, templestays, satsang and kirtan. Totally facing East. Now I’m ready to face North.
After this incredible realization, I returned to my residence and immediately did my Northern meditations. I should mention that I have other meditations sitting around… let me find one:
That comes from a popular stav book by Tauring.
I fell asleep, and woke up without anything written in my dream diary.
Instead, I had a perfectly clear memory of my dreamworld. This is what I wrote:
This dream was a trek through Victoria with my childhood best friend. We were looking at places to start businesses. One in particular was a subterranean development. Somehow we were connected to the main character in the poem. The character was wearing a monocle and top hat. Another man descended the stairs of the subterranean shop, opened the door, opened a business, and within minutes, he was flat broke with bankruptcy, and he turned his sign closed. The man with the monocle walked into the shop next door, and found it full of garbage. He sued the seller for $20,000 for reasons that it was bought “as new”, but sold “as is”. The man in the top hat thrived thereafter, and a poem was told in a narrator’s voice.
There was a man who rented a flat as new
But when he got it it was quite as is
So he sued for twenty thousand dollars, which
Was probably the wrong thing to do
First off, how about that slant-rhyme scheme? CREEPY. That’s actually never happened to me in a dream before.
- The common myth of “frivolous lawsuits”: not as common as one might be led to believe
- The ominous reality of STARTUP CAPITAL. Dreams are pretty, but assets beget assets.
- Poetic narration: I certainly need more poetry in my life.
- Why am I thinking about business now? I thought I had devoted my life to education!
Food for thought. Well, time to turn dreams into reality.
Aslithar Alle, Valhallar Visir,