Lara Vesta's Blog, page 7

The Runes Revealed

Three years ago I met Ingrid Kincaid through a mutual friend, the incredible womb sovereignty educator Samantha Zipporah.  I was fascinated by her relationship with the beings of my northern European ancestors, the runes, the wights, the Goddesses and Gods.  Working with Ingrid transformed my life, my perceptions and the trajectory of my own craft.  This book is the result of years of collaboration.Ingrid began commissioning my art during a very dark and difficult time in my life.  I had stopped working almost entirely as my family was displaced from our SE Portland home, our custodial situations with our children were thrown into flux, and we found ourselves in the midst of a continual, brutal transition process.The result of that time is in this book, the evolution of my own art as I worked through weeks of difficulty.  I had learned as a writer to put my emotions into my work, that the only way to survive the challenges of living is to channel them creatively.We are celebrating the fruition on June 25th here in Portland, OR with a book release party at Tabor Space on SE Belmont from 6-8pm.  I will have art for sale, and Ingrid will be reading from the book and speaking about the runes.I hope you can join us!

The Runes Revealed: Completion, Intention, Focus, Celebration

Three years ago I met Ingrid Kincaid through a mutual friend, the incrediblewomb sovereignty educator Samantha Zipporah. I was fascinated by her relationship with the beings of my northern European ancestors, the runes, the wights, the Goddesses and Gods. Working with Ingrid transformed my life, my perceptions and the trajectory of my own craft. This book is the result of years of collaboration. Ingrid began commissioning my art during a very dark and difficult time in my life. I had stopped

Thrice Burned

What do you remember about your power?Do you remember the first time you felt it, welling up, volcanic?Do you remember feeling connected, whole, certain, full?Do you remember taking effective action in the direction of your dreams?Do you remember what it felt like to own your power, clear from deviations or diversions?And/OrDo you remember the first time you were silenced, spoken over, dismissed or shamed?Do you remember feeling powerless, hopeless, weak and alone?Do you remember encountering

Thrice Burned

What do you remember about your power?Do you remember the first time you felt it, welling up, volcanic?Do you remember feeling connected, whole, certain, full?Do you remember taking effective action in the direction of your dreams?Do you remember what it felt like to own your power, clear from deviations or diversions?And/OrDo you remember the first time you were silenced, spoken over, dismissed or shamed?Do you remember feeling powerless, hopeless, weak and alone?Do you remember encountering injustice?  Systems designed to keep you small, to keep you from your wholeness?Do you remember being disempowered, in your body, in your mind, minimized, bullied or afraid?Where is your power in the life you live today?Where would you like it to be?This week I wrote a paper about the goddess Gullveig-Heid and women’s power.  What we have as evidence for Gullveig’s existence is a line from the Poetic Edda,Voluspá, where Odin wakes the Volvä from her death-rest:“Now she remembers the war,The first in the world,When GullveigWas studded with spears,And in the hall of the High OneShe was burned;Thrice burned,Thrice reborn,Often, many times,And yet she lives.”–Translation by  Dan McCoy, “Gullveig”An excerpt from the paper:"Gullveig is the source of the Aesir-Vanir war, the war between two sets of Goddesses and Gods, two spiritual cosmologies.  The abuse and burning of the Vanir goddess Gullveig incited a series of events in mythic time, so she must be important. “In the Old Norse tongue, the name Gullveig means “gold drink,” “gold trance,” or “gold power.”’[1]  The symbolism of gold in northern Europe is beautifully spoken to by Norse scholar Maria Kvilhaug: “The metal is obviously associated (in Old Norse poetry) with divine brightness, illumination within darkness, great cosmic forces and hidden wisdom.”[2]Gullveig is stabbed with spears, and three times burned, yet she emerges reborn three times as well, reborn as a different Goddess, with a different name, Heid. Lindow writes that, “In the sagas Heid is a common name for seeresses, and it is also found in a geneology…presumably giants. The adjective heid, “gleaming,” and the noun heid, “honor,” would suit nicely here as well.”[3]The result of Gullveig’s initiation through death and rebirth is the creation of a powerful feminine presence, Heid, the seeress, the practioner of seidr magic. She is associated with magic wands, or staffs, prophecy, trance and her relationship with women.  Gullveig’s transformation is remarkable for its endurance, bringing to mind the transformative initiations of the Eleusinian Mysteries, incorporating the potent magic of death and rebirth into a new cosmic order. That her treatment inspires war between the Aesir and the Vanir is seen by many scholars as reflective of invasion patterns, similar to those described by Marija Gimbutas’ Kurgan Theory. “Since the Vanir are fertility deities, the war has often been understood as the reflection of the overrunning of local fertility cults somewhere in the Germanic area by a more warlike cult, perhaps that of invading Indo-Europeans.”[1] The war ends in peace and reconciliation. From the sacrifice and initiation of Gullveig/Heid emerges a specific form of women’s magic known to the Vanir goddess Freyja. After the peace of the Aesir and the Vanir, which may provide evidence of a partnership between the divergent spiritual cosmologies."Writing about Gullveig/Heid made me think deeply about power.  About feminine power specifically, and the transformative potency of adversity, of being burned.  Heid exists in the world as a presence even larger than Gullveig, for she carries magic and prophecy with her as an aid to women.  For she was reborn.This past year I have become more aware of the lineage patterns around my power.  I believe that I carry, like many women, deep cellular memory of the burnings and abuse of my ancestors for holding female power.  This caused me for years to keep my spirituality secret, to be afraid of being public, it asked me to hide and stay small.The story of Gullveig is, according to the Volvä of the Voluspá, the earliest witch burning.But she does not die.  She survives.  More than survives, she is transformed, her power magnified, centralized.  She becomes not just golden, but brilliant.Braver, louder, more brazen than before.I woke up yesterday morning of a dream to teach a class about being Thrice Burned, about awakening the transformative power of the feminine in a circle of women.  In the spirit of teaching what I most need to learn, most need to practice, the class–available both live in Portland, Or and online, begins on the new moon July 4th.May it be a true independence day.[1] John Lindow, Norse Mythology, 53.[1] Ralph Metzner, “Freyja and the Vanir Earth Deities,” The Well of Remembrance: Rediscovering the Earth Wisdom Myths of Northern Europe, (Boston, MA: Shambhala, 1994), 166.[2] Maria Kvilhaug, “Burning the Witch! – The Initiation of the Goddess and the War of the Aesir and the Vanir,” Freyia Völundarhúsins Lady of the Labyrinth´s Old Norse Mythology Website, last update 2016, http://freya.theladyofthelabyrinth.co... John Lindow, Norse Mythology, 165.

Mapping the Wyrd

In the beginning there was a sacred thread.A thread of binding, warp and weft.A thread of binding, strand to strand.In the formation of the thread, the world.In the weaving of the thread, the wyrd.What is the wyrd? To the ancients, the Saxons, the Norse, wyrd is fate.And fate is woven.In my studies of the runes these past years two things have come clear: historical record and our dependence on quantifiable experience have left fractures in the web. A hole torn without regard for the strands.

Mapping the Wyrd

In the beginning there was a sacred thread.A thread of binding, warp and weft.A thread of binding, strand to strand.In the formation of the thread, the world.In the weaving of the thread, the wyrd.What is the wyrd?  To the ancients, the Saxons, the Norse, wyrd is fate.And fate is woven.In my studies of the runes these past years two things have come clear:  historical record and our dependence on quantifiable experience have left fractures in the web.  A hole torn without regard for the strands.  The runes are fractured pieces in this divine web of existence, as are all symbols–the symbolic language our earliest synthesis of sound and picture, image and word.There is power in that matrix.For the past two moons I have been weaving, in the long traditions of our common ancestors.Each web tells a story of a moment in time.  They are more than tools for divination, though the process looks similar.To draw them, I center in ceremony, lighting the fires, burning mugwort or cedar.I call to the sacred directions, the ancestors, my guardians and guides, divine presence.  I make an offering.And reach in to the pouch.Then, I make.I do not read the runes, exactly, but rather they tell me through the making how they wish to be in relationship.  Sometimes runes are made that were not in the original draw.And sometimes new runes are made, too.The webs become a gnosis gift for whoever receives them.  Not an answer, but a map, to follow through the synergy, to meditate with, to use as a personal symbol or guide through a particular process.An offering in honor of the fate we all share.

Living for Real

Sometimes healing takes longer than we would like.I’m from a family of pushers. We get a sense of normalcy after illness or injury and immediately jump into high gear. Anything less is sacrifice, anything less is loss. The grind of production comes from a deep, unsettled fear. Fear of instability. Fear of judgement.So this past month my body’s refusal to comply with my will to get back in action, effort my work, to be measurably useful, was a tremendous disappointment. So I pushed,

Practice

Sometimes healing takes longer than we would like.I’m from a family of pushers.  We get a sense of normalcy after illness or injury and immediately jump into high gear.  Anything less is sacrifice, anything less is loss.  The grind of production comes from a deep, unsettled fear.  Fear of instability.  Fear of judgement.So this past month my body’s refusal to comply with my will to get back in action, effort my work, to be measurably useful, was a tremendous disappointment.  So I pushed, harder.Injury.In the past week I’ve had to stop everything and rest.  Remember resting?  The art of doing nothing, not making, not reading for class, not emailing, not social media-ing, not talking on the phone or plotting new events.  Resting.This rest carried over to my very movements–walking slow, standing still, lying down were all acts of compassion.  In these actions, a gift.  I noticed things.  The drift of apple blossom petals.  Individual flowers.  The distinction between birds.  I noticed how fast I move normally through my life, how little time I devote these days to resting and paying attention, to deliberate motion, to bird song and petals.In all ways, today, I feel better.  And I have come away from this time with some lessons, crawling through my brain at first but now, fully woven.Lessons learned while healing:I am accountable for my own support.  And it is okay to ask for help.Slowness and rest are not optional.  Integration requires appreciation for other modes of being.My teacher Mara told me that in many spiritual traditions physical pain means the gods are trying to reach you.  They’ve already tried connecting with you in symbols and dreams and by emotional means–sadness, anger, joy.  Physical pain means you weren’t paying attention.  Which, I wasn’t.These lessons, along with my continued spiritual practice are weaving some new patterns. This spring is full of delicious, exciting, possible things.  Including collaborations with Ingrid Kincaid, The Rune Woman, and Charlene Murdock of Nana Cardoon Urban Farm.  More on these soon.For now, dusk comes, a day ends.  For now, this, right here, is enough.

Emerging and What I Made

February leans toward its shortened end, and it is almost time for me to emerge from this chrysalis of making. Today I feel better, more aligned, potent, possible, than I did three weeks ago. Dropping out of the social/work swim feels like I might surface amid a mess. Rescheduling classes, partially rebranded websites, promises made. But in this moment, I am clear: something has happened.This week Ingrid Kincaid’s book, The Runes Revealed, entered its proof stage. I created the three rune twirls

Emerging and What I Made

February leans toward its shortened end, and it is almost time for me to emerge from this chrysalis of making.  Today I feel better, more aligned, potent, possible, than I did three weeks ago.  Dropping out of the social/work swim feels like I might surface amid a mess.  Rescheduling classes, partially rebranded websites, promises made.  But in this moment, I am clear:  something has happened.This week Ingrid Kincaid’s book, The Runes Revealed, entered its proof stage.  I created the three rune twirls above for the book, along with illustrations for all 33 runes and the cover art. The explorations of the rune twirls led me to this:A different kind of sacred geometry.  The web of wyrd.  A rune mandala.This making became a meditation, a sacred practice over the month.  The magic of the rune mandala is that they begin with a reading, a set of runes pulled with purpose.  But as each rune is drawn, more emerge.  Some are unrecognizable.  But there is a vibration, an activity in this that feels magic to me, resonant with power.  Here are some other rune mandalas I made this month:I also made this lunar chart for a new book project:One of the concepts this chart reflects is not just cycle, but simultaneity.  Our ideas about linear progression make the acceptance of cycles challenging, but many of our ancestors lived in a world that functioned simultaneously, where the past, present and future all happened at once.It seems to me that simultaneity breaks down the efforting of dualism and linearity, allowing for strangeness, myth and magic to emerge.A month of making.  Here it is.  Sharing the work here keeps me accountable to my processes as a maker, so thank you for participating in a co-creation.Returning to bread work, I  have some great classes coming up:  new dates for Moon Divas Certification both online and live, an experiential Sacred Art || Wild Soul series at the amazing Nana Cardoon urban farm and learning center, and a Spirited : Social business visioning and invention immersion at Archangelo Studios.So the art of living continues.With love–