The Northern Path

The National Geographic Channel will be showing a documentary on the Staffordshire Hoard tonight called “Lost Gold of the Dark Ages.” I’m looking forward to it with a mixture of eager anticipation and some puzzlement.

Apparently the show is going to include a “pagan” Saxon ritual, and the assistant producer’s blog on how they went about staging the ritual makes for some strange reading:

Dr. Kevin Leahy told me that Saxon Paganism was likely to be dark, atmospheric, and spooky, so that’s what we decided to aim for.

We all finally assembled in a woodland to film the ritual. We’d brought a macabre collection of skulls and animal skins with us, and we decorated the trees.

… With lots of smoke from the smoke machine, we began the ceremony.

The business with the smoke and skulls sounds more like a Korpiklaani show than a documentary, and I’m wondering how “dark” their portrayal of the so-called Dark Ages will be. But this program is still a must-see for me: it’s a chance to learn more about the Staffordshire Hoard, and to see the Regia Anglorum reenactment group in action.

I’d love to hear other people’s reactions to the show.

I’m lucky enough to live in an area that is frequented by ravens. When I first moved here there were times when I would go outside because I felt restless and confused, and when I cast my eyes upward I was sometimes rewarded by the sight of a raven (or occasionally two) flying overhead.

I especially remember one time when I was out walking my dog and a raven flew over, circled overhead as if to check us out and then sped off.  Another time when the dog and I were skijoring in the same area, I could hear the ravens quorking to one another nearby, as if they were discussing the unusual spectacle.

These encounters with ravens seemed special and exciting, and I couldn’t help wondering if I could consider them as omens, or as messengers of some sort. As a Heathen Humanist from a scientific family I try to avoid a lot of magical thinking, especially the kind where the world is supposed to revolve around me. Still, the thought was there and would not go away.

I decided that the best thing to do would be to learn more about ravens, and I read Ravens in Winter by zoologist and animal behavior expert Bernd Heinrich. There I learned that among their many hunting and scavenging strategies, ravens apparently follow wolves so they can feed off their kills. A biologist in Alaska reported the following:

The only instance of a raven ever closely approaching me as I was hiking through the study area was the one occasion when I had a dog with me; it resembled a wolf very closely. … It would seem advantageous for ravens to keep close contact with wolves, especially during winter when daylight is so limited in the Arctic.

We do not have wolves here but we have coyotes, and my Siberian Husky looks a lot like an Eastern Coyote. So in a sense my feeling that the raven was checking us out was probably true — but he was not interested in me, he was interested in my dog!

Now I’ve seen more of them over the years, and noticed that they tend to fly in certain patterns, often from north to south above our small valley. Repeated observation has made me realize that their flights are not omens: they are out flying in regular hunting patterns, searching for food, just trying to make a living like the rest of us. Nothing magical about it.

It’s certainly a pleasure to be able to learn more about them by observing them in their natural habitat, a privilege not everyone has. But when I gained this knowledge, I lost something: a sense of connection, a sense that the movements of time and nature and animals have meaning.

Perhaps there is a larger pattern or power at work, that makes the raven leave its nest at just that time and fly over me and my dog, sometimes issuing a friendly quork. Or perhaps the ravens just have their own agenda.

At a Yule gathering on the Eve of the Solstice we all hailed Sunna, and the dedicated people kept vigil until sunrise. I feel an additional need to celebrate now: with the days getting perceptibly longer, I find myself rejoicing every day at Her return. Yet as a rational person I can’t help second-guessing the need to do this — surely I should know that the light will return on schedule?

My sense of spirituality is very deeply connected to seasonal cycles, but since I was raised Orthodox Secular Humanist I still feel a sense of embarassment about this, as though it is something that the human race really should have outgrown by now. Even in the sixth century A.D., the ulta-civilized historian Procopius takes the natives of Thule to task for their irrational exuberance at the return of the sun, which they should have realized would happen every year:

And when a time amounting to thirty-five days has passed in this long
night, certain men are sent to the summits of the mountains–for this is
the custom among them–and when they are able from that point barely to
see the sun, they bring back word to the people below that within five
days the sun will shine upon them. And the whole population celebrates a
festival at the good news, and that too in the darkness. And this is the
greatest festival which the natives of Thule have; for, I imagine, these
islanders always become terrified, although they see the same thing
happen every year, fearing that the sun may at some time fail them
entirely. (History of the Wars VI, trans. H.B. Dewing, courtesy of Project Gutenberg)

Of course Procopius never went through a Northern winter. I think my “primitive” Northern ancestors had the right idea after all, so I will join them and celebrate, rationality be damned. Hail, Sunna!

I’m still thinking about what to get people for Yule. Several artisans have websites showing their wares:

• Beautiful things from Urweg
• Original jewelry by Weylandsdottir
• Jewelry and Viking goods from Ragweed Forge. I’m very partial to the Birka glassware.

The Scandinavian retailers also have quite a few “Viking” objects inspired by Norse design. So far my favorite is the Viking spiral bottle stopper by Sigvat Designs, pictured at the left. Sigvat has also created a handsome set of wine charms.

The Tokheim pottery caught my eye, especially the beer mug with horse motif, pictured at right. If I’m feeling flush, I might also get someone the Hnefatafl set. Still, it’s not necessary to go out and spend a lot of money — handmade items, homemade preserves and CD music mixes also make great gifts, and they’re sure to be one of a kind.

True confessions time: I didn’t expect to like this movie. Video games and gratuitous bloodshed bore me to tears, and the trailers and the buzz led me to expect quite a lot of both. However, the storytelling and acting (yes, acting) are good enough to carry the movie most of the time, special effects or no special effects.

There’s plenty here to appeal to a Heathen audience: most of the action takes place in an intact Heathen culture, where Christianity is a newfangled curiosity. The movie opens with a classic mead hall scene, in all its gritty grubby glory, and after Grendel’s attack Beowulf arrives to claim the role of hero in a round of boasting. We are in a Germanic world without all of the preachy Christian interpolations of the poem.

The faces and emotions of most of the main characters were believable — with the exception of poor Wealhtheow, who was rendered as a geometric mass like an artist’s dummy. Beowulf could have been done as a simple smash and bash piece (monsters! wenches!), but after the first round of action, a more complex human story takes over. Unfortunately, the story is trite, but that is not the fault of the actors or the technology. A number of complex facial expressions and unspoken moments come off successfully, showing that this is indeed drama and not a video game or graphic novel. Visually, there’s a lot to enjoy: I loved the details of the ornaments and clothing, and the battle with the dragon was glorious. It’s too bad the producers haven’t yet learned to render galloping horses, which looked like a row of bouncing tennis balls, but that was really the one jarring exception.

Ever since John Gardner’s book Grendel, modern Beowulf interpreters have been interested in the monsters’ motivations and point of view, and this movie is no exception. In the interest of exploring monster-human relations, the writers decided to use Grendel’s mother as a femme fatale. (By this point everyone knows she is played by a digital version of Angelina Jolie, so I’m not giving anything away here.) This device seemed trite and gave the plot a soap opera twist, but the rest of the story and the acting were interesting and believable. This is not the Beowulf of the poem — but for an audience willing to experience it on its own terms, it has quite a tale to tell.

Note: if you want to brush up on the original Beowulf, check out the dual-language edition by Howell Chickering. The Chickering translation is more accurate than Seamus Heaney’s, and preserves more of the sense and rhythm of Anglo-Saxon verse. If you want to hear the poem in Old English, check out the Beowulf excerpt at Anglo-Saxon Aloud, or  Benjamin Bagby’s performance on DVD.

Ravencast, the Asatru podcast, has posted the third interview in their series on national Heathen organizations.  This month’s interview is with Heimgast of the Odinic Rite. In previous entries, the dynamic duo interview leading figures in The Troth and the Asatru Folk Assembly.

Although these organizations are all very different, it’s striking to hear how their representatives are all thinking about the Big Picture and the long-term future of Heathenry. It’s also interesting that all of the leaders seem to have a strong dedication to service.  In most of the places I hang out in Cybergard, we tend to spend our time on interesting but ephemeral discussions of day to day issues or various points of lore.  Until I heard these interviews, I hadn’t devoted much thought to larger issues or the role that a national organization might play whether in the life of an individual or on the national stage.  This series has broadened my horizons in a big way.

The official Beowulf movie website has a podcast series up now. Go to the main site and click on ‘Podcasts.’ The podcasts are on the long side, and I can’t decide if I liked the first one or not. As another blogger has pointed out, they really dumb down the poem, snickering at it as though it were something you would never want to actually read. The guys seem to have a lot more expertise in modern moviemaking and other Beowulf treatments, which they cover in loving detail and with great glee. They make fun of all of the other Beowulf movies, but I suppose that’s their job and in fact the other movies have been ridiculous. To this point, attempts to do a dramatic treatment of Beowulf have resulted in a train wreck. The hosts suddenly seem to realize where their logic is taking them, and assure us that this Beowulf movie will be much better.

Meanwhile, MacFarlane Toys has created a set of action figures with young Beowulf, Grendel, the dragon, and Grendel’s mother. (Warning: if you check out Grendel’s mother in hopes of seeing a naked Angelina Jolie, you’re going to be really, really disappointed.)

What I really want is the strange glowing meadhorn that everyone seems to have in the trailer. Maybe there will be a fast food restaurant tie-in and I can get one with a Happy Meal.

The trailer for the new Beowulf movie is out, and the producers are leading off with the most titillating scene they could come up with: a sultry CGI-enhanced Angelina Jolie, rising from a shimmering pool and murmuring seductive offers to the hero Beowulf.

Angelina Jolie seems to have developed a tail and a very pleasant mostly-Danish accent that sounds exactly like Mrs. Olsen in the old Folger’s coffee commercials. Alas, in the original poem Grendel’s mother (aka ‘Grendel’s dam’) was not a hot ticket but a repulsive monster whom Beowulf dispatched directly. But it’s always fun to rewrite your sources to draw a new audience. Hot dam!

The other day I was listening to a replay of a Fresh Air interview with a recently departed televangelist, who was lamenting, as though she lived a life of hardship, that her multiple homes were really very small — in fact the home in Texas was really just a cabin.

I snapped off the radio in disgust, grousing about how there are no Heathen interviews to listen to — and then smacked my forehead in a “coulda had a V8″ gesture, because of course there are! Ravencast is an Asatru podcast site featuring interviews on a wide variety of topics, from the practical to the spiritual. They interview everyone from newcomers to representatives of national organizations. There are also numerous thoughtful essay pieces on subjects ranging from fine points of lore to how to find a compatible group.

I always come away from this site feeling as though I’ve learned something new. Now that’s what I call fresh air!

The reconstructed Viking ship Havhingsten, or Sea Stallion from Glendalough, has reached Kirkwall in the Orkney Islands. The ship was towed most of the way across the North Sea from Norway.

The Sea Stallion is a reproduction of a 30 meter long Viking warship from Roskilde, Denmark. A team of 65 men and women is sailing the ship to Dublin. The project has a research goal of understanding how the Vikings accomplished their voyages. So far the project seems to be providing an additional lesson in how difficult sailing the North Sea really was: the weather has not been cooperating, and several crew members have been treated for hypothermia. Going on from Orkney, the Sea Stallion will have only a small support ship, so they will have to be more self reliant.

The voyage can be followed on several websites with journal entries, expert commentary, maps and videos, including the Havhingsten site and the BBC Viking Voyage site.