Author Archives: runeworker

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About runeworker

Rootworker , Reader, and Sorcerer

August 19, 2010 – Aethel


Aethel

Aethel is the dipthong “ae”

Anglo-Saxon Rune Poem (from ragweedforge.com)

An estate is very dear to every man,
if he can enjoy there in his housewhatever is right and proper in constant prosperity

Aethel points to your home, and your ancestors, those people whose bloodline, you may be the current repository and passer of. I find the two ideas are often intertwined on a metaphysical level. Peace in your home, harmony, abundance, prosperity, and all good things can be seen as the blessings of your ancestors, the people who look upon you from photographs, and memorabilia, like grandma’s tea cup or tie pin that your great grandfather may have had, passed down from generation to generation. Giving respect and reverence to these people, both living and passed, often is a way that blessings will grow and accumulate in your own life

August 18, 2010 – Aesc reversed

Aesc reversed

Aesc is the dipthong “ae”

Anglo-Saxon Rune Poem (from ragweedforge.com)

The ash is exceedingly high and precious to men.
With its sturdy trunk it offers a stubborn resistance,though attacked by many a man.

The rune for today is almost comical to me, in light of my experience while doing my spiritual disciplines this morning. Moving from my meditation, I felt the strong desire to visit the Runatyr, mainly because I felt this intuition to pull out a red candle, carve the complete Futhorc into it, dressing with one of my all purposes condition oils, and light it. Wondering why I got this instruction, I sought out the Allfather, to ask, and see. Well, it’s always good to give the rune wights some love (and payment) but I also got a flash of inspiration as well, I think for paying a visit and my respects, and following the impulse I was given. In that sense, Aesc reversed speaks to power of the Gods and wights, coming down, making themselves known, and how to go about directing that power that they gift you with. As I think of the Aesc (the ash tree) as being a symbol of the Upper Realms, when it is reversed, it is the power of those realms being poured forth in very précise ways. It also points to that during the night I was having a series of vivid dreams, that occurred one after the other. This almost never happens to me, but when it does, it feels like a floodgate has been opened.

August 12, 2010 – Khalk

Khalk

Khalk is the letter K

There is no rune poem for Khalk. It is a Northumbrian Rune.

Khalk is one of those runes whose exact name is unclear. Many translations given are cup or chalice. In my personal meditations on Khalk, that is the essence that sticks out the clearest. As I have often wrote about before, it is the Cup of desires, hopes and dreams, the goal that motivates, even though it is often unattainable. I am reminded of a saying that I read somewhere “If mans reach was not meant to exceed his grasp, what is a heaven for?” The highest ideal is meant to be unreachable, at least as long as we dwell in this mortal coil, as the journey, struggle, and endeavor to reach that place keeps us going, despite the hardship, and the path of thorns that awaits us. But mixed in with those thorns, are roses.

August 11, 2010 – Cweorth/Qweorth

Cweorth/Qweorth

Cweorth is letter Q

There is no Anglo-Saxon rune poem. Cweorth is a Northumbrian Rune.

As I sat contemplating this rune, the words of William Blake sprang to mind.

Tiger, Tiger, burning bright,
in the forest of the night.
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

In what distant deeps or skies
Burnt the fire of thine eyes.
On what wings dare he aspire
What the hand dare seize the fire?

And what shoulder and what art Could twist the sinews of thy heart? And when thy heart began to beat, What dread hand and what dread feet? What the hammer? what the chain? In what furnace was thy brain? What the anvil? What dread grasp Dare its deadly terrors clasp? When the stars threw down their spears, And water’d heaven with their tears, Did He smile His work to see? Did He who made the lamb make thee? Tiger, tiger, burning bright In the forests of the night, What immortal hand or eye Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?