#fyrnsidu

Winter has fallen, it’s battles hard won
For darkness has conquered the sun
The longest of nights has come tonight
The coldest of seasons is here
The wind heralds, the hunt howls, tonight
We have near reached the end of our year
Draw near to the hearth, and keep you warm
From outside where cold winds blow and storm
Tonight is Mother’s night, tonight we remember
Our mothers, grandmothers, who to sheltered us here
Listening to them spin tales next to dying ember’
Tonight, we once again lend them our ear

Three candles we light, one just an old stub,
So well used tis only a small nub
For our foremothers, we give thanks

Second, for our own mother(s) who here or not,
Has (Have) us so much given and taught
For our own mother(s), tonight we give thanks

Third, one candle brand new, never lit
For daughters who one day beside a hearth will sit
For (our) daughters, now and future, we give thanks

Remember the goddesses, for candles three
Weaving and spinning together your family tree
Tonight, give thanks to all mothers come and gone
as we await the rising of the Yule dawn.

* The three candles should be: a well-used stub, a partially used candle, and an unlit candle. For best use, use the mother’s candle this year for foremother’s next year and the daughter candle for mother’s next year.

The gods did wait on us for ages
Their tales on half forgotten pages
Yet they speak now to call us anew
And set the world right, it is askew

Why did we turn on them? Turn away?
Why? Well none alive can rightly say
On this, only one thing is now clear
They long waited on ears that would hear

Gods of the cold North call to their kin
Gods of the warm sands do rise again
Gods of the Greeks do speak from warm seas
Gods of the groves whisper through the leaves

All the old gods do now awaken
Their people fallen and far scattered
Their children forgotten what mattered
Yet stand we here again unshaken

We, forerunners of a coming age
Undo what religious war did wage
Magic we rekindle and revive
For through man’s doubt our gods did survive

The gods did wait on us for ages
Their tales on half forgotten pages
Yet they speak now to call us anew
And set the world right, it is askew

Seasons change, sweeping aside the old,
Replacing it with new, cycles untold
Lines etched into our once smooth faces
Gray appearing even more places

The earth’s face too does change over time
Great forests grow where once was green field
Glaciers grind rock, great mountains of rime
Rivers twist and flood to rich land yield

But the earth, she does all remember
Footsteps leave paths, tracing where we went
Rain and weather etch rings in timber
Each a memory, a testament

- Brocc

Do you feel the longing? I know I do.

I long for the forests, deep forests that today exist only as a memory of a dream.

I long for the earth between my fingers.

I long to farm, to bring forth from the land food for me and mine, to care for it so that it can care for me.

I long to hunt beasts in the forest, take only as needed, and to give reverence to those spirits.

I long for the freedom of isolation - that oppression cannot exist when human numbers are so low you cannot form an army.

I long for community - a small group, a tribe, united in not just common goals but also common views.

I long for the absence of rulers, politicians, beaurocrats, and everything those people stand for.

I long for clean air, clean water.

I long to use my own feet to walk, feel the ground under me, to be unseparated from the earth by a rubber and plastic “sole”, but instead to craft my own shoes from things of the earth itself.

I long for a sky without airplanes, a morning without the hum of automobiles.

I long for a day free from seeing the confused sadness of the other people around me - knowing they miss something but not knowing what it is they miss.

I’d give up the extra lifespan for those qualities of life. I’d take disease and hardship for the challenge of reliance on myself and the few around me.

We made a mistake. Convenience is not worth this loss. Living to 80-90 only to be bedridden by dementia is not worth the loss. Living to 65 only to realize your life was spent in pursuit of retirement and then you were too old to truly enjoy retirement is not worth the loss.

As I lay dying, I want to be fulfilled that I lived a good life.

Brothers and sisters, the Earth is dying. We have slain her. Our numbers, our lifestyle, our comfort, our convenience, our wants, our technology, our progress - these were the murder weapons.

What is a comfortable life, a convenient life, when such evil is wrought from it? A sin against nature, a sin against self.