Runecasting with the Giantess

Raidho (Proto-Germanic "Raidō," Icelandic "Reið") is the R-rune of the Elder Futhark, the fifth letter in "Futhark." The shape of it possibly derives directly from the Latin letter R.

The Proto-Germanic origin of this rune's name means "ride" and it is taken to represent a journey, in any sense you can interpret it. The journey through life, a walk from point A to point B, the trajectory of your spiritual development are all valid applications for this rune. It does not speak to the destination: Raidho is all about the process of travel, the transformation that happens as you move along, wherever that takes you. In Old Norse mythology it was associated with the path of the sun across the sky, an apt analogy for the influence of higher powers upon our path. The translation of the Icelandic rune-poem breaks down into three parts:

1. Reið er sitjandi sæla: "Riding is sitting joy," meaning how nice it is to look around on a journey, having a seat when someone else is doing the work of transportation.
2. snúðig ferð: "swift journey," how quickly you can get from place to place while riding on an animal or transport.
3. ok jórs erfiði: "and horse's toil," implying that the horse is a necessary component to travel. You could walk, but that's not nearly as pleasant as having the beast carry you along.

Perhaps it's obvious to state, but an intrinsic component to this journey is that you're riding: the horse must be there, something must be carrying you along. You're not walking, you're not guiding yourself—you can steer the horse, but it can take over at any second. Perhaps this is an analogy for fate, an appeal to simply enjoy the ride and look around at oneself with wide-eyed marvel as we're carried along from cradle to grave. In accordance with the Scandinavian cosmology of fate, sure, you can influence your course, but much was decided before you were born and you're being drawn down a path. Whether that path is predestined or simply out of your hands is an argument for the philosophers; the important thing is that you find some delight and amusement in the journey, as long as you're on it.

The path is easier, of course, when you're attuned to the horse beneath you. It would be harder to enjoy this ride if you were clutching to his mane, grappling his neck, struggling to keep from slipping off his broad back, perhaps to be met with his thunderous hooves. Life isn't quite that chaotic: in our trajectory, we're given an amiable-enough mount, and we're provided a saddle. If you can resign yourself to the guidance of the universe, to trust that you're being brought where you need to be or at least somewhere that will be useful to you, then you might as well enjoy yourself. Something else (fate, the gods, the cosmos) is doing all the work of carrying you along—the important thing is that you're moving along. You're not stationary, you shouldn't be. Things are happening, one after the other. That is the logical progression of all of existence, and you're part of it.

And yeah, at the same time, there's no such thing as a free lunch. The horse is carrying you along, it's bearing you and its own weight while plodding endlessly down the path. Learn some gratitude for the process, show some respect for the forces that impel you down your road. Steadfastly maintaining that you're in charge, you're the captain of your fate, may be insulting to the forces that are actually doing the work. Even if it's not the cosmos or the gods shoving you down your path, your transport could be something like the infrastructure of your city, or the emotional burden of your journey. How well are you tending to your horse? What's your level of civic engagement? Do you appreciate those who support you, and do you respect yourself and your struggle sufficiently?

As for fighting the flow of the universe, how well did that work out for the Old Norse gods, imposing order upon what they saw as the chaos of nature? The Norns had to water the roots of Yggdrasil, the eagle had to tear apart its branches, the wolves had to devour the sun and the moon. Those things were going to happen, no matter what: we got some great stories from the gods fighting against that, but the ending was always going to be the same. The gods showed no respect for fate, striving against it, using magic to perceive what was about to happen. They had no trust in the cosmos: they believed they could write the rules.

Don't be this way. Align yourself to the universal flow. Change the things you can around you—build your community, develop yourself as a person, leave the world better than you found it—but show some respect to the patient, powerful beast upon whose back you recline. Make the journey easier by trusting in the process of fate, and admire the scenery along the way.

But that Norwegian rune-poem … what the fuck was that about? Reginn is a dwarf blacksmith in Old Norse mythology. He forged the sword Gram (Balmung) for the hero Sigurd. Gram was a legendary weapon, capable of hewing fate in its own way. There's a reason these two lines were put in contrast with each other, the first one being about a horse worn down by travel, the second about a sword. If we wanted to make sense of this, think about how the use of the sword improves our skill with it but blunts its edge, like practicing horse-riding increases our connection with the horse, but the process does damage to its muscles, joints, and hooves. I dunno, for me, personally, it gets a little abstract and kind of falls apart, but I don't know enough about Scandinavian culture.

Keywords: Journey, Travel, Progress, Fate (Urðr), Becoming, Spiritual Growth