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Untergehen Information Package

Original ideas and synthesis © Copyright March 2004 Henry Lauer. I lay no claim to the information drawn from my sources. The ritual outline has been built around structures whose originator I am unable to determine. Contact me at henry@ironwoodsound.com.au.


Untergehen is celebrated in the greater Sydney, NSW region on or about 6 March.

You will notice there are quite a few footnotes in this piece. Please don’t skip them – you’ll find them useful!

I realise that the kind interpretation of Loki I have made really needs further discussion and justification – however this essay is not the place for such discussion. I therefore ask my reader to bear with me.

Introduction

Autumn - the heat dies, the rain comes. Blue and green replace the summer shades of brown and red. As autumn wears on, we begin to realise what a long journey each year is, aware that it will get colder before it will get warmer. The snakes and spiders begin to fall asleep, digging deep into the earth. In the coming winter, the unconscious, deeper forces of the land with gain the upper hand. I feel a surge of relief at autumn’s tide – the air changes, the light dims, and the shadows lengthen. Autumn is a beautiful season, in its better days mild and comfortable.

In 2003 I felt the “change” into autumn come on the first of March – a rare case of the seasons matching the calendar exactly. I wrote the following song in honour of autumn on the spot. I believe it succinctly expresses the things about autumn that make it worth celebrating:

Hail to the autumn light
Hail to the autumn night
I live for your gentle respite
And the long slow death of the year

Summer is over and autumn is come
The sun gentle, her strength fading long
She sheds her love ‘mid homestead and tree
And bears her burden to shadowed reprieve

The wind whispers a soothing harmony
Amid red leaves that shed to the time
Of some hidden rhythm deep inside the earth
That bears us down and into rebirth

Hail to the autumn light
Hail to the autumn night
I live for your gentle respite
And the long slow death of the year

I love the shadows of rustling tree leaves
I love the soothing scent of cold air shifting
I love the long nights borne round the home fire
And the arms of my lover that warm me at night

I love the cool tang of the earth on my feet
I love the grey clouds that brood without conceit
I love the bird song as love ekes its last
As the days grow shorter the moon reclaims his task

Hail to the autumn light
Hail to the autumn night
I live for your gentle respite
And the long slow death of the year

An Australian Northern Tradition Autumn Celebration

In pre-Christian Northern Europe there were a number of celebrations keyed to the end of summer and beginning of autumn. In particular we know of the Loaf Fest or Lammas, which marked the end of the harvest time and of summer; and we know of Winter Nights, properly speaking a succession of rites tied to the ancestral female spirits that protect one’s family line. It is worth pointing out that many of the Wiccan forms of observing Lammas bear little relation to the occasion’s actual roots, and in some cases are little better than an exercise in unwitting self-parody.

However, I do not place too much emphasis on either of these traditions. In modern Australia most folks do not live with the land: celebrating harvest is only relevant insofar as it gives us the chance to examine our progress on any goals set at, say, the previous Yule (1), Ostara (2) or Midsummer (3) celebrations. Winter Nights, the progressive battening down of the hatches against the cold, is pretty irrelevant in a warm climate such as ours. Psychologically, this process has some relevance, but practically speaking it has almost none.

I personally do not emphasise the Loaf Fest and Winter Nights. In modern Australia most folks do not live with the land: celebrating harvest is only relevant insofar as it gives us the chance to examine our progress on any goals set at, say, the previous Yule (1), Ostara (2) or Midsummer (3) celebrations. Furthermore, the Australian land has always resisted the onslaught of European agriculture techniques, and it seems somewhat disrespectful to celebrate the infliction of these practices upon this very different climate. Winter Nights, the progressive battening down of the hatches against the cold, is pretty irrelevant in a warm climate such as ours. Psychologically, this process has some relevance, but practically speaking it has almost none.

I believe that it is worth making the effort to research these traditions, but just as the folk of old evolved their practices and beliefs in accordance with the climate and geography they lived in, so should we. I haven’t expended a lot of energy reporting on the history of such customs, though I think that researching them is a rewarding activity.

I propose a general autumn theme, Untergehen, the German for ‘going under’. This word carries the sense of dissolution or descent, and is associated with the emotions and the manifestation of hidden potential. We might ‘go under’ to explore the unconscious, find inspiration, or to release ourselves from the strictures or rigidity of our everyday conscious lives. Insofar as the natural world cools and slows down in winter, it too ‘goes under’. The snakes hibernate, the sun is hidden behind clouds, the sea becomes altogether less inviting.

This process marks a time for taking stock (as, I suppose, all seasonal rituals are), for re-examining our assumptions and desires, and for releasing that which may weigh us down – in particular, our ego attachments. In a sense Untergehen continues right until the year’s nadir at Yule. As autumn deepens we might aim to clear ourselves for the laying of our orlog (4) that comes with Yuletide.

1. Just to clarify, Yule far predates the adoption of Christianity in Europe (the Church adopted the external trappings of a lot of old Germanic and Celtic beliefs). The 12 nights of Yule mark a time when the gates to the Underworld stand open and Woden leads the Wild Hunt howling through the night. In Australia, we celebrate Yule in June.

2. Ostara literally means Easter (it is an Old English word). Ostara/Easter was/is a goddess worshipped as the bringer of spring out of winter’s darkness. In Australia we celebrate this in September.

3. In Australia we celebrate Midsummer, the height of the sun goddess’s powers, in December.

4. Orlog literally means “primal layers” or “primal law”. It is an Old English word, primarily significant the context of pre-Christian Germanic religions. A person or thing’s orlog is the weight of the past which propels it into the underdetermined future. If we are wise, we may work both to consciously load our orlog with our will (often done at Yuletide), and we may be able to steer ourselves along the breaking wave of the past’s consequences rather than be swamped and controlled by them. This worldview is neither deterministic nor non-deterministic – we cannot choose everything, but we are not powerless either.

Autumn and Northern Mythology

I believe that this process relates to the Northern myths of the end of the world. My reading of these myths is that the Germanic deities, both Aesir and Vanir (5) gradually become corrupt and disconnected from the natural world. This reaches its peak when they attempt to render Baldur (the god of summer) immortal. This twisting of the natural order concerns him so much that Loki, the god of mischief and what might be called ‘therapeutic dissent’, arranges for Baldur to be killed. The fallout is quite awful, and to save face the gods arrange for Hodr, Baldur’s unwitting and accidental killer, to be slain. Loki is cast into dreadful torment in retribution, and the seeds of Ragnarok, the end of the world, are sown.

The killing of Hodr exposes the bankruptcy of the system of revenge killings prevalent for long periods of heathen history – how can a debt of blood really be ‘cancelled out’ if it’s all in the same family? (6) Mired in hypocrisy and ego-rigidity, the gods cling to the old, inflexible way of blood for blood. In response to this and their attempt to upset the life-death-rebirth circle, the most primal forces of the natural world rise to war – giants of ice and fire along with beings representative of deep Nature and the unconscious such as Iormangand (7) and Fenris (8) and Loki himself. The resulting carnage sees the death of most of the gods, including Odin, and the rebirth of a new, refreshed world.

Prior to Baldur’s death, Loki is also punished for abusing the gods and goddesses at an important function. One might argue that this behaviour is worthy of punishment, and to be fair, Loki does seem to be unfair in some of his accusations. Nevertheless it seems that he is punished in the way that the authorities punish those who ask difficult questions or expose corruption. I believe that he, being a partial outsider, has a unique insight into the gradual decline of the gods’ culture. I see their rising arrogance and total intolerance of criticism as sign that the gods’ society had become decadent.

The more rigid and totalitarian a society is, the more likely it is to collapse. Strong, healthy societies tend to be highly permissive because they are not held together by fear, divisive politics, or violence. The power elite of unsustainable social orders tend to use force as a substitute for community spirit.

Without wanting to dwell on it too extensively, I believe that Odin in particular is responsible for the shift in the socio-politics of the gods. In early forms of Germanic mythology the sky god Teiwaz/Tyr (9) sustains the order of things, co-ruling with Nerthus, the earth goddess. However, in late versions of the mythology, Tyr has been demoted extensively and Odin rules in his place. It appears that the One Eyed god has overstepped the bounds and forgotten his own limitations. An example of that claim – generally, Odin must rely on his wits to defeat his foes, but at Ragnarok his ego drives him to the battlefield – and Fenris tears him to shreds.

Before anyone accuses me of Odin bashing, I should add that he is my favourite deity, and that he wasn’t always an ogre. The politics of his change in character seem tied to the changing political circumstances of the Old Norse in the latter heathen period, which I will not go into here.

So, what has the corruption and rebirth of the Germanic pantheon got to do with autumn? As I see it, autumn corresponds to that time when Loki takes a stand against the gods, first by engaging in what might be called social dissent, then by arranging for the death of the god of summer. Winter corresponds to the dark time of Ragnarok and the silence that follows; spring corresponds to the new world that is born from the ashes of Ragnarok; summer seems to span the breadth of the period in which most of the myths seem to occur.

I propose that at the start of Autumn Loki deserves to be given respect and thanks for his subversive and troublesome nature. He helps bring totalitarianism to its knees and to release blockages of the natural order. It is my view that by honouring Loki, we might be able to heal some of the inevitable egotism and blockages within each of us, maybe even nipping them in the bud! In doing this, we welcome autumn into our lives, rather than ignore or despite it. It may seem strange, but sometimes letting chaos into one’s life is more beneficial in the long run than trying to cling familiar but obsolete and harmful patterns.

5. The Aesir are the Germanic deities that generally relate to human society, magic, art, creativity, and war. The Vanir are the Germanic deities that generally relate to the natural world, the seasons, animals, and fertility.

6. Historically, things went differently than they did for the gods. Early on in heathen times, theft, murder, etc., often devolved into cycles of violence that refracted back and forth between feuding kin groups. This was in spite of a practice which dictated that the family of the bereaved should extract a fine (set by custom) from the perpetrators of the crime rather than making a reprisal. By later heathen times (for example in Iceland), things changed for the better, and extended conflict was averted as this practice became more accepted and widespread. Such payments were referred to as weregild. Sometimes ‘mere mortals’ show more wisdom than divine beings.

7. Iormangand is the great serpent that lies beneath the sea and encircles the world. At Ragnarok, it and Thor conclude a long lasting enmity by slaying one another. It is related to the Greek Ouroboros, a snake that bites its own tail, simultaneously eating itself and giving birth to itself.

8. Fenris Wolf is the largest and most ferocious of all such beasts. Through trickery, the gods chained it in a cave before it was fully grown, fearful of predictions that it would be central to their doom. Had they not earned Fenris’s enmity, it may not have turned on them at Ragnarok. Interestingly, both of these animals are reputed to be children of Loki’s.

9. Teiwaz is cognate to the Greek Zeus, Celtic Taranis, and Sanskrit Deva or Dyaus.

More about Loki

Loki is often misunderstood, dismissed as a trouble maker, traitor, and ultimately, world destroyer. I, however, have a soft spot for him, and think him greatly misunderstood.

Going by the myths we still possess, Loki is a highly ambiguous figure: half giant and half god, both the enemy of the gods and also Odin’s blood brother; a shape changer, who several times took on female form to give birth to children, and who encouraged Thor, one of the prime gods of masculinity, to cross-dress. He often causes some disaster or conflict and then, when forced to repair the situation, ends up leaving things better off than when he found them. Before falling out with the gods, he often joined Thor on his battle-seeking forays into Jotunheim, the land of the giants.

It is easy to dismiss Loki for his conniving, backstabbing and trouble-making. However, his dissenting and chaotic nature also has an important place – in criticising and bringing down unjust social (and presumably natural) orders. His spirit lives today in every demonstration, petition, letter sent to an MP, you name it. His preferred weapon is laughter, not violence; he is a master of using his foes’ words against them.

I had a very arresting experience the first time I worked magic with Loki (back during some of the Sydney WTO protests in 2002). Not long after the ritual I found myself fired from the job I had at the time, and I found that my electric bass had somehow – despite not being touched for a week - been significantly damaged.

At first I was despairing at this double blow – then I recalled the many myths where Loki first causes trouble, then rectifies the situation to a point where his victim(s) are better off for enduring his tricks. I began to laugh at the cruel joke of the situation. It seems to make everything different – by not letting things get to me, I had a better job within a week – and then I found, very cheaply, my first 6 string bass. On top of that, I had two weeks severance pay, providing for a charming holiday with an amazing new instrument. It was as though I had passed some test, not let the situation drag me down, and my reward was a sudden reversal of fortune.

One of the oldest English folk songs, “John Barleycorn”, relates the tale of poor John, who comes back to life again and again no matter how the farmers try to harvest him, eat him, etc. Eventually he is made into barley ale, which the song claims will break repression in priest and miller alike.

It has been argued that John Barleycorn is “really” Odin, but I think an equally good case could be made for identifying him with Loki (assuming one felt like identifying him with anyone else at all). (10) Both are irrepressible, both are subversive. Plus, in my view, Loki should be worshipped in autumn, and the tale of John Barleycorn had specific significance at the end of summer, being as it is a song with a harvest theme.

Loki seems stamped with the force of the rune Hagalaz – he incites a kind of disaster that hatches the seeds of new growth.

10. Another perspective argues that John Barleycorn is none other than Frey’s associate, Byggvir

Other Personalities relevant to Autumn and Untergehen

Although they also have another celebration later in autumn, I think it is also very appropriate to give thanks to the Disir – the female ancestral spirits that may guide one’s path. I am not sure why, but historically it seems they were considered to become particularly active as autumn arrived and headed towards winter. This may have something to do with the belief at that Yule – midwinter – the doors to the Underworld (11) and other places open.

John Barleycorn perhaps deserves a mention, though I’m not really sure what kind of place he has in the scheme of things – perhaps reciting or playing his tune might suffice!

The earth, of course, deserves praise, as do the winds, which seem to have a big role in bringing on the change in weather. Finally, it is fitting for us to give some acknowledgement to Balder, the beautiful god of summer who is slain despite being innocent of any wrongdoing. Many folks prefer summer to the other seasons, and mourn its passing each year.

11. Known as Hel, though its similarity to the monotheist version ends about there.

The Rite

The ritual (called a blot) (12) is fairly straight forward. Sometimes I write ritual scripts and memorise them, but in the case of a blot to Loki this seems like asking for trouble – what more likely occasion could there be for forgetting one’s lines?

1) Opening
We open the ritual with a hammer hallowing or similar banishing/hallowing work.

2) Statement of Intention
The main celebrant (which we shall call a Goði if male, a Gyðja (13) if female, after the Old Norse tradition) declares the purpose of the rite – to welcome autumn, to recognise and praise Loki for his often dismissed efforts, and to thank the Disir and any other entities chosen for their aid in autumn.

3) Reading/Performance
Perhaps ‘John Barleycorn’ could be performed. Alternately, Passage 34 of Skaldskaparmal (14) could be read out by one of the attendees. One will note that the root of this tale is that Loki cuts of Sif’s golden hair – the tale implies that this is reminiscent of harvesting wheat. Note as well that in this tale, Loki does not get away with his mischief!

4) The Call
At this point, a vessel of mead is brought forth. The gathering is led by the Goði/Gyðja in calling upon the presence of Loki. Referring to him by his nicknames and the doer of the deeds attributed to him is a good method (it will get you researching, too!)

5) Loading
Runes symbolising the Statement of Intention (item 4) are then sung, visualised and channelled into the mead, which acts as a medium between those present and the forces being invoked.

The runes I recommend using are Nauthiz, Hagalaz, and Wunjo (in that order).

6) Drinking
The Goði/Gyðja then signs the sun wheel over the horn, and drinks. All else follow. I remind you then it is VITAL that some mead remain at the end of the drinking – this is a gift to Loki, Balder, the Disir, and any other beings you may have chosen to call. If needed, just top it up with more mead! It is suggested that each person raise a toast to the season, Loki, or something/one else that seems appropriate to the occasion.

7) Blessing
The remaining mead poured into a bowl and stirred circa 12 times by the Goði/Gyðja with an evergreen sprig, while singing “Heila Loki!” Group participation for the singing is recommended. Then the mead is splashed upon the participants and the surrounds, as the Goði/Gyðja declares:

May the laughter of Loki be upon this gathering!
May the laughter of Loki be upon this place!
May the laughter of Loki be upon all that is!

8) Giving
The mead is poured into a secondary bowl. Later, it should be poured out at the foot of a tree, with the words, “We give thee Loki this gift in thanks for thy mischief and mirth and thee Balder for your forlorn funeral” or something similar.

9) Leaving
The Goði/Gyðja closes the working with a statement such as “This deed is done – thus it has been.”

12. Blot is an Old Norse word that literally means sacrifice, as in ‘to make sacred’.

13. Pronounced ‘Go-thee’ and ‘Gith-ya’; the ð has the character of a ‘th’ sound. ‘Th’ was originally undifferentiated from ‘d’.

14. Book two of the Prose Edda, a compendium of Old Norse myths and poetry assembled by Snorri Sturluson in the 13th century.

Concluding Remarks

I’m sure that there is a lot I’ve skipped, and I recommend that my reader ask me if they want more information. May Loki lighten you, and the season be one of cheer!


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