Skaði’s Forest

Winifred Hodge Rose

Each of us, working with any of the Deities, can form poles of power together that open up between us something like our own personal Ginnungagap: a liminal land, entry to the Otherworlds surrounding us on all sides. Our souls can fare through these spaces, exploring, experiencing, learning, sharing with our Deities.

This liminal space can take many forms and ‘flavors’ depending on what we and the Deity we work with Will for it, and the process that causes it to open may take many forms as well. We may encounter and experience the symbols the Deity uses, such as the Hammer, Spindle, Spear, Rainbow, Necklace, Glove, North-Star, and many others.

Here I want to share what that space is like between myself and Skaði, and how that space opens up between us when we Will it. This is how she calls me and what she taught me about how it works, through soul-faring into her Forest.

I express this process and experience through a poem, verse by verse. I wrote this poem many years ago while working with Skaði, but I’ve been amazed over the years since then how more and more insights come to me from it, that I did not see earlier. Though this poem is about my own experience, this presentation is meant to honor Skaði, the strange paths of wisdom that she walks, and her willingness to share them—her own way!

Challenge

First, there is the Challenge, which only comes when on some level I am ready for it, though on the level of my Midgard consciousness the Challenge may come as a surprise and an awakening. Here is the Challenge verse. Note that the lines of the poem are shaped a bit like an arrow nocked into a bow, extending toward the right with two ‘fingers’ holding it on either side, though the string of the bow running down the left side of the verse is still straight, not yet drawn taut. This is the shape of the words that Skaði draws out of me.

Eerie ice-eyed Lady, utter strangeness,

Thy silent challenge calls me with the utmost wildness,

Sending the winds of my breath echoing

Across great landscapes of being:

Seeking a way out of

Seeking a way into

Thy Forest.

Response

Then there is the response to the Challenge: acceptance of it, standing face to face with Skaði staring down her arrow at me, and speaking my Wish-Will for the encounter. This is my chance, come upon me by surprise, to muster my courage and speak briefly with her before she sends me forth into her Forest.

Crag-etin fierce, stay thine arrow’s flight,

Hold thy fingers from the string of thy great bow’s might:

But a moment would I speak with thee,

Ere thou lettest swiftly fly,

Dark shaft striking

From thy wild soul

Into mine.

Blessing

Before setting off into the wildlands of that liminal space—the Forest, it’s wise to ask Skaði’s Blessing. The asking and the giving of the Blessing in this context come from a very deep place, containing more than I can conceptualize or well express. When I stand in the Forest confronting Skaði and her arrow, this process of asking the Blessing feels a bit like what I imagine Odin must feel, hanging upon the Tree and reaching, reaching, reaching so deeply for the Runes with all of his Being. The Blessing extends so far beyond any space-time I can comprehend by my Midgard-mind, and it speaks to my deep need as I prepare to encounter and explore the Unknown.

Cool Breath-of-Forest, breathe thou upon my face!

Touch thy hand to my brow and leave thine icy trace.

Let thy wildness heal the ravages

Wrought by a world too grimly tame,

Ere thine icy arrows

Set my souls adrift:

Winds in thy Forest.

Faring Forth

Then Skaði’s fingers tighten on the bowstring, like a harpist fingering her instrument, and a soaring tone sings forth.

There is a fourth verse to this poem, but—as with the Wind—it has no words.

* * * * * * * * *

Words so often get in the way of direct experience. But sometimes we can try, anyway. Among the things I explore in Skaði’s Forest is shapeshifting; here is a poem about one such experience. In Midgard, as I composed the poem I was listening to the winter mating calls of Great Horned Owls from my open bedroom window on a snowy night. In Skaði’s Forest, I was the Owl herself, by the gift of Skaði’s mystery.

Owl in Winter

A whisper, and less than that, on the breath of night—

Huntress strikes her prey!

A sigh of death breathes into new life:

Life takes, life gives, life is.

~~~

Feathers I know,

Talons I know,

The nest in the tossing tree.

Sound-shapes glitter

In nets of night:

I know my world.

~~~

And see–an egg gleams

In glancing moonlight.

~~~

And see–snow covers all tracks

Save mine, written on the wind.

Return

There is a fifth verse to the poem of Skaði’s Forest, too, but this is neither poetry nor silence, but prose. It is the calling of my Lichama, my living body, to its wandering souls. It is the pull of Midgard, the earthing of souls into body. The beating of my heart, the coursing of my blood, the wind of Ahma / Önd / Spirit settling now into the cave of my lungs, as memories settle deeply from my mind into Mimir’s Well.

Skaði’s arrow no longer points at me, bowstring taut in her fingers. I walk in Midgard under Sunna’s rays, no longer in Skaði’s Forest.

For now.

~~~

Skaði’s Forest