Considering Rokkatru

For many years now, I've practiced a more or less split form of paganism focused on Celtic mythology and Norse legend.  For the most part, I've stuck to the typical gods and goddesses (or rather, the ones who have revealed themselves to me just happened to have been prominent divine figures -- we don't really choose our gods, after all, they choose us), but in the last few years, something has been building and building within me, and a curiosity in a third grouping of divine figures has really taken the forefront, especially in recent months.  I speak of the Rokkr, or Jotnar, depending on how modern you're feeling.

Naturally as with most mythologies, there is a natural force that operates parallel and in opposition to the gods of men.  The Jotnar are precisely that in most depictions, a primordial parallel line to the gods that seem farther removed from humanity and are thus easier to vilify and condemn, and so often become the antagonistic counterpoint to the protagonist divinities (you see the same with the Fomorians in the Irish myths, but I feel less of an immediate connection with them for some reason).  So while Odin and his family (the Aesir) are given the lion's share of the attention and shown largely as heroic figures (along with the Vanir), Loki and his kin are shown as deceptive or destructive.  Granted, much of this is the taint of Christianity on the written record, but that taint is hard to get away from when the original stories were never written down (or were destroyed, as with most records of the druids among the Gauls and Celts).

While I personally enjoy a very deep connection with Odin myself, and one that has guided me in many times of need, I've never been able to truly call myself an "Odinist".  Part of this is due to my divided loyalty to the Celtic traditions and druidry, particularly to the presence and influence of the Morrigan triumvirate in my life (never underestimate the power of a primary goddess who makes herself known so directly, and never question her guidance when given).  A much bigger part, I'm growing to realize, is because I have other divine loyalties to consider as well.  It's not as cut and dry as selecting one god and one goddess, nor should it be, but it's normal to have a chosen patron of each gender as a sort of "go-to" for your generalized will-working and prayer.  The Morrigan has never been in question for me, but Odin always felt more like a "default"; sure, I felt his presence and saw his wisdom for what it was, and I respected his warrior nature as well as his gift for magic, but he always seemed too... obvious, I suppose.

About two and a half years ago, I started to feel a shift in those loyalties.  Given my connection with the Morrigan, it shouldn't have been too surprising, really.  She's not exactly seen as a benevolent and kind goddess, after all.  When your primary divine figure is a war goddess with aspects dealing with death, madness, and fury, and a moniker of the "Phantom Queen", being drawn toward a path less traveled is to be expected.  Even so, it was hard to really prepare myself for what was to come.

It seemed simple enough at first, and I sort of dismissed it as an odd fit.  I had started to hear a howling wolf when I meditated.  After a time, I started to feel as though I had been chained whenever I would hear the howl.  Eventually, Fenris made himself known to me, and imparted some of his wisdom on the true duality of this world.  Nothing is as cut and dry as it seems, and just as the world needs light in order to be enjoyed, it needs darkness for that light to be appreciated.  Without that sense of balance, there is no understanding of why or how things are the way that they are; we're just taking things for granted.

My connection with Fenris grew every bit as rapidly as the wolf of legend.  I started to understand myself a lot better.  In many ways, I was Fenris; I had long since chained down those parts of myself that I found unpleasant and left them to fester and seethe, and that was a mistake.  By ignoring the problems, I had given them power over me and only made them worse when they eventually get out of hand.  There's a lot of wisdom to be gained by truly understanding these things, and the lessons of Fenris are really just the beginning.  This has led to me questioning a lot more in recent months.  As my own practice of will-working has grown, and I have transitioned from the strictly-solitary practitioner that I've been all my life to part of a three-member group, I've explored more options and asked more of my patrons than I had in the past, and all in all, the conventional gods have been found wanting.

Strange as it may seem, the Rokkr/Jotnar have been the most forthcoming when I've called upon them.  Odin was always there, but never gave the resonating appearance that Fenris has, let alone that of Loki.  While I certainly prefer the warrior-ideal presented among the Norse gods, the primal aspect of the Jotnar is undeniably something that fascinates me.  Nature isn't all puppies and kittens.  It's storms, it's unforgiving landscapes, it's predatory animals.  It's raw and it's dangerous just as much as it is delicate and beautiful.  These "darker" gods are no different.  Just because they're not sanitized and humanized doesn't mean they don't have something to teach us.  If anything, we can learn more from them because they haven't been pressed into a familiar mold; it's the differences that we spot most easily, and when they're as glaring as the differences between us and a raging wolf bound by an impossible chain awaiting the end of an era, there's a lot of room for growth.