Monday, April 28, 2008

Conversations With Odin Part 1

By:Ragnar Storyteller
Part 1

Part of the Theme of my website is combining Runes, Norse gods/goddesses with Quantum Physics.

Quantum Physics tells us that everything exists in an infinite ocean of energy, called the Quantum Ocean.

There is no time there, no past, present nor future. Only the now.

Therefore Odin and all the gods/goddesses of the North are there. You just need the Secret of how to attract them and bring them out of the Quantum Ocean.

Well, one wintry night several years ago in the boonies of the Pennsylvania Mountains, I had a small accident. I slid off the icy road and wound up in a ditch. As I sat in my car dozing waiting for help .....

Well read the story if you like..

Conversations Wtih Odin

by: Ragnar Storyteller

The snow started as a light flury, hardly reaching the ground or sticking to the windshield. It was midnight and I was still 5 miles from Highway 6 which would take me home.

I didn't like the small narrow roads that criss crossed the Pocono Mountains. They were always darker than the main roads because the tree lines on both sides of the road came out to meet you. And this road twisted, turned, dipped and rose like some kind of writhing snake.

Suddenly, the intensity of the snow increased and my windshield wipers were having a hard time keeping the window clear.

I could feel the tenseness start in my shoulders and then down to my gut as I twisted and turned down that narrow road in the snow. I often wondered why I found driving in the snow so stressful. When I meditated on this thought, I found it wasn't the fear of going off the road, nor being injured or even killed. It was mostly inconvience, economic and political. Economic because if I smashed up my 86 Blazer, I didn't have money enough to have it repaired or replaced. And the politics of dealing with the police and the insurance companies. Bahhh!

Suddenly, a doe leaped out in front of me and dashed across the road. Instinctively I hit the brakes, and although I was only doing 20 mph, I skidded off the road and into the drainage ditch. Fortunately I did not hit a tree, nor was I hurt. I quickly got out of the car to survey my predicament. The back wheels were well into the ditch, which was now filling up with snow.

I got back into the car and tried to drive out of the ditch and back onto the road. But it was too steep and I couldn't get any traction. There was no room to maneuver front, back or sides. No way to get out without help. So I was stuck for awhile.

After a few minutes, I opened the door and stepped outside. It was snowing furiously, but it was not cold. I was dressed warm so I just leaned against the car and waited.

At first I did not believe what my eyes were telling me. About 20 yards away, walking towards me in the middle of the narrow dark road was ... someone.

I closed my eyes and shook my head and looked again. Yes, it was a man. He was dressed in a long dark blue cloak with a large hood that covered his whole face. In his right hand he carried a large thick walking stick.

"It couldn't be," I thought to myself. "I must be dreaming, am I imagining..."

"Hailsa," his voice boomed and echoed back and forth across the road from tree line to tree line.

He walked right up to me and I could see into his hood. He was full bearded and long strands of silvery hair cascaded down to his shoulders.

And ... yes ...

He had a black patch over one eye.

"Hailsa Kinsman," he repeated and his one ice-blue eye sparkled.

"Hailsa All-Father," I blurted out.

"Ah, you do know who I am," he smiled. "And well you should. You have been working the runes ... for how long now?" he asked.

"Twenty years, All-Father," I answered.

"Yes," he smiled. "And you have been busy restoring the books of your ancestors."

I nodded.

"Hugin and Munin have reported back to me many favorable stoires about you," he said.

I was speechless.

"So," he continued, "I felt that as long as I was in this part of Midgard ... what it is called?"


"Ah yes, Pennsylvania," he smiled. "Beautiful weather we are having." He raised his arms into the air. Then he became serious and said, "Now my son, I am in a hurry. There is so much to do these days. But I will stay and talk to you for awhile. You have studied hard and long and earned it. What is it that I can tell you that will help your with your quest and your life's destiny?"

"What," I stammered. "I don't understand."

"What is it you are searching for in all those books that you read?"

I thought for a moment before I replied. "I want to know the truth about things..."

"Ah, the truth," he said. "Which truth? There are no many."

"The truth about what is happening to my world. Where did I come from? Where do I go? What is good? What is evil?" I hesitated a moment and continued, "and who are you? Where did you come from?"

"Ha, ha, ha, ha," he bellowed. "You ask much. Remember, I don't have much time. Heimdal and Loki are waiting for me down the road so I can't dally long."

"But ..."

"Patience," he said. "I cannot tell you all I know. It would destroy your mind to know as much as a God knows. Your heart would burst with the sorrow of the truth and your breath would leave your body."

He paused and began again, "I will tell you what you need to know. And I'll know what it is you need to know by the quality and depth of your questions. Think carefully before you ask. And remember this ... you can only know as much truth as you are capable of knowing. The magic to knowing the truth is in the price that has been paid."

"Tree of Yggdrasil and Mimer's Well?" I asked referring to how Odin the All-Father had hung on the tree of life, suffering for nine days so that he might know the truth about the runes. And how he sacrificed one of his eyes at the Well of Mimir in order to gain more wisdom.

I shook my head in frustration. What had I done to earn truth? What great sacrifice had I made?

"Oh you have," interrupted Odin as he read my thoughts. "You may not have made a great sacrifice like a warrior who dies in battle for something he believes in. But, look at the many small battles you have won on a daily basis. The battle of keeping your own individual faith and belief system alive in the midst of the chaos of multiplicity and duplicity all around you.

"Do not forget the many battles you have won for the kindred locked up in the many prisons? Many of them being there because they would not bend their knees to the God who seeks to make slaves of them. So now they are imprisoned so that they may atone for their sins against this God.

He paused, "Do you forget the time, money and effort you spent seeking out, copying and selling books which told of your ancestors? Do you forget the many verbal battles you engaged in, in defense of your own beliefs? Do you not at this time feel the osternization of a society that is hostile, nay even deadly to anyone who would dare to think differently than they do?

"No, Ragnar Storyteller," boomed Odin, "the number and quality of your small individual deeds has indeed built up into a great sacrifice. A great victory. Your persistence, dedication and lonely search have won you a reward. Hugin and Munin brought your struggle to my attention and I have been watching you."

He stopped, leaned closer and the penetrating power of his one ice-blue eye reached into my soul. "Choose your questions!"

Just then a car's blinding head lights came around the curve. But instead of stopping it roared on by.

"Wait...!" I shouted in disappointment. They did not see my headlights nor that I was in a ditch.

Odin smiled. "What is your wish?" he said. "To be rescued and driven home where it is light and warm? Or do you wish to stay here with me, in the snow, wind and cold and seek out your destiny?"

Somehow he had cloaked us from sight and the oncoming car never saw us.

"Rescue, comfort and ease or mystery, cold and danger? Choose for another car approaches and I can go and let them find you."

"No!" I shouted. "My first question is .... who are you?"

"Ha, ha, had, ha" he bellowed. "I am Odin, the All-Father."

He stopped and stared at me. "Oh, I see," he said. "Not enough?"

I shook my head no.

"Well," he continued, "then I am God of Battles, God of Wisdom, God of the Winds ..."

I continued to shake my head.

"God of Poetry...."

"No," I said. "What is the difference between you and I? How did you become who you are?"

"Ah," he smiled and his ice-blue eye flared.

"There is no difference between you and I potentially," he said. "What I am now ... well let us say you can become."

"A god," I stammered.

"Surely," he smiled. He turned and looked into the line of trees that edged the highway. "There, there," he pointed. "What is that?"

I tried to see into the darkness, but with the swirling snow blinding my eyes I couldn't make out what it was he was pointing at.

He scolded me slightly with an impatient sigh, pointed his index finger and bellowed, "there!" Suddenly to the left of me one of the trees started to glow brightly.

"Why," I said, "it is an oak tree."

"Yes, yes" he said. "But was it always so?"

"No," I answered, "boy you are impatient!"

His head snapped around towards me and his one eye fixed on my two.

"Ha, ha, ha," he laughed. "Tis true enough. Teaching and patience are not my strong suits. I leave that to Heimdal and the All-Mother. Remember, my son, I too am growing and evolving and have my little faults."

"You mean you are not omnipotent," I kidded.

"Ha," he bellowed. "That is the clap-trap nonsense fed to the worshippers of the One-God. Only he, the Creator God, of whom even I do not know much about is omnipotent." His face softened and he said, Omnipotence! Bah! Leave that to the slave masses. Now once again was that always an oak tree?"

"No," I answered. "It was once an acorn."

"Then answer me this Ragnar Storyteller," he leaned closer and his one eye sparkled in the night. "How did that little acorn know it was supposed to be an oak tree?"

"I am not sure that it knew it was supposed to be an oak tree," I said. "It sort of did it naturally."

"Right," Odin bellowed. "Naturally, that is the correct word, naturally." He paused. "To grow into what it was intended to grow into. It had no choice. Within that little acorn there were the blue prints, pictures of what it could be, and it just grew naturally into it."

I shook my head knowingly.

"Inside every human?" I asked. "Is there a blue print? A blue print to become a god?"

"I am not sure about every human," he pondered as he rubbed his chin."That is for the Gods of the others to decide. I only know about my kinsmen, those whose care I have been entrusted with. When you start to use those words 'All' and 'Everyone' ... well that's when, not only do you get into trouble but it makes you want to fight for you own particular brand of 'allness'.

"All is an obscure a word as omnipotent," he continued. "I am only interested in my race, a race of individuals." He stopped and turned his head up so that the swirling snow fell on his face and into his open mouth. "Ah, too much talking makes me thirsty," he smiled and licked the snow flakes. "Love the snow. Healthy, refreshing, natural." He bent a little closer and beckoned me towards him with his finger.

Looking to the right and then to the left he whispered, "you don't, by chance have a little mead stored away in that iron horse of yours, do you?"

I shook my head no.

"Ah, well maybe it's for the best." he smiled. "Mead has an effect of turning me into the God of Boasting and your after truth are you not?"

Again I shook my head.

Odin licked his lips and said," I don't know how she always knows, but she does."

"Who?" I asked.

"Lady Frigga, the All-Mother," he frowned. "My wife. No matter how cleverly I try to hide a bottle of mead or two for my journey, she finds out and takes them."

I smiled to thinking to myself that even Gods have domestic problems.

"Damn that feminine magic. Wish I knew it," he snorted. "More powerful than anything I know. She says if I take mead with me, I will start boasting and get into trouble just like I did when I went to visit Jorgumund the Giant in ..."

He paused and smiled."Now if you had a little mead, I might be bribed into telling you that tale. You'd like to hear it wouldn't you?"

"I know it," I said. "The acorn!"

"Damn Edda's. Who told the Icelanders to write all about me. Who gave them permission to write books about me?"

"You did," I smiled.

"You're a wise one Ragnar Storyteller. You're going to go far. Now where was I?"

"The acorn, allness," I reminded him.

"Ah yes. Can everyone become a God you ask? Well did every acorn know it was suppose to become an oak tree?"

"Yes, now that you have explained what naturally means. I am sure that each acorn had ..."

He interrupted, "A destiny?"

"Yes, that's a good word. Yes each acorn had a destiny to become an oak tree," I said.

"Then why didn't they? What happened to over 95% of them?" he asked.

I shrugged my shoulders.

"They were eaten by birds, by animals. Many of them fell on rocky soil instead of fertile ground. Many fell in rivers, ponds or streams.It is not easy for an acorn to become a tree. It needs good soil, good water and good sunshine..." Odin said.

Ellis Peterson AKA Ragnar Storyteller is a retired math professor and electronics engineer. He has been studying astrology, runes, metaphysics and alternate healing treatments for over 30 years. He is 70+, in very good health and lives in the boonies of the Pocono mountains with his wife Lory. His writings are unique and refreshing.

To see more of his writings visit his websites.


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