Conversations With Norse God Odin
On A Snowy Road In Pennsylvania
by: Ragnar Storyteller
PART 1: The Accident
The snow started as a light flurry, 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 cris 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 inconvenience, 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
kidded 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 stories 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?"
"Pennsylvania."
"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 Yaggsdrasil 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 confusion. 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 struggles 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. Somehow he had cloaked us from sight and the
oncoming car never saw us.
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?"
"Rescue, comfort and ease or mystery, cold and danger? Choose for
another car approaches and I can go and let them find you."
PART 2: The Questions
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