That’s how he did it, by hanging from a tree,
how Óðinn won the ancient runes.
He challenges us to change our lives
by seeking those mysteries. And so we must,
by hanging also on a hallowed tree.
But what is Yggdrasil, and where might it be,
Freud is famous for phallic tobacco,
though he said at times it’s simply not.
But maybe it’s more than a mass of leaves,
brown and oily as if born from dirt.
Take from the top shelf this tube, for instance.
“Carpe Noctem” is its clever name,
The supreme executive’s power derives
from the masses’ mandate, so a man has said.
But isn’t that how we enabled this mess,
where the same-old same-old has ceased to work?
Could the status quo have stayed much longer?
When power comes from the people below,
Truly creation is a time of chaos.
Not petty disorder, but potential vast,
unmanifested, a magical void.
It’s a time of chaos with Trump right now:
the media said it and mouthed it endlessly.
Will America be . . . made great again?
What about you, where do you fit?
All the events in the upper worlds
impact us here, though they’re petty there.
Mother Frau Holle is making her bed,
shaking her blankets, shaking them vigorously
and we get a blanket of the whitest snow.
The continual din of the day is tapered,
Hatched from the Egg, he was hungry always;
that cosmic hailstone crafted such wyrd.
In size he surged, consuming carrion:
strong and stately, he stood at last.
He was sleek and fierce, but unsatisfied.
That fleshy fodder had fulfilled its end,
but such food no longer could feed his soul.
His keen cold eyes, they craved new vistas,
and his heart sought out the holy mysteries.
To the Cave he went, that court of darkness
and Lunar land of limitless night,
seeking its treasures for his soul’s triumph.
He came at last to cauldrons three
filled with the ferment of fathomless Spirit.
With the work of his MA/MPhil finished, it was left to the Skald to relax and enjoy early summer and the outdoor life in Oslo with his lady. Many hills, forests, lakes, sea shores, and islands were explored. But his time to leave Europe finally arrived, and after another tearful goodbye, the Skald finally departed Oslo to visit Iceland once more on his way home to Vinland. There, the Skald rejoiced in seeing many happy and familiar sights once more, such as Háskóli Íslands, Gullfoss, Geysir, Þingvellir (including the Ásatruarfélagið’s midsummer Þingblót), and Bláa Lónið. Finally, the Skald attended his graduation on June 25. After nearly eleven months abroad, the Skald returned to Vinland on June 30. Though his future directions were as yet uncertain, it was a time to celebrate further and enjoy the company of family and friends. With his time in the Viking and Medieval Norse Studies program finally finished, the Skald composed this verse:
Sweet celebrations sealed my triumph,
a victory won in Viking Studies.
Then Norway’s nature was a needed break: