ÁLFABLÓT

(The Old Norse counterpart to Halloween or Samhain)

Today Hallowe’en is celebrated in many English-speaking countries. This originated with the Celtic festival of Samhain. In our family it is also the birthday of our middle son!

I am writing to you today from our Forest House in Sweden. We visited a large supermarket in the nearest town on Friday and at the roundabout near this shop a display of (very bedraggled looking) ghosts had been erected. The first thing I saw upon entering the supermarket was an abundance of shelves stacked with Halloween decorations and sweets for trick-or-treating. This is a fairly new development! Hallowe’en is not indigenous to Sweden. The phenomenon arrived here some time in the 1990s. For good or for bad, we all live in a global village!

Driving home there was a story on Swedish radio titled “Bus eller frukt” (meaning “trick-or-fruit”) Apparently some children had gone trick-or-treating over the weekend (a bit early by British standards!) and received tangerines or mandarins for their efforts – they were not pleased and they had responded with trickery!

As a mother of three children I understand that children crave scary costumes and collecting candy but, actually, Scandinavia has a perfect valid tradition of its own, for this period. It is shame that this has (largely) dropped into collective oblivion - though Heathen people have always kept the tradition alive and thankfully many Heathen/Pagan people are rediscovering and actively  reviving old customs today.

My students of Seiðr often ask: “Did the Old Norse people have a festival or ritual comparable to the Day of the Dead , at this time of year?” The answer is yes, the Álfablót, The name literally means “The Sacrifice (or offering ceremony) to the Elves”. This requires a bit of explanation.

The Elves (or Álfar) in the Northern European Tradition are not “fairies”, but the souls of male dead ancestors who live on as nature spirits. They often live in burial mounds, though we also find them under big rocks, in caves or in the mountains. We can still communicate with them and making offerings is a respectful way of doing so.

By making offerings we acknowledge that they too once walked the land and that they have now become part of the spiritual weave of the land. They do not (necessarily or automatically) fit a term often heard in core shamanism: “helping spirits”, though they can choose to be helpful! By honouring them we ensure that they are “on our side” and that we have their cooperation and protection during the winter months (remember that Scandinavian winters are prolonged, harsh and severe).

In the Old Norse way of thinking every gift (gåva in contemporary Swedish) required a return gift (gengåva). There is nothing cynical about this, it follows the spiritual law of keeping all exchanges balanced. (Today we often speak of the principle of fair energy exchange or sacred reciprocity).

In the past farm animals would have been sacrificed and their blood poured out as a sacred offering (blót is the old Old Norse word for blood) but today most practitioners feel that alternative offerings are acceptable (seasonal foods, drink, the favourite food or drink of ancestors we used to know in real life, or other - as individually guided by your gods and spirits).

Let me also explain that the Álfar are the male ancestors. The female ancestors (Dísir) have their own special day in the Yule period (Modranatt or Ancestral Mothers’ Night) as well as the Dísablót (Offering ritual to the female ancestors) in early Spring.

The fertility god Freyr (twin brother of the goddess Freyja) is known as the Lord of the Elves and his Otherworld domain is called Álfheimr (the Realm of the Elves). It could be argued that this poses an interesting window on the issue of reincarnation: the Lord of Fertility is also the (male) Lord of Souls of the Dead. That is worth sitting with!

When we bought our house in Sweden I promised the landvaettir (spirits of the land) and the "tomte of our tomt " (the spirit of our property, not to be confused with Father Christmas – who also goes by the name of Tomte in Sweden!) that I would observe the ancient festivals and traditions as faithfully as my own understanding allows. Of course my understanding continues to develop as I do more research, the learning never ends.

One summer I was guided to build a small cairn on our property. I carved a Bone Woman from antler bone, put her inside and dedicated the cairn to her. This was inspired by the Icelandic phenomenon of the Beinakerling.

I usually wait for nightfall (which arrives at 4 p.m. here, this time of year) and make a small pilgrimage to this cairn. I bring my Rune Drum, a candle and offerings of ale and meat (the traditional offerings for an Álfablót).

I drum and call in the Deep Ancestors (whose names we do not remember), the Ancestors of Place, the landvaettir, the animals ancestors of all local animal species and the ancestors that live on in local memory and stories. (A few years ago we asked a local farmer to accompany us to the cemetery of this parish and tell us about the dead people he used to know while they were alive!)

As a teacher (and lifelong student) of Norse Mythology and Cosmology I also call in the great skalds, bards and the writers of the Eddic poetry (including Snorri Sturlason, who gave us The Prose Edda).

I drum and chant. I pour ale over the cairn and offer the food.

Odinn’s name literally means “The Spirit” (Odr means Spirit/Frenzy/Poetry + the definite article “inn”) and he is associated with the wind, sacred breath and The Wild Hunt.

Today I will also make a point of honouring the trees. There is logging in process again, in our neck of the woods. I went for a walk yesterday to see what exactly they are doing, to the tune of gunshots being fired not far off. For some reason I did not stay out too long!

The cutting down of my tree friends always hurts my feelings. I often go out at midnight, when the loggers are safely tucked up in their caravans, to drum for the trees and chant runes for them. Sometimes I even paint runes on the tree stumps. (I think of this as Rune Activism). So today I will honour all tree ancestors, all felled trees.

Last year the most powerful thing about my small blót was that every time I called in another round of ancestors – the wind responded by making a howling noise and curling all around me, gripping or hugging me. Yet the same wind did not rip the large Rune Drum out of my hands.

I felt that my Álfablót was well-received. The season of the Wild Hunt is now upon us.

Imelda Almqvist, Forest House, Sweden