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There’s a word in Old Norse that carries more weight than its simple translation lets on. That word is hamingja: often glossed as luck, but in truth, it’s something far deeper. It is a spirit, a force, a living current of fortune that flows through a person, their deeds, and even their bloodline.To the ancient Norse and other Germanic peoples, hamingja wasn’t mere chance... it was an expression of one’s soul and the moral fabric of their life. It was the invisible measure of how well one lived in alignment with honor, kinship, and right relationship with the gods and the ancestors.Let’s explore what this mysterious power was, how it worked, and what it still means for us today.<h2>What Is Hamingja? More Than Just “Luck”.</h2>In the sagas and early Norse sources, hamingja is described both as a person’s fortune and as a kind of guardian spirit that shapes the course of their life. Scholar Rudolf Simek defines it as “a kind of tutelary spirit determining the luck and happiness of a person” (Dictionary of Northern Mythology, 1993).But it’s not a "coin toss" kind of luck... it’s earned&nbsp; luck. It’s the kind of fortune that grows through courage, generosity, integrity, and right action.The Icelandic sagas speak of people who could lend their hamingja to another, sharing their spiritual strength so that others might succeed. In Óláfs saga helga, for example, the warrior Hjalti Skeggjason asks King Óláfr to “lay his hamingja” upon him before embarking on a dangerous expedition. This wasn’t symbolic encouragement... it was a real transfer of divine power, tied to the king’s own spirit and destiny.So, when we talk about hamingja, we’re talking about more than personal luck. We’re talking about a living thread of power that runs through the family line, growing stronger or weaker depending on how we live.<figure id="figure-rn35q1kfr2mhknw59d"><img id="rn35q1kfr2mhknw59d" src="https://cdn.durable.co/blocks/22FaYGqaaqO7TxgR06r04WE78fsWK3GiLzK3UNAEd362P9lAGZEcQkllAdVLeNmN.jpg" alt="" title="" class="object-cover bg-gray-100 " style="aspect-ratio: 16/9; object-position: undefined undefined;" data-corners="default" data-aspect="16:9" data-caption="Group of women in Njal’s Saga from the Njal tapestry made in 2020" data-positionx="undefined" data-positiony="undefined" data-fullwidth="false" data-mce-src="https://cdn.durable.co/blocks/22FaYGqaaqO7TxgR06r04WE78fsWK3GiLzK3UNAEd362P9lAGZEcQkllAdVLeNmN.jpg" data-mce-style="aspect-ratio: 16/9; object-position: undefined undefined;"><figcaption class="body-normal text-gray-500 mt-2">Group of women in Njal’s Saga from the Njal tapestry made in 2020</figcaption></figure><h2>The Hamingja as Spirit and Companion</h2>Some sources suggest that the hamingja could even take form,&nbsp; appearing as a spirit-being or animal double (sometimes blending with the concepts of fylgja or hamr).In Hrólfs saga kraka, the hero Böðvarr Bjarki’s spirit manifests as a great bear fighting beside his king... a powerful image of one’s inner might taking shape in the physical world.Other tales describe a person’s hamingja appearing in dreams, warning of danger or signaling a turning of fate. Like a guardian spirit, it was thought to follow you through life, protecting you if you were in good standing , or leaving you if you strayed from the path of honor.<h2>How Hamingja Can Be Damaged or Lost</h2>The sagas make it clear that not all luck lasts forever. A person’s hamingja can be weakened, corrupted, or even lost. But not through superstition or random misfortune... rather, through choices that violate the moral and spiritual order of one’s world.<ol><li>Dishonor and Betrayal – Breaking oaths, committing cowardice, or acting without integrity could cause a person’s hamingja to turn away. A man who lost his honor in the eyes of his kin would soon find his fortune gone as well.</li><li>Exile or Isolation – Because hamingja is bound to kinship and community, separation from one’s people could diminish its strength. A lone wanderer without bonds has no one to feed his spirit’s well of fortune.</li><li>Curses and Hostile Magic – Norse sources are filled with accounts of seidhr and curses. A malicious practitioner might “bind” another’s luck, effectively harming their hamingja. In Egil’s Saga, the poet Egill carved a rune curse and erected a horse’s head on a pole to banish the guardian spirits of his enemies – essentially sending away their hamingja. As Neil Price discusses in The Viking Way (2002), the ancients took the manipulation of luck very seriously.</li></ol><figure id="figure-g584ybl3cvmhkoibjl"><img id="g584ybl3cvmhkoibjl" src="https://cdn.durable.co/blocks/2e6Poaj2xyCL6gJLo3ssnOHzX2f9TijExfgDC5Tao0K1792HrqMLQHdmPBEWu3kc.jpg" alt="" title="" class="object-cover bg-gray-100 " style="aspect-ratio: 16/9; object-position: 50% 5%;" data-corners="default" data-aspect="16:9" data-caption="Groa chanting protective spells, illustration by W. G. Collingwood" data-positionx="50%" data-positiony="5%" data-fullwidth="false" data-mce-src="https://cdn.durable.co/blocks/2e6Poaj2xyCL6gJLo3ssnOHzX2f9TijExfgDC5Tao0K1792HrqMLQHdmPBEWu3kc.jpg" data-mce-style="aspect-ratio: 16/9; object-position: 50% 5%;"><figcaption class="body-normal text-gray-500 mt-2">Groa chanting protective spells, illustration by W. G. Collingwood</figcaption></figure><h2>Healing and Restoring Hamingja </h2>Though the sagas don’t contain a “manual” for repairing hamingja, they do show patterns: ways that one’s fortune and spirit could be restored. And for the modern Heathen, these methods still resonate deeply.<ul><li>Righting Wrongs - In Egil’s Saga, the hero repeatedly restores his standing through bold acts, generosity, and poetic expression. When we repair harm we’ve caused, we begin to reweave the torn fabric of our own luck.</li><li>Honoring Ancestors and Gods - Since hamingja is often inherited, the living can strengthen it by building relationships with their forebears. Offerings, remembrance, and acts done in their name reinforce that living bond of fortune and spirit. Hilda Ellis Davidson noted that “luck and ancestral blessing were inseparable in early Northern belief” (The Road to Hel, 1943).</li><li>Restoring Balance Through Deeds - The Norse idea of luck is reciprocal: what you give returns. Acts of courage, generosity, and creation strengthen your personal and family hamingja... while greed, cruelty, and apathy drain it away.</li></ul>Think of it as a spiritual economy of honor. What you feed, grows.<h2>The Growth and Transmission of Hamingja </h2>One of the most fascinating aspects of hamingja is that it’s heritable. When someone dies, their hamingja doesn’t simply vanish: it continues on, often passing to a child or beloved kin. This is how families in the sagas explain the endurance of good fortune through generations.A strong family line wasn’t just genetic, it was spiritual inheritance. The descendants of mighty, honorable people were said to carry a more powerful hamingja, a current of success flowing down through time.In modern Heathen thought, we might say that our hamingja is strengthened when we live in ways that would make our ancestors proud... and that we, in turn, are building a stronger hamingja for those who come after us.<figure id="figure-m3mzra0vxkmhkooxz4"><img id="m3mzra0vxkmhkooxz4" src="https://media.gettyimages.com/id/1396974693/photo/sacred-place-in-the-altai-steppe-a-place-of-pagan-worship-the-grave-is-ancient.jpg?b=1&amp;s=2048x2048&amp;w=0&amp;k=20&amp;c=UV4auGBDWefCT0T3AGru7Ug8KUgpH7RfhSIoBv-Fhmw=" alt="sacred place in the Altai steppe. A place of pagan worship. The grave is ancient." title="sacred place in the Altai steppe. A place of pagan worship. The grave is ancient." class="object-cover bg-gray-100 " style="aspect-ratio: 16/9; object-position: center center;" data-corners="default" data-aspect="16:9" data-caption="sacred place in the Altai steppe. A place of pagan worship. The grave is ancient." data-positionx="undefined" data-positiony="undefined" data-fullwidth="false" data-mce-src="https://media.gettyimages.com/id/1396974693/photo/sacred-place-in-the-altai-steppe-a-place-of-pagan-worship-the-grave-is-ancient.jpg?b=1&amp;s=2048x2048&amp;w=0&amp;k=20&amp;c=UV4auGBDWefCT0T3AGru7Ug8KUgpH7RfhSIoBv-Fhmw=" data-mce-style="aspect-ratio: 16/9; object-position: center center;"><figcaption class="body-normal text-gray-500 mt-2">sacred place in the Altai steppe. A place of pagan worship. The grave is ancient.</figcaption></figure><h2>Where the Hamingja Goes After Death </h2>So what happens when we die? According to several saga hints and later folklore, the hamingja doesn’t simply dissolve. It lingers, watching over kin, joining the host of the dísir... the ancestral female spirits who guide and protect their descendants.In this way, a person’s luck - their hamingja - becomes part of their family’s living spirit. The deeds of the living feed the dead, and the strength of the dead empowers the living.It’s a beautiful cycle: fortune, spirit, and kinship intertwined beyond death.<h2>The Living Relationship: What Hamingja Does For Us Today </h2>When we live in alignment with our virtues, honor our commitments, and maintain right relationships with both the living and the dead, we strengthen our hamingja. It manifests as intuition, confidence, synchronicity, and resilience... that subtle sense that the universe itself is working with you.Conversely, when we lie, act selfishly, or neglect our oaths, our luck seems to sour - not because of cosmic punishment, but because we’ve cut ourselves off from the flow of our own spiritual vitality.To live with a strong hamingja, then, is to live with courage, gratitude, and awareness that our spirit is not isolated ... it’s a part of something ancient and vast. The old Norse word hamingja might translate as “luck,” but it truly means relationship... to oneself, to the gods, to one’s kin, and to the deeds that define one’s name. When we honor our ancestors, live bravely, keep our word, and build good will, we are not only shaping our present.&nbsp; We’re weaving the fortune of those who will carry our name after us.“Cattle die, and kinsmen die, And so one dies oneself; But the fair fame never dies Of him who has earned it well.”And that fame... that enduring luck, that living breath of legacy is nothing less than our hamingja.<figure id="figure-lyz29yu0zmhkoys8f"><img id="lyz29yu0zmhkoys8f" src="https://media.gettyimages.com/id/2200451532/photo/red-lonely-flower-in-the-darkness-dark-creepy-woodland.jpg?b=1&amp;s=2048x2048&amp;w=0&amp;k=20&amp;c=2CkRwCXweI4d3WJAgvgfQWMhS2BvYS-nLDDgby9LB4s=" alt="" title="" class="object-cover bg-gray-100 " style="aspect-ratio: 16/9; object-position: center center;" data-corners="default" data-aspect="16:9" data-caption="" data-positionx="undefined" data-positiony="undefined" data-fullwidth="false" data-mce-src="https://media.gettyimages.com/id/2200451532/photo/red-lonely-flower-in-the-darkness-dark-creepy-woodland.jpg?b=1&amp;s=2048x2048&amp;w=0&amp;k=20&amp;c=2CkRwCXweI4d3WJAgvgfQWMhS2BvYS-nLDDgby9LB4s=" data-mce-style="aspect-ratio: 16/9; object-position: center center;"></figure>Suggested Reading &amp; Sources <ul><li>Óláfs saga helga (in Heimskringla) – the Hjalti Skeggjason episode.</li><li>Hrólfs saga kraka – the bear-form spirit of Böðvarr Bjarki.</li><li>Egils saga Skalla-Grímssonar – dreams, honour, and the ebb and flow of fortune.</li><li>Rudolf Simek, Dictionary of Northern Mythology (1993).</li><li>Neil Price, The Viking Way (2002).</li><li>H.R. Ellis Davidson, The Road to Hel (1943)</li><li>Andy Orchard, Dictionary of Norse Myth and Legend (1997).</li></ul>

The Mystery of Hamingja: Luck, Spirit, and Legacy in Norse and Germanic Belief

When most people think of runes today, two images usually come to mind: carving wards for protection, or casting runes to glimpse the future. While both of these uses have roots in historical sources, the story of the runes is far deeper and more complex. In the Viking Age and earlier, runes were not just a magical alphabet; &nbsp;they were a living script used for memory, identity, and power. To understand how they were used in the past, we have to turn to archaeology, sagas, and Eddic poetry.What emerges is a picture of the runes as tools for far more than magic, and of heathen spellwork as much broader than runes alone.<h2>What People Actually Used Runes For (Historical &amp; Attested)</h2><figure id="figure-n749iflrwhmfyeg6u6"><img id="n749iflrwhmfyeg6u6" src="https://media.gettyimages.com/id/2220183046/photo/woman-with-wooden-runes-at-divination-mat-closeup.jpg?b=1&amp;s=2048x2048&amp;w=0&amp;k=20&amp;c=UH4Wd1yGR5_ytUI8jdrw-xNRnYazO5bzRKECuA-NrB4=" alt="Woman with wooden runes at divination mat, closeup" title="Woman with wooden runes at divination mat, closeup" class="object-cover bg-gray-100 " style="aspect-ratio: 16/9; object-position: center center;" data-corners="default" data-aspect="16:9" data-caption="" data-positionx="undefined" data-positiony="undefined" data-fullwidth="false" data-mce-src="https://media.gettyimages.com/id/2220183046/photo/woman-with-wooden-runes-at-divination-mat-closeup.jpg?b=1&amp;s=2048x2048&amp;w=0&amp;k=20&amp;c=UH4Wd1yGR5_ytUI8jdrw-xNRnYazO5bzRKECuA-NrB4=" data-mce-style="aspect-ratio: 16/9; object-position: center center;"></figure>Everyday Writing and Identity It’s worth remembering that most runic inscriptions are not magical at all. Archaeologists find them on memorial stones, tools, jewelry, and everyday objects. They marked ownership, commemorated the dead, or recorded short messages. This tells us that runes were part of everyday literacy and identity, not only ritual tools.Healing and Charms That said, runes were often used in healing charms. The Canterbury Charm (11th century) is a clear example of runes used against disease, and Anglo-Saxon medical texts (Lacnunga) often blend herbal remedies with incantations. Saga literature also preserves episodes where runes are used to heal or harm.Protection and Amulets Runes carved onto drinking horns, weapons, or small amulets were believed to protect their bearers. In Egils saga, Egill Skallagrímsson famously uses runes to detect poison in a horn of ale, saving his life. Archaeological finds — such as bracteates inscribed with short formulas like alu — are often interpreted as protective or magical charms.Victory, Battle, and Love The Sigrdrífumál (part of the Poetic Edda) contains advice on carving “victory-runes” into sword hilts for success in battle, and “ale-runes” for other outcomes. Other stories describe runes being used in love-magic or curses, with skilled rune-workers carving or erasing inscriptions to alter outcomes. These examples highlight the dual nature of rune-magic: it could bless or bind, heal or harm.Ritual and Symbolic Uses Runes were sometimes used not as words, but as symbols that carried entire concepts. A single rune could stand for victory, justice, or protection. When inscribed on ritual objects or sacred places, runes acted as condensed carriers of meaning — much like a sigil or emblem.Divination and Hidden Knowledge Of course, divination was also part of rune-lore. The Hávamál preserves the myth of Odin’s self-sacrifice to gain the runes, portraying them as keys to hidden wisdom. Casting or interpreting runes as a way of accessing the unknown is a practice with deep mythic roots, even if our exact methods today are modern reconstructions.<h2>Was All Heathen Spellwork Runic?</h2>The short answer is no. While rune-magic was powerful and respected, it was not the only method. Heathen spellwork also included:<ul><li>Seiðr — ecstatic, trance-based practices often connected with prophecy and fate-weaving.</li><li>Galdr — spoken or sung incantations, sometimes accompanied by ritual action.</li><li>Material magic — herbs, knots, carved poles, and other physical implements.</li></ul>The runes were part of a much wider web of magical practice, not the whole of it.<h2>What The Sagas Say</h2><figure id="figure-8ec111emfmfyelqbc"><img id="8ec111emfmfyelqbc" src="https://media.gettyimages.com/id/2191667948/photo/scribe-writing-ancient-manuscript.jpg?b=1&amp;s=2048x2048&amp;w=0&amp;k=20&amp;c=W-NpeenElLnBM7RsklT0rXUUPHB5oc0xrN8JpcB4aj8=" alt="" title="" class="object-cover bg-gray-100 " style="aspect-ratio: 16/9; object-position: center center;" data-corners="default" data-aspect="16:9" data-caption="" data-positionx="undefined" data-positiony="undefined" data-fullwidth="false" data-mce-src="https://media.gettyimages.com/id/2191667948/photo/scribe-writing-ancient-manuscript.jpg?b=1&amp;s=2048x2048&amp;w=0&amp;k=20&amp;c=W-NpeenElLnBM7RsklT0rXUUPHB5oc0xrN8JpcB4aj8=" data-mce-style="aspect-ratio: 16/9; object-position: center center;"></figure>The Icelandic sagas preserve some of the richest accounts of rune-use, blending narrative with cultural memory:<ul><li>Egils saga Skalla-Grímssonar (c. 13th century): Egill carves runes to expose poison in a drinking horn and to heal a sick woman by erasing harmful runes carved incorrectly (ch. 72–74). These episodes reveal both the dangers and benefits of rune-magic.</li><li>Sigrdrífumál (Poetic Edda): the valkyrie Sigrdrífa teaches Sigurðr about various rune types — victory-runes, ale-runes, birth-runes, and more — showing how runes were tied to multiple domains of life.</li><li>Hávamál (Poetic Edda): Odin’s self-sacrifice on the World Tree grants him knowledge of the runes, which he then describes as tools for healing, protection, binding, and revelation (stanzas 138–165).</li></ul>These texts are not instruction manuals, but they do reveal how rune-power was imagined: potent, versatile, and dangerous in the wrong hands.<h2>What Archaeology Shows</h2><figure id="figure-bnsg6bgk0bmfyeq55k"><img id="bnsg6bgk0bmfyeq55k" src="https://media.gettyimages.com/id/1066193824/photo/anglo-saxon-runes-printed-on-paper.jpg?b=1&amp;s=2048x2048&amp;w=0&amp;k=20&amp;c=b75ZWd-ljevcyhpFPFDJnfjIVbNvwlYm2o_f3cKnul0=" alt="Anglo-Saxon runes printed on paper" title="Anglo-Saxon runes printed on paper" class="object-cover bg-gray-100 " style="aspect-ratio: 3/2; object-position: center center;" data-corners="default" data-aspect="3:2" data-caption="Anglo-Saxon Futhorc Runes" data-positionx="undefined" data-positiony="undefined" data-fullwidth="false" data-mce-src="https://media.gettyimages.com/id/1066193824/photo/anglo-saxon-runes-printed-on-paper.jpg?b=1&amp;s=2048x2048&amp;w=0&amp;k=20&amp;c=b75ZWd-ljevcyhpFPFDJnfjIVbNvwlYm2o_f3cKnul0=" data-mce-style="aspect-ratio: 3/2; object-position: center center;"><figcaption class="body-normal text-gray-500 mt-2">Anglo-Saxon Futhorc Runes</figcaption></figure>Material evidence helps balance the saga accounts by showing how runes were used in daily life:<ul><li>Runestones: thousands of Viking Age memorial stones, most of which serve as records of lineage and remembrance rather than magical inscriptions.</li><li>Bracteates: small gold pendants from the Migration Period often inscribed with the formula alu, generally interpreted as a protective or magical word (MacLeod &amp; Mees 2006).</li><li>Everyday inscriptions: short rune-marks on combs, bone pieces, or tools, often simply ownership marks (“X owns me”), but sometimes carrying charm-like phrases.</li><li>The Canterbury Charm (11th century): a runic healing charm written in the margin of a manuscript, showing that runes could serve as ritual text in Christian England as well.</li></ul>The archaeological record reminds us that while runes could be magical, they were also an everyday alphabet used in many non-magical contexts.Runes are powerful, but they were never the sole language of magic. They served as an alphabet of daily life, tools of remembrance, and carriers of sacred power. If we look only at runes as fortune-telling symbols, we miss the richness of their place in the old northern world. To understand heathen magic, we must see runes as one thread woven into a larger tapestry... one that also includes song, trance, herbs, ritual, and the human imagination.<figure id="figure-tlpk793temfyet546"><img id="tlpk793temfyet546" src="https://media.gettyimages.com/id/507656105/photo/three-sets-of-fortune-telling-runes-on-colorful-mystical-cloth.jpg?b=1&amp;s=2048x2048&amp;w=0&amp;k=20&amp;c=mY9xva2ofQY3nDGzT4LHCjc1BUfWZKP6GoO5ltmW7PE=" alt="three sets of fortune telling runes on colorful mystical cloth" title="three sets of fortune telling runes on colorful mystical cloth" class="object-cover bg-gray-100 " style="aspect-ratio: 16/9; object-position: center center;" data-corners="default" data-aspect="16:9" data-caption="" data-positionx="undefined" data-positiony="undefined" data-fullwidth="false" data-mce-src="https://media.gettyimages.com/id/507656105/photo/three-sets-of-fortune-telling-runes-on-colorful-mystical-cloth.jpg?b=1&amp;s=2048x2048&amp;w=0&amp;k=20&amp;c=mY9xva2ofQY3nDGzT4LHCjc1BUfWZKP6GoO5ltmW7PE=" data-mce-style="aspect-ratio: 16/9; object-position: center center;"></figure>Sources:<ul><li>Poetic Edda: Hávamál (Rúnatal) and Sigrdrífumál on runes and magic.</li><li>Egils saga Skalla-Grímssonar: stories of runes carved to heal and protect.</li><li>Canterbury Charm: an 11th-century healing charm with runes.</li><li>Archaeology: bracteates inscribed with alu and other formulas.</li><li>Scholarly works: Raymond I. Page’s An Introduction to English Runes, Neil Price’s The Viking Way, and Mindy MacLeod &amp; Bernard Mees’ Runic Amulets and Magic Objects.</li></ul>

Beyond Wards and Fortune: The Many Uses of Runes in Heathen History

Over the years, I have seen various claims being made that the Wolfsangel is an "ancient runic symbol". This has annoyed me, especially given its contemporary assosication with alt-right nationalist and right-wing movements.&nbsp;The Wolfsangel (literally “wolf’s hook”) is a striking and often misunderstood symbol. Today it is widely circulated in discussions of Germanic symbols, sometimes falsely described as an ancient rune with pre-Christian religious significance. In reality, the Wolfsangel has a well-documented history as a medieval iron hunting tool and later as a heraldic emblem. Its supposed runic or pagan antiquity is a much later invention, born in the 19th–20th centuries and amplified by extremist appropriations in the modern era.This article provides a clear, evidence-based overview of the Wolfsangel’s origins, its medieval and early modern uses, and why scholarly consensus firmly rejects the notion that it was ever an ancient rune.<h2>What the Wolfsangel actually was (the material reality)</h2><figure id="figure-8t7l7oh6anmfgvu4qc" data-full-width=""><img id="8t7l7oh6anmfgvu4qc" src="https://cdn.durable.co/blocks/3Du8NUxqjpLEAY2Qla7QB3IUEICl5MPxpNm6zsiGKgZZQ8SCoYANfM8XwfT8iJ5P.png" alt="" title="" class="object-cover bg-gray-100 " style="aspect-ratio: 3/2; object-position: null% 45%;" data-corners="default" data-aspect="3:2" data-caption="A Wolfsangel trap from Emil Regemer's book about trapping secrets and hunting methods" data-positionx="null%" data-positiony="45%" data-fullwidth="true" data-mce-src="https://cdn.durable.co/blocks/3Du8NUxqjpLEAY2Qla7QB3IUEICl5MPxpNm6zsiGKgZZQ8SCoYANfM8XwfT8iJ5P.png" data-mce-style="aspect-ratio: 3/2; object-position: null% 45%;"><figcaption class="body-normal text-gray-500 mt-2">A Wolfsangel trap from Emil Regemer's book about trapping secrets and hunting methods</figcaption></figure>"Wolfsangel” literally means “wolf’s hook.” In historic usage it names an iron trap or a component of a trap used to catch wolves: a Z-shaped double hook (often with a ring or a crescent-shaped mounting bar) that was baited and hung from trees so that a wolf snapping at the bait would become trapped by its muzzle. As a physical object it’s attested in the late medieval and early modern material record and in hunting treatises and administrative records describing wolf-catching and forst practice.&nbsp;Important archaeological evidence: excavations at medieval sites have recovered iron “wolf-hooks.” For example, excavations at the Falkenburg (Detmold) yielded more than 25 wolf-hooks in a 13th-century context (reported by the regional archaeology press and summarized in local/academic coverage). Similar finds have been reported elsewhere, and specialist studies cataloging actual wolf- and fox-hooks exist. In short: the Wolfsangel begins as an iron tool, not an alphabetic sign.<h2>How it became a symbol (heraldry, seals, civic usage)</h2>Because the shape is visually distinctive, stylized representations of the double-hook (and related forms such as a hooked crescent with a suspended Z-hook) entered heraldry, municipal seals, and coats-of-arms in the later Middle Ages and early modern period. You can see the device in numerous German and eastern French municipal/municipal-family arms and in seals. One often-cited medieval appearance is a late medieval seal/coats context (examples appear in local archives and heraldic surveys). Over time the device became a local or regional emblem (also used as a forst/forest mark in administrative contexts).&nbsp;Two important points follow from this:<ul><li>The medieval/historic trajectory is: iron implement → stylized image → heraldic/municipal symbol (centuries, not millennia).</li><li>The earliest documented appearances are medieval — not pre-Christian. </li></ul><h2>The claim that the Wolfsangel is an “ancient rune”: why that’s wrong</h2><figure id="figure-nafkxcu5rmfgwdpgu" class=""><img id="nafkxcu5rmfgwdpgu" src="https://cdn.durable.co/blocks/cNl8vtBbppboDByfEwbCPBCNBPfm8zfovoJIoaNTSIvEhG5T3MMk9HCa2slrEwJH.jpg" alt="" title="" class="object-cover bg-gray-100 " style="aspect-ratio: 16/9; object-position: 0% undefined%;" data-corners="default" data-aspect="16:9" data-caption="" data-positionx="0%" data-positiony="undefined%" data-fullwidth="false" data-mce-src="https://cdn.durable.co/blocks/cNl8vtBbppboDByfEwbCPBCNBPfm8zfovoJIoaNTSIvEhG5T3MMk9HCa2slrEwJH.jpg" data-mce-style="aspect-ratio: 16/9; object-position: 0% undefined%;"></figure>Two mutually reinforcing facts disprove the claim that the Wolfsangel is a historical Germanic rune:<ol><li>The runic corpus (Elder Futhark / Younger Futhark / Anglo-Saxon futhorc) is well-studied and catalogued; the Wolfsangel isn’t a member of those alphabets. The Elder Futhark (the oldest widely attested runic row, 2nd–8th c. CE) and its descendants are known from inscriptions and stones; rune names and forms are documented. No genuine early runic inscription or early medieval rune row includes an element that matches a Wolfsangel as a letter. Put simply: the historical runic alphabets contain specific rune-forms (ᚠ ᚢ ᚦ … etc.), and the Wolfsangel is not one of them.</li><li>The “resemblance” argument has been conflated with later inventions. In the modern period (late 19th/early 20th century) nationalist and esoteric authors reinvented runes and proposed extra-runic signs. Most famously, Guido von List and other esotericists proposed the Armanen runes (a private, modern “futhark” invented in the 1900s) and associated invented rune names and meanings with various shapes. One of these modern pseudo-runes (often called the “gibor” or similar in Armanen/neo-runic systems) visually resembles the Z/Ƶ-form and was retroactively claimed to be “ancient.” That invention is modern — it’s not supported by historical runology. Scholars who trace the occult/Nazi appropriation make this clear: the Armanen runes are an esoteric modern construct, not an archaeological or epigraphic discovery.</li></ol>Put bluntly: similarity of shape is not evidence of historical continuity; the weight of the evidence (archaeology, seals, medieval documents, the catalogued runic corpus) points the other way: Wolfsangel = medieval iron device / heraldic motif; alleged “runic” identity = modern invention. <h2>Where the “runic myth” actually comes from (short history of the idea).</h2><figure id="figure-zzhdhy4kuomfgwnm0c"><img id="zzhdhy4kuomfgwnm0c" src="https://cdn.durable.co/blocks/3SQVNEIo0jrShBm1eFx0cuFP7gSIVx1hd8Ok0wWtls5KgDbTm44bSDoROEMGfsjv.png" alt="" title="" class="object-cover bg-gray-100 " style="aspect-ratio: 1/1; object-position: center center;" data-corners="default" data-aspect="1:1" data-caption="" data-positionx="undefined" data-positiony="undefined" data-fullwidth="false" data-mce-src="https://cdn.durable.co/blocks/3SQVNEIo0jrShBm1eFx0cuFP7gSIVx1hd8Ok0wWtls5KgDbTm44bSDoROEMGfsjv.png" data-mce-style="aspect-ratio: 1/1; object-position: center center;"></figure><ul><li>19th–early 20th century: romantic nationalism and esotericism revived interest in “Germanic” motifs; some occultists (notably Guido von List and those influenced by him) created and promoted a set of “Armanen” runes and attached ideological meaning to various marks. Those modern inventions were then picked up by nationalist groups. Good scholarly work traces this link between occult runic reinventions and later political appropriation.&nbsp;</li><li>20th century: during the Nazi era certain units and organizations adopted medieval or pseudo-medieval symbols (including various Z-shaped marks and the Wolfsangel in several unit badges and insignia). After World War II the Wolfsangel was reused by neo-Nazi and extremist groups in some countries; contemporary hate-symbol monitors list it for that reason. But again: the use by 20th-century groups doesn’t make it a historical rune; it shows a modern ideological re-reading of a medieval device.</li></ul><h2>What the Evidence Shows</h2><ul><li>Archaeology: Wolfsangeln are found as iron hunting tools in medieval contexts (e.g., Falkenburg/Detmold, 13th c.).</li><li>Heraldry: Stylized Wolfsangel symbols appear in coats of arms and seals in the late Middle Ages and early modern period.</li><li>Runology: The Wolfsangel does not appear in the Elder Futhark, Younger Futhark, or Anglo-Saxon futhorc; no genuine runic inscription contains it.</li><li>Modern Myth: Its alleged “runic” identity comes from modern esoteric invention (Armanen runes, Guido von List) and later political usage.</li></ul>The simplest explanation is the best: the Wolfsangel is a medieval hunting tool turned heraldic device. Its supposed pagan antiquity is entirely unsupported by evidence.<h2>Conclusion</h2>The Wolfsangel is not an ancient rune. It is a medieval wolf-trap, later a heraldic symbol, and finally a modern political emblem. The absence of the Wolfsangel in the genuine runic corpus, combined with its clear archaeological and heraldic trajectory, proves that its “runic” reputation is a modern fiction.To present the Wolfsangel as a pre-Christian Germanic rune is to propagate a historical falsehood. The evidence shows otherwise: it belongs not to the age of runestones and Heathen rites, but to the age of medieval hunting and heraldry.<figure id="figure-whvoje4o1hmfgzelcv" class=""><img id="whvoje4o1hmfgzelcv" src="https://media.gettyimages.com/id/586347176/photo/r%C3%B6k-runstone.jpg?b=1&amp;s=2048x2048&amp;w=0&amp;k=20&amp;c=uWR_mH50-L0MT6uZ3J50R1rwdDtLaDOe_NtK4IBKzDQ=" alt="" title="" class="object-cover bg-gray-100 " style="aspect-ratio: 16/9; object-position: center center;" data-corners="default" data-aspect="16:9" data-caption="" data-positionx="null" data-positiony="null" data-fullwidth="false" data-mce-src="https://media.gettyimages.com/id/586347176/photo/r%C3%B6k-runstone.jpg?b=1&amp;s=2048x2048&amp;w=0&amp;k=20&amp;c=uWR_mH50-L0MT6uZ3J50R1rwdDtLaDOe_NtK4IBKzDQ=" data-mce-style="aspect-ratio: 16/9; object-position: center center;"></figure>Sources<ul><li>LWL-Archäologie für Westfalen, press releases and excavation reports (Falkenburg/Detmold wolf-hooks, 2021).</li><li>Goodrick-Clarke, Nicholas. The Occult Roots of Nazism. New York University Press, 1992.</li><li>Spurkland, Terje. Norwegian Runes and Runic Inscriptions. Boydell, 2005.</li><li>Simek, Rudolf. Runes: A Handbook. Boydell, 2022.</li><li>Anti-Defamation League (ADL). Hate Symbols Database: Wolfsangel.</li><li>"Wolfsangel." Wikipedia, with cited references to heraldic and archaeological evidence.</li></ul>

The Wolfsangel: Disentangling History from Myth

Ancient wooden slavic pagan idol of god. Heathen temple in the forest

In today’s modern Heathen and Pagan spaces, the phrase “chosen by the gods” is often spoken with pride—sometimes even used as a spiritual status symbol. But when we peel back the layers of modern projection and examine how the pre-Christian Germanic peoples actually understood the gods and their relationships with mortals, a very different picture emerges.To our ancestors, the gods were not recruiters of divine elite. They were not gatekeepers to heaven, nor moral overseers assigning worth. They were kin, patrons, distant forces, ancestral memories, and at times, terrifying powers to be respected more than embraced. If one was "chosen" by the gods, it meant stepping onto a path of Wyrd, where personal sacrifice, hardship, and transformation were not only expected—they were inevitable.<figure id="figure-hr29ufb91rmdcf9383"><img id="hr29ufb91rmdcf9383" src="https://media.gettyimages.com/id/564589414/photo/viking.jpg?b=1&amp;s=2048x2048&amp;w=0&amp;k=20&amp;c=GgQ4wfRI5nJMD0Ip3yaaV-o_t2TnN4wBu0yYqeSqFho=" alt="Viking" title="Viking" class="object-cover bg-gray-100 " style="aspect-ratio: 16/9; object-position: center center;" data-corners="default" data-aspect="16:9" data-caption="" data-positionx="undefined" data-positiony="undefined" data-fullwidth="false" data-mce-src="https://media.gettyimages.com/id/564589414/photo/viking.jpg?b=1&amp;s=2048x2048&amp;w=0&amp;k=20&amp;c=GgQ4wfRI5nJMD0Ip3yaaV-o_t2TnN4wBu0yYqeSqFho=" data-mce-style="aspect-ratio: 16/9; object-position: center center;"></figure><h3>What the Sources Say: Gods as Forces of Wyrd and Fate</h3>Our clearest window into the worldview of the early Germanic peoples comes from a handful of sources—some native, many external. In Germania (c. 98 CE), the Roman historian Tacitus described how Germanic tribes sought the will of the gods through divination—watching the flight of birds, the behavior of sacred horses, and the outcomes of lots cast in ritual. The gods revealed themselves through signs—not sermons.And when the gods did show up, it was rarely to offer comfort. In the Poetic Edda and sagas like the Volsunga Saga, we see the gods—particularly Óðinn—intervening in human lives in ways that are often destructive, tragic, or ambiguous. Sigurd, Brynhild, and other legendary figures were “chosen” not to live peaceful lives, but to walk harrowing paths of violence, loss, and destiny.Being chosen was not about validation. It was about being claimed—bound into a larger weave of fate (Wyrd) whose outcome was rarely favorable in any conventional sense.<figure id="figure-2vte6nygq6mdcfbfer"><img id="2vte6nygq6mdcfbfer" src="https://media.gettyimages.com/id/1465427841/photo/smoldering-white-sage-smudge-stick.jpg?b=1&amp;s=2048x2048&amp;w=0&amp;k=20&amp;c=T6mbcxzW3pvfk2033meyV-9HTr3j7JESzq90Lx9OS_0=" alt="Judgement Day" title="Judgement Day" class="object-cover bg-gray-100 " style="aspect-ratio: 16/9; object-position: center center;" data-corners="default" data-aspect="16:9" data-caption="" data-positionx="undefined" data-positiony="undefined" data-fullwidth="false" data-mce-src="https://media.gettyimages.com/id/1465427841/photo/smoldering-white-sage-smudge-stick.jpg?b=1&amp;s=2048x2048&amp;w=0&amp;k=20&amp;c=T6mbcxzW3pvfk2033meyV-9HTr3j7JESzq90Lx9OS_0=" data-mce-style="aspect-ratio: 16/9; object-position: center center;"></figure><h3>The Cost of Divine Attention</h3>If we follow the thread through lore and tradition, we see that divine selection is always paired with ordeal. Those who attract the eye of Óðinn often suffer madness, poetic frenzy, or restless wandering. Consider the figure of the berserkr—a warrior who, in his battle-fury, becomes possessed by something more-than-human. Or the seiðr-worker, who, by aligning with hidden forces, often suffers social isolation or a break with cultural norms (especially among men).This is not a cozy relationship with a “patron deity.” It’s transformation through fire. Those touched by the gods in the old stories come back changed—or don’t come back at all.Even the gods themselves were subject to fate. The Nornir spun the threads of Wyrd for gods and men alike. Óðinn himself was bound to seek knowledge at any cost—sacrificing an eye, hanging from the tree Yggdrasill, sacrificing himself to himself. If the Allfather could not escape sacrifice, why would we?<figure id="figure-i14ircqy9emdcfhboj"><img id="i14ircqy9emdcfhboj" src="https://media.gettyimages.com/id/2169745978/photo/ritual-place.jpg?b=1&amp;s=2048x2048&amp;w=0&amp;k=20&amp;c=hAminIZHNflcH3jb8bwEfUuLBurwQ6Y3tMeJrzMQ3Ak=" alt="ritual place" title="ritual place" class="object-cover bg-gray-100 " style="aspect-ratio: 16/9; object-position: center center;" data-corners="default" data-aspect="16:9" data-caption="" data-positionx="undefined" data-positiony="undefined" data-fullwidth="false" data-mce-src="https://media.gettyimages.com/id/2169745978/photo/ritual-place.jpg?b=1&amp;s=2048x2048&amp;w=0&amp;k=20&amp;c=hAminIZHNflcH3jb8bwEfUuLBurwQ6Y3tMeJrzMQ3Ak=" data-mce-style="aspect-ratio: 16/9; object-position: center center;"></figure><h3>Modern Misunderstandings </h3>So why do modern Heathens cling to the idea of being “chosen” as a form of spiritual validation?Part of the reason may lie in unconscious Christian influence—the idea of divine election, of being favored or saved by a higher power. But the Germanic worldview was far less comforting and far more reciprocal. The gods do not call without demanding something in return. There are no free blessings—only exchanges.When someone today claims they are “chosen by the gods,” it invites important questions:<ul><li>What does that mean in action, not just identity?</li><li>What burdens or responsibilities have you taken on?</li><li>What sacrifices have you made? </li><li>How has your Wyrd—your fate—been shaped by that encounter?</li></ul>Because in the ancient world, being chosen was not a badge of honor. It was a burden. It was being drawn into the greater weave of Wyrd, often without warning, and seldom with mercy.<figure id="figure-3p1r86l4xmdcfmjzv"><img id="3p1r86l4xmdcfmjzv" src="https://media.gettyimages.com/id/507896633/photo/stone-altar-and-fire-pit.jpg?b=1&amp;s=2048x2048&amp;w=0&amp;k=20&amp;c=3nZ_uMuCZYtCBzQUe2LNGLVjOaPB7C5ci_zdOp9CjrY=" alt="Stone altar and fire pit" title="Stone altar and fire pit" class="object-cover bg-gray-100 " style="aspect-ratio: 16/9; object-position: center center;" data-corners="default" data-aspect="16:9" data-caption="" data-positionx="undefined" data-positiony="undefined" data-fullwidth="false" data-mce-src="https://media.gettyimages.com/id/507896633/photo/stone-altar-and-fire-pit.jpg?b=1&amp;s=2048x2048&amp;w=0&amp;k=20&amp;c=3nZ_uMuCZYtCBzQUe2LNGLVjOaPB7C5ci_zdOp9CjrY=" data-mce-style="aspect-ratio: 16/9; object-position: center center;"></figure><h3>Conclusion: Burned Into the Weave &nbsp;</h3>The gods of our ancestors were not kind in the ways we often expect. They were true, demanding, and woven into the very fabric of the world. To be chosen by them was to be marked—sometimes to be broken and reforged.So before you claim the gods have chosen you, ask yourself: Are you walking the path, or just wearing the label?The Old Ways teach us that the gods choose not for ease, but for purpose—and that purpose may burn before it blesses. &nbsp;<h3> </h3>

"Chosen by the Gods": A Burden, Not a Badge in Germanic Heathenry

<blockquote>“Bifröst is the best of bridges, but it will burn when Muspell’s sons cross it.” — Grímnismál, Poetic Edda</blockquote>In modern times, the rainbow has become a symbol charged with meaning. For many, it signifies diversity, pride, peace, and even magic. In the wider Pagan community, and particularly among LGBTQ+ Pagans, the rainbow is often linked to Bifröst—the bridge between Midgard and Asgard in Norse cosmology. This association is popular, widely adopted, and repeated uncritically. But when we look at the sources and traditions of our Heathen ancestors, it becomes clear that the rainbow's role in Germanic myth has been exaggerated, and possibly misappropriated.As someone deeply rooted in Germanic Heathenry, I’ve had to ask: Was Bifröst truly meant to be a rainbow? Or is that simply a later overlay?<figure id="figure-qeuz5x75evmd4lglyj"><img id="qeuz5x75evmd4lglyj" src="https://media.gettyimages.com/id/1304195707/photo/young-woman-waving-lgbti-flag.jpg?b=1&amp;s=2048x2048&amp;w=0&amp;k=20&amp;c=PDWzSQo51mCjpyG2gM8z-L7c5CavS8ne87FZILCjL3I=" alt="Young woman waving lgbti flag" title="Young woman waving lgbti flag" class="object-cover bg-gray-100 " style="aspect-ratio: 16/9; object-position: center center;" data-corners="default" data-aspect="16:9" data-caption="" data-positionx="undefined" data-positiony="undefined" data-fullwidth="false" data-mce-src="https://media.gettyimages.com/id/1304195707/photo/young-woman-waving-lgbti-flag.jpg?b=1&amp;s=2048x2048&amp;w=0&amp;k=20&amp;c=PDWzSQo51mCjpyG2gM8z-L7c5CavS8ne87FZILCjL3I=" data-mce-style="aspect-ratio: 16/9; object-position: center center;"></figure><h3>Snorri’s Rainbow Bridge </h3>Most references to Bifröst as a rainbow trace back to one man: Snorri Sturluson, a 13th-century Icelandic Christian scholar. In his Prose Edda, specifically in Gylfaginning, he writes:<blockquote>“Þat er kallat Bifröst, en þú hefur kannskan heyrt kallað regnboga. Þat er þrír litir ok mjök sterkr ok gør annaz með meining.” “It is called Bifröst, but you may know it as the rainbow. It has three colors and is very strong, and made with skill and magic.”</blockquote>Snorri identifies Bifröst with the rainbow (regnbogi), describing it as a structure of three colors. But this is where things get complicated. Snorri was not only writing centuries after the old pagan religion had fallen out of practice—he was also doing so through a Christian lens, likely influenced by Classical and biblical symbolism (such as the rainbow after the Flood in Genesis).It's entirely possible—likely, even—that he imposed a rainbow image on Bifröst because it made sense to his Christian contemporaries.<h3>Older Sources Say Less</h3>When we turn to the Poetic Edda—an older and more poetically-driven source—the descriptions of Bifröst are much more vague. In Grímnismál, Bifröst is called “the best of bridges,” and we are told it will burn when the sons of Muspell (fire giants) cross it during Ragnarök.Nowhere in Grímnismál or the other mythic poems is the word regnbogi (rainbow) used in connection with Bifröst. Instead, the emphasis is on burning, brightness, and a bridge that shimmers and ultimately breaks. These features could just as easily describe something more volatile and ethereal than a rainbow.<figure id="figure-29zv9tly2omd4llc2z"><img id="29zv9tly2omd4llc2z" src="https://media.gettyimages.com/id/2219171349/photo/fantastic-wallpaper-abstract-neon-background-with-glowing-ascending-lines-network.jpg?b=1&amp;s=2048x2048&amp;w=0&amp;k=20&amp;c=rLMG6n9SUYFki4f81SsNsfgKstdUP_2v3HKQ6U_OlFc=" alt="Fantastic wallpaper. Abstract neon background with glowing ascending lines. Network infrastructure. Blockchain technology. Abstract futuristic neon background with glowing ascending lines. 3d render." title="Fantastic wallpaper. Abstract neon background with glowing ascending lines. Network infrastructure. Blockchain technology. Abstract futuristic neon background with glowing ascending lines. 3d render." class="object-cover bg-gray-100 " style="aspect-ratio: 16/9; object-position: center center;" data-corners="default" data-aspect="16:9" data-caption="" data-positionx="undefined" data-positiony="undefined" data-fullwidth="false" data-mce-src="https://media.gettyimages.com/id/2219171349/photo/fantastic-wallpaper-abstract-neon-background-with-glowing-ascending-lines-network.jpg?b=1&amp;s=2048x2048&amp;w=0&amp;k=20&amp;c=rLMG6n9SUYFki4f81SsNsfgKstdUP_2v3HKQ6U_OlFc=" data-mce-style="aspect-ratio: 16/9; object-position: center center;"></figure><h3>Linguistic Clues: Bifröst as a Shimmering Path </h3>Looking at the etymology offers further insight. Bifröst may derive from the Old Norse roots:<ul><li>bifa — to shimmer, shake, or move</li><li>röst — a path, ford, or stretch (also associated with distance)</li></ul>Taken together, Bifröst could be interpreted as “the shimmering way” or “the trembling path”—not necessarily a rainbow, but something alive, moving, radiant.This shimmering, ephemeral quality doesn’t belong to rainbows alone.<figure id="figure-fxtwfvbkvlmd4lo4lt" class=""><img id="fxtwfvbkvlmd4lo4lt" src="https://media.gettyimages.com/id/2185639217/photo/colorful-aurora-borealis-northern-lights-at-yellowknife-northwest-territories-canada.jpg?b=1&amp;s=2048x2048&amp;w=0&amp;k=20&amp;c=A-Oq-sWRZ7XsDjhVYaOia8yH4fqCFQG7D6_ig0u6H1A=" alt="Colorful Aurora Borealis, Northern Lights, at Yellowknife, Northwest Territories, Canada" title="Colorful Aurora Borealis, Northern Lights, at Yellowknife, Northwest Territories, Canada" class="object-cover bg-gray-100 " style="aspect-ratio: 16/9; object-position: center center;" data-corners="default" data-aspect="16:9" data-caption="" data-positionx="undefined" data-positiony="undefined" data-fullwidth="false" data-mce-src="https://media.gettyimages.com/id/2185639217/photo/colorful-aurora-borealis-northern-lights-at-yellowknife-northwest-territories-canada.jpg?b=1&amp;s=2048x2048&amp;w=0&amp;k=20&amp;c=A-Oq-sWRZ7XsDjhVYaOia8yH4fqCFQG7D6_ig0u6H1A=" data-mce-style="aspect-ratio: 16/9; object-position: center center;"></figure><h3>Northern Lights: The Overlooked Connection </h3>The aurora borealis, or northern lights, is another candidate. They shimmer. They burn. They appear in fiery colors—red, green, violet. They dance across the night sky in a way that evokes awe and mystery, much like Bifröst was described in myth.For the peoples of ancient Scandinavia, the aurora would have been a far more striking and memorable phenomenon than a simple rainbow, which can be seen almost anywhere on Earth. The aurora is region-specific, which may explain why it was never described with a generic term. It defies easy classification.Some folklorists and modern scholars like Kevin Crossley-Holland have proposed that the imagery of Bifröst may have originated in sightings of the aurora. And if we take the etymology seriously—“the shimmering path”—then this theory holds water.The aurora connects the earth and the heavens in a far more visceral way than a rainbow, which is dependent on sunlight and rain, not fire and sky.<h3>Symbolism and Subversion </h3>This brings me to the modern misalignment: today, the rainbow has been adopted by LGBTQ+ communities as a symbol of identity and pride. That is a modern and valid use in its own right—but the rainbow flag, and its cultural momentum, has also bled into Pagan circles, where it is too often projected backward onto traditions that never associated the rainbow with anything sacred.As someone who walks the Heathen path, I see a disconnect. The attempt to link the rainbow symbol with Bifröst may make for a beautiful metaphor—but it distorts the original meanings and strips away the nuances of our myths. Bifröst wasn’t a peaceful, inclusive banner of hope. It was a fiery, dangerous crossing guarded by Heimdallr and destined to shatter in the final war. It was a liminal space, not a celebration of diversity.This doesn’t mean people can’t have personal or spiritual relationships with the rainbow. But as Heathens, we should be honest about what our sources actually say—and what they don’t.<figure id="figure-ck93kgz8iamd4lygkh"><img id="ck93kgz8iamd4lygkh" src="https://media.gettyimages.com/id/2159054272/photo/lgbtqia-philadelphias-pride-transgender-flag-month-event-lgbtq-rights-background-grunge.jpg?b=1&amp;s=2048x2048&amp;w=0&amp;k=20&amp;c=i0PE5iL2uZVSw56n9I-DJS2koLkTY7Cmwwu1i746PcA=" alt="LGBTQIA Philadelphia’s Pride Transgender Flag Month Event LGBTQ Rights Background Grunge Stucco Vitality Colorful Striped Pattern Paper Bleached Texture" title="LGBTQIA Philadelphia’s Pride Transgender Flag Month Event LGBTQ Rights Background Grunge Stucco Vitality Colorful Striped Pattern Paper Bleached Texture" class="object-cover bg-gray-100 " style="aspect-ratio: 16/9; object-position: center center;" data-corners="default" data-aspect="16:9" data-caption="" data-positionx="undefined" data-positiony="undefined" data-fullwidth="false" data-mce-src="https://media.gettyimages.com/id/2159054272/photo/lgbtqia-philadelphias-pride-transgender-flag-month-event-lgbtq-rights-background-grunge.jpg?b=1&amp;s=2048x2048&amp;w=0&amp;k=20&amp;c=i0PE5iL2uZVSw56n9I-DJS2koLkTY7Cmwwu1i746PcA=" data-mce-style="aspect-ratio: 16/9; object-position: center center;"></figure><h3>So, was Bifröst a rainbow?</h3>According to Snorri—yes. But Snorri wasn’t the sole authority on Norse myth. He was a 13th-century man in a Christian world, interpreting Pagan lore through his own lens.The older poems don’t call Bifröst a rainbow. The language of shimmering and burning suggests something more dynamic, more unpredictable—perhaps the aurora borealis. When we strip away the modern projections and dig into the historical record, we find something much more mysterious than a seven-colored arch in the sky.Bifröst is a symbol of cosmic tension—a burning bridge between gods and men, destined to fall. It deserves our respect as something untamed and awe-inspiring, not sanitized and rebranded.As Heathens, let’s reclaim the wild mystery of Bifröst—and leave the rainbow to those whose traditions actually claim it.<figure id="figure-o6l427s2zpmd4m2dy3"><img id="o6l427s2zpmd4m2dy3" src="https://media.gettyimages.com/id/1353122585/photo/pagan-temple-on-akhmavaara-rock-with-wooden-idol-image-of-pagan-god-is-carved-from-trunk-tree.jpg?b=1&amp;s=2048x2048&amp;w=0&amp;k=20&amp;c=o3egARJpVepHmYrge8aZD7-oBjDyS2ZekbT0xvE0KaU=" alt="Pagan temple on Akhmavaara rock with wooden idol. Image of pagan god is carved from trunk tree, Karelia, Russia" title="Pagan temple on Akhmavaara rock with wooden idol. Image of pagan god is carved from trunk tree, Karelia, Russia" class="object-cover bg-gray-100 " style="aspect-ratio: 16/9; object-position: center center;" data-corners="default" data-aspect="16:9" data-caption="" data-positionx="null" data-positiony="null" data-fullwidth="false" data-mce-src="https://media.gettyimages.com/id/1353122585/photo/pagan-temple-on-akhmavaara-rock-with-wooden-idol-image-of-pagan-god-is-carved-from-trunk-tree.jpg?b=1&amp;s=2048x2048&amp;w=0&amp;k=20&amp;c=o3egARJpVepHmYrge8aZD7-oBjDyS2ZekbT0xvE0KaU=" data-mce-style="aspect-ratio: 16/9; object-position: center center;"></figure>Souces Cited:<ul><li>The Prose Edda, Snorri Sturluson (trans. Anthony Faulkes)</li><li>The Poetic Edda (trans. Carolyne Larrington)</li><li>H.R. Ellis Davidson, Gods and Myths of Northern Europe</li><li>John Lindow, Norse Mythology: A Guide to the Gods, Heroes, Rituals, and Beliefs</li><li>Rudolf Simek, Dictionary of Northern Mythology</li><li>Kevin Crossley-Holland, The Norse Myths</li></ul>

Bifröst: Bridge of the Gods or Misunderstood Rainbow?

three sets of fortune telling runes on colorful mystical cloth

Among the many fascinating elements of Germanic Heathenry, runes hold a particularly potent place. While the individual runes of the Elder Futhark and later alphabets like the Younger Futhark have been the subject of much scholarly attention, one of the more enigmatic and visually compelling aspects of the runic tradition is the bindrune—a ligature of two or more runes combined into a single glyph. But how historical are bindrunes? Were they truly used by ancient Germanic peoples, and if so, were they used solely for decoration, writing efficiency, or even magical purposes?This article explores the historical presence of bindrunes in Germanic Heathenry, their appearances in archaeological and written records, and their association—if any—with magical practice. Academic sources, historical texts, and epigraphic evidence are referenced throughout.<figure id="figure-655tnqzv02mc0xfcy4"><img id="655tnqzv02mc0xfcy4" src="https://media.gettyimages.com/id/586347176/photo/r%C3%B6k-runstone.jpg?b=1&amp;s=2048x2048&amp;w=0&amp;k=20&amp;c=uWR_mH50-L0MT6uZ3J50R1rwdDtLaDOe_NtK4IBKzDQ=" alt="" title="" class="object-cover bg-gray-100 " style="aspect-ratio: 16/9; object-position: center center;" data-corners="default" data-aspect="16:9" data-caption="" data-positionx="undefined" data-positiony="undefined" data-fullwidth="false" data-mce-src="https://media.gettyimages.com/id/586347176/photo/r%C3%B6k-runstone.jpg?b=1&amp;s=2048x2048&amp;w=0&amp;k=20&amp;c=uWR_mH50-L0MT6uZ3J50R1rwdDtLaDOe_NtK4IBKzDQ=" data-mce-style="aspect-ratio: 16/9; object-position: center center;"></figure><h3>What Are Bindrunes?</h3>A bindrune is the fusion of two or more runes into a single rune-like symbol. These can be simple combinations—where one rune shares a stave with another—or complex configurations where multiple runes radiate from a central line. They are not part of the standard runic alphabets but rather a creative adaptation of them.Bindrunes are often conflated with runic ligatures, which were sometimes used for space-saving or artistic purposes in inscriptions. However, in modern esoteric contexts (especially post-19th century), bindrunes are often designed for magical intent, making it necessary to distinguish between historical use and modern interpretation.<h3>Historical Attestations of Bindrunes</h3>Epigraphic Evidence The use of bindrunes is attested in several early runic inscriptions across Germanic Europe and Scandinavia. A key source for such study is the Runeninschriften im älteren Futhark, the corpus of inscriptions using the Elder Futhark compiled by scholars like Klaus Düwel and Wolfgang Krause.<ol><li>The Vimose Comb (Denmark, ca. 160 CE) One of the earliest known runic inscriptions, this artifact bears the name Harja written in Elder Futhark. While not a bindrune itself, it sets the precedent for runic inscriptions that would later experiment with ligatures.</li><li>The Ribe Skull Fragment (8th century CE) As described in Düwel's Runenkunde, this object from Denmark bears a bindrune-like inscription involving multiple superimposed runes. Düwel notes that this configuration may have served a magical or symbolic purpose (Düwel, 2008).</li><li>The Södermanland Inscriptions (Sweden, Viking Age) A number of inscriptions on memorial stones use bindrunes, often to merge names or titles (e.g., the runestone Sö 158). These ligatures were mostly artistic but sometimes ambiguous in their purpose.</li></ol>Linguistic and Epigraphic Analysis Scholars such as Ralph Elliott in Runes: An Introduction (1989) and Mindy MacLeod &amp; Bernard Mees in Runes, Magic and Religion (2006) argue that while bindrunes were certainly used, their use was not ubiquitous. MacLeod and Mees note that bindrunes often appear in high-visibility, high-status artifacts, suggesting symbolic—possibly magical—significance.<h3>Bindrunes and Magic: Historical Use or Romantic Invention?</h3><figure id="figure-iilsxeld2pmc0xpmhj"><img id="iilsxeld2pmc0xpmhj" src="https://media.gettyimages.com/id/1365112919/photo/astrology-and-esotericism-the-witch-puts-the-rune-stones-in-his-hand-standing-next-to-the.jpg?b=1&amp;s=2048x2048&amp;w=0&amp;k=20&amp;c=soDxjn3CRiAOnJMDzVq5PuKTLmlgkOGszThwPN_8vsI=" alt="Astrology and esotericism. The witch puts the rune stones in his hand, standing next to the candle. Sparks of fire in the air. Dark background." title="Astrology and esotericism. The witch puts the rune stones in his hand, standing next to the candle. Sparks of fire in the air. Dark background." class="object-cover bg-gray-100 " style="aspect-ratio: 16/9; object-position: center center;" data-corners="default" data-aspect="16:9" data-caption="" data-positionx="undefined" data-positiony="undefined" data-fullwidth="false" data-mce-src="https://media.gettyimages.com/id/1365112919/photo/astrology-and-esotericism-the-witch-puts-the-rune-stones-in-his-hand-standing-next-to-the.jpg?b=1&amp;s=2048x2048&amp;w=0&amp;k=20&amp;c=soDxjn3CRiAOnJMDzVq5PuKTLmlgkOGszThwPN_8vsI=" data-mce-style="aspect-ratio: 16/9; object-position: center center;"></figure>Classical Mentions of Runic Magic Before we discuss bindrunes specifically, it's important to contextualize runic magic in general.<ul><li>Tacitus’ Germania (ca. 98 CE) describes Germanic divination using “lots” (sortes), believed by many scholars (e.g., Simek, 2007) to refer to rune-inscribed sticks.</li><li>Bede and Hrabanus Maurus (9th century) mention runic symbols used in inscriptions, though not specifically bindrunes.</li><li>The Sigrdrífumál, part of the Poetic Edda, speaks of “victory runes” and other magical runes, including runes carved and “scraped off” into mead (Sigrdrífumál, stanza 6–15), suggesting ritual use of runes, possibly including bindrunes.</li></ul>Magical Use of Bindrunes While we have direct mentions of runes in magical contexts, bindrunes themselves are not mentioned in literary sources as magical tools. However, some archaeological and epigraphic examples hint at more than mere aesthetic usage:<ol><li>The Lindholm Amulet (Sweden, 2nd–4th century CE) Features a sequence of runes with ligatured elements that some interpret as a magical formula. Though interpretations vary, MacLeod and Mees suggest these may represent early attempts to use runes symbolically or magically.</li><li>The Gørlev Stone (Denmark, ca. 900 CE) Contains bindrunes that scholars have suggested may carry magical significance due to their placement and context (Düwel, 2008).</li><li>Medieval Magical Manuscripts While post-Christian, medieval grimoires occasionally reference runes, and some include unique bindrune-like sigils. The Icelandic Galdrabók (17th century) is a notable example where bindrune-like constructs are used magically—although this represents a much later evolution and Christian magical context.</li></ol><h3>Interpretation by Modern Scholars</h3>Marcel Mauss’&nbsp; theory in The Gift (1925) helps contextualize the symbolic exchange that magical bindrunes might represent. In Heathen contexts, rune use—especially magical—could be seen as a form of offering, a communication between worlds.Robert Sass (<a data-mce-href="https://www.aldsidu.com/post/runes-in-pre-christian-heathen-times" href="https://www.aldsidu.com/post/runes-in-pre-christian-heathen-times" title="Runes in pre-Christian Heathen Times" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Aldsidu.com</a>) argues that while bindrunes are not thoroughly documented in Heathen-era texts, the use of runes for magic certainly was. His interpretation holds that modern Heathens must reconstruct bindrune magic carefully, grounded in ancient tradition without assuming continuity where none is evidenced. His article <a data-mce-href="https://www.aldsidu.com/post/old-saxon-runes-the-archaeological-literary-evidence" href="https://www.aldsidu.com/post/old-saxon-runes-the-archaeological-literary-evidence" title="Old Saxon Runes - The Archaeological &amp; Literary Evidence" target="_blank" rel="noopener">"Old Saxon Runes - The Archaeological &amp; Literary Evidence"</a> is worth checking out.<h3>Modern Romanticism and Reconstruction</h3>The 19th- and 20th-century Romantic and nationalist movements, including figures like Guido von List, heavily influenced how bindrunes were understood. Von List’s so-called Armanen runes are a modern invention with no historical basis, but they have deeply influenced contemporary esoteric traditions.Today, modern Heathens and rune magicians may use bindrunes as magical tools—but it is crucial to recognize that while rooted in ancient aesthetics, much of the magical function is reconstructed or inspired rather than strictly historical.<figure id="figure-ho3f6cgn6mc0y1gb5"><img id="ho3f6cgn6mc0y1gb5" src="https://media.gettyimages.com/id/1191790236/photo/cult-leader-wearing-a-dark-robe-with-smoky-background.jpg?b=1&amp;s=2048x2048&amp;w=0&amp;k=20&amp;c=KMOxMu9sdABfem3w3IHwBJApo9N3Y8pQ1kU2o7H37EM=" alt="Cult Leader Wearing a Dark Robe with Smoky Background" title="Cult Leader Wearing a Dark Robe with Smoky Background" class="object-cover bg-gray-100 " style="aspect-ratio: 16/9; object-position: center center;" data-corners="default" data-aspect="16:9" data-caption="" data-positionx="undefined" data-positiony="undefined" data-fullwidth="false" data-mce-src="https://media.gettyimages.com/id/1191790236/photo/cult-leader-wearing-a-dark-robe-with-smoky-background.jpg?b=1&amp;s=2048x2048&amp;w=0&amp;k=20&amp;c=KMOxMu9sdABfem3w3IHwBJApo9N3Y8pQ1kU2o7H37EM=" data-mce-style="aspect-ratio: 16/9; object-position: center center;"></figure>Bindrunes are historically attested throughout the Germanic world, primarily from the 2nd to the 12th century CE, with most evidence pointing to decorative or mnemonic use. Some examples, especially in early Scandinavian contexts, may have held symbolic or magical meanings, though direct literary evidence is lacking.Their use in clearly magical contexts appears more frequently in later, Christian-era Icelandic magic texts like the Galdrabók. Thus, while bindrunes are a legitimate part of the ancient Germanic symbolic vocabulary, their magical use—especially as practiced today—is largely the result of modern reconstruction based on fragmentary evidence.For Heathens today, bindrunes remain a meaningful tool, but one that must be wielded with historical honesty and a respectful awareness of both its roots and its modern interpretations. References<ul><li>Düwel, K. (2008). Runenkunde. Stuttgart: Metzler.</li><li>Elliott, R. W. V. (1989). Runes: An Introduction. Manchester University Press.</li><li>MacLeod, M. &amp; Mees, B. (2006). Runes, Magic and Religion: A Sourcebook. Vienna: Fassbaender.</li><li>Tacitus. Germania. ca. 98 CE.</li><li>Sigrdrífumál, in The Poetic Edda. (trans. Carolyne Larrington)</li><li>Simek, R. (2007). Dictionary of Northern Mythology. Trans. Angela Hall. D.S. Brewer.</li><li>Sass, R. (Aldsidu.com). Various writings on Old Ways Saxon Heathenry.</li><li>Mauss, M. (1925). The Gift. Trans. W.D. Halls. London: Routledge.</li></ul>

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