1st Paperback Edition: Words from the Ancestors, Poems for the Modern Viking

Categories: Blog, Books, Fellowship, News, Poetry, Writing
Published on: January 21, 2012
Words From the Ancestors: Poems for the Modern Viking
Order Now

BOOK LAUNCH: Paperback Edition

The Paperback Edition of Words from the Ancestors, Poems for the Modern Viking, more than a simple anthology, is a poetic expression of a world-view, philosophy, way-of-life that all at once honour the past, acknowledge the present and embrace the future.

This book contains, in a highly distilled, poetic form, rich in symbolism and allegory, decades of learning and contemplation of the indigenous cultures of ancient Europe.

Support independent publishing: Buy this book on Lulu.Words from the Ancestors conveys the essential cornerstones of a modern tribalism rooted in the land and within the ancient Nordic or Germanic cultures. Yet, full of insight still every bit as much applicable to life in the modern day; and by which even to inspire future generations.

Dano Hammer, also known as Dan Ralph Miller, expresses an ancient and timeless wisdom alongside a boundless hope for the future.

Engaging and entertaining for all, including a children’s story and other, lighter fare, this collection will also be of interest to students of Medieval European history, Germanic languages, Nordic mythologies, indigenous and tribal folk-cultures and alliterative poetry.

The first edition includes illustrations, commentary, essay, footnotes and a glossary, as well as an explanation of the traditional Nordic poetic forms “Magic Meter” and “Old Lore Meter”.

This 95 page 6×9 trade edition will endure the test of time, a great addition to your library.

Support independent publishing: Buy this book on Lulu.Order now. Fast, print-on-demand and shipping from Lulu:


Words from the Ancestors, Poems for the Modern Viking: 1st Hardcover Edition

Categories: Blog, Books, Fellowship, News, Poetry, Writing
Published on: January 12, 2012
Words From the Ancestors: Poems for the Modern Viking
Order Now

BOOK LAUNCH: Keepsake Hardcover Edition

Words from the Ancestors, Poems for the Modern Viking, more than a simple anthology, is a poetic expression of a world-view, philosophy, way-of-life that all at once honour the past, acknowledge the present and embrace the future.

This book contains, in a highly distilled, poetic form, rich in symbolism and allegory, decades of learning and contemplation of the indigenous cultures of ancient Europe.

Support independent publishing: Buy this book on Lulu.Words from the Ancestors conveys the essential cornerstones of a modern tribalism rooted in the land and within the ancient Nordic or Germanic cultures. Yet, full of insight still every bit as much applicable to life in the modern day; and by which even to inspire future generations.

Dano Hammer, also known as Dan Ralph Miller, expresses an ancient and timeless wisdom alongside a boundless hope for the future.

Engaging and entertaining for all, including a children’s story and other, lighter fare, this collection will also be of interest to students of Medieval European history, Germanic languages, Nordic mythologies, indigenous and tribal folk-cultures and alliterative poetry.

The first edition includes illustrations, commentary, essay, footnotes and a glossary, as well as an explanation of the traditional Nordic poetic forms “Magic Meter” and “Old Lore Meter”.

This 100-page, special hardcover, keepsake edition will endure the test of time, a great addition to your library.

Support independent publishing: Buy this book on Lulu.Order now. Fast, print-on-demand and shipping from Lulu:


Útreiðarsaga in Parallel English & Icelandic

Categories: Blog, Books, Fellowship, Poetry, Writing
Published on: January 5, 2012


I bid heroes, wise ones and light-elves to listen!

Our eager guest will tell of tidings!

From over the briny waves, from the human world!

Sing to us the saga of the riding!

What method to calculate the where of the peace-yard?

Make known the walkway!


Secrets and mysteries, whispered by swart-elves,

runes songs and wand craft and mind-wit.

That slippery ship has bones of oak, and a keel of iron.

Never has it broken on the bottom.

When needful steering to berth.


Seven Hens of Frigga, showed the River of Milk.

By stars I knew the pathway.

With Moon I measured the tides.

The Ox-wagon taught me the method.


My spirit-guide, the Gold Eagle.

Breath filled my sail with victory.

Yourself gave mighty enthusiasm,

and vigourous passion.


You are widely seen, over the nine tree-wheels

the eight halls of the Sun,

by the four faces of the Moon,

and all the star-kingdoms.

Famed by dwarves and the dead.

Even upon the porch of the Aesir.


The crew wishes to ensure,

you keep a brave heart,

and a sharp memory,

A spirit of curiosity that fights bane.

Teach us what you are made of.

Speak the conclusion of the riddles.


How hight the birds famed for constructing,

the wooden house for the spirits?

When giants ruled the realm?


How hight the birds famed for constructing,

the wooden house for the spirits?

When giants ruled the realm?


Rooster, Duck and Sea-eagle,

before daybreak fared to the Axle-Tree,

at the bushing of the heavenly wheel,

riding on the wind to the cove of the strand.


Then the three crafted from sticks and branches,

two human shapes standing in the clay.

An egg nested within each wooden breast,

jewels for eyes, faces to the morning sun.


Preceding day and the Aesir coming,

the birds sung their songs.


When the lightning scratched the glacier,

and the sacred cow shaped my ancestor,

on what meals did she feed?


When the lightning scratched the glacier,

and the sacred cow shaped your ancestor,

on what meals did she feed?


Moss and mushrooms, yeast and salt,

honey fell instead of dew,

on the hillside of shade.

When a giant grew, and found her teet.


Then you know the name the giant of which I speak!

Surely you have riddles I find more challenging!


Such audacity and bravery!

All right, wise kid,

if so clever you are,

answer at the moment to me!

Where in all the realm is the way all alone,

with not a soul except the self of yours?

A man of your reputation should know.


Along the pathway to Hel,

there is a lonely bridge,

where solitude is intolerable.

Neither kin nor friends, nor any living thing

is on that horrible bridge.

Forefathers and mothers still very far forward,

and the living are still far behind.

Only self and oblivion do battle on that bridge.

Men should fare there only once.


Many gifts from the Aesir came,

inherited by the ancient heads,

Which before, which came later,

and to what effect?


Which before, which came later,

and to what effect?


Preceding the senses and knowing,

shape gave melody, music of the heartbeats.

Breathing came after, when the spirit attends.

Then awakening and knowing comes with frenzy.


Yourself gave the breath on the fire of the smithy,

forging the materials of perception.

In the shelter of hollow glows the torch of the mind.

In the eyes see that shine.


I know the guest’s name, and what he is made of.

if unhealthy, would have lost the pathway.

Sometimes challenged he learns.

Working he is a wise student.


Anyone wish to question his wit?

Anyone wish to riddle his smart head?

Anyone wish his challenge? Put him to examination?

Anyone wish to give a problem?


Respect to the High Host,

you with the extraordinary generosity!


I heard foul rumours,

of evil thoughts and deeds.

Word given he is an oath breaker.

Liar and a thief. Being immoral.

He is empty handed of honour.

He a coward.He is disturbed.

I worry it is wrong threads he is made of.


Gladly I will give a specific story.

You have fairy tales and fiction.

You hear the tale from friends of Odhin,

or any crew member under the roof tree?


These embarrassing tales

I learned in the outer reaches.

learned from nobody under the roof tree.

I still deserve an answer.

Is this a lie or the truth?


Lacking in proper details,

it is impossible to tell.

I am not the expert,

but allow me to explain.


Fellowship is my task,

making good, bringing healthiness.

I bring the end of loneliness,

the result is consensus and gladness.


Where I meet with disaster,

failure and bad luck,

I make a fellowship from the slaves of hatred.

Otherwise, they disperse.


Where love fails, hatred of me

is the ending of loneliness.

I suspect these are the source,

of the complicated stories.


It is my work to bring peace.

Would you know much more,

or what?


As Mother in House of Heaven,

I want to understand. Enlighten the fellows.

Speak of all the women,

at your back with hearts broken.


I have offspring.

Any baby with my name,

had me as father,

to my knowledge.


On the subject of broken hearts,

I had innumerable lovers.

She held freedom always.

Her will was unfettered.


As a younger man, lacking in wisdom,

overwhelmed by passion,

but with an innocent mind.

I finally learned self control.


Certainly, we are not here to discuss my sex life.


By this fiery beard,

for Murnamir I have a problem!

And I demand to know!

Why would he sit on the ass

watching television in the middle of catastrophe?

Knowing full well earth was being raped?

Keen for tidings as brother killed brother?

Giving nothing but empty words and wishes?

Your offerings so very boring?


True, we caused earth to suffer.

True, we stole from future generations.

True, ignorance destroyed the peace.

True, cultures ancient lay abandoned


Such a giant challenge!

Such high stakes!

Such a cost of failure!

So many blood lines in danger!


Verily, lost the ancient pathway.


In needing virtue I was careless

I was timid and in a stupor.

Full of apprehension I felt an idiot,

solving the problem of weakness.


The sword cracking upon the powerful worm.

Strategy and understanding failed the people.

Neither trees, nor faith in the nation of thieves.

Everybody angry demanded a portion of the treasure.


When of little skill it is better to pick the battles,

but often big battles do the choosing of brothers.

Generally it is worst to battle illness,

better to make health your friend.


Accordingly, my simple abilities,

I set to establishing health of the people.

singing real faith in ancient ancestors,

and the sagas of my riding and of this appointment.


After all,

I am not a warrior,

but a simple skald.


Swift answer, and eloquent,

but seemingly not enough nourishment.

I will bear it in mind for a round.


I have listened carefully.

You seem well travelled.

More than a half-wit.

A fellow to soberness.


Folks interested in politics and arguments,

rather than high minded ritual and songs.

Busy cutting to pieces their fellowship,

with disturbance and strife. Speak to that!


Why interest in politics and arguments,

rather than high mind ritual and songs?


Because it is thought it more important,

concepts and opinions,

less valuable was kindness and friendship,

kinship and tribal connection.


After the fashion of the Christian faith.

At first I thought them insane,

now understand they were victims,

thinking inside the fence of the culture.


Clearing this mind took me many long years.

I gave life after to teach the pathways ancient.

Though mocked I kept to the plan,

with a few best companions.


I pray the answer was keen and sober.


What is the pathway forward to prosperity?

the mysterious art of holiness?

How to fully complete your powers of mind?

the cause of no one seeming to know?


How to fully complete your powers of mind?

the cause of no one seeming to know?


The first will unlock the remaining gifts.

controlling of the breath, bend it by wishing.


Before driving the breath to awakening,

willpower must be harnessed.

Later coming sacred frenzy,

then darkest houses will be enlightened.


Being the conductor of the air,

calm a mind-storm,

or whip up fierce weather,

put a newborn to sleep,

or evoke the people to riot,

gain a friend, mead and a meal,

inviting a beautiful woman into the pillows,

a great profit at market,

and preserve the wilderness,

teach of the process of awakening,

sing the saga of the memory,

lay down the melody of the peace-yard,

overcome a deceitful giant.


Not to forget, become a friend

to the Vanir and Aesir.


These sacred songs break

the chains of mental slavery.


Why no one seems to know,

the culture of the ancient predecessors?

Know that forty generations have passed,

since died the last teacher of the ancient skill.


Too few kin still bury a hammer,

when the sun begins to bulge.

Or score runes into the loaf at harvest,

bleed a boar at Yule feast,

even drink one to the ancestors,

or send appropriate offerings.


Stemming mostly from ill nations,

drowning in intoxication and wanting,

sex abuse and child violence,

tore the people into madness, lives shattered.


Without law. Outside the waterways.


No hurt is greater than the thousand years passed.

We are a people bloody and broken.

Very slowly in small steps,

coming back to ancient faith.


Much slower than is my wish.


You arrived here ahead of schedule,

there is still so much work to do.

Our resolution is to bring your life back.

What do you need to finish the job?


Was guessing my stay brief.

What do I need to finish the job?


Wealth pays the bills,

but is a source of disputes.

There is a mighty price,

for service of the nations.


I am honoured to receive offerings,

and gold to pay the fees.


But more than a line of credit,

most needed are versatile shipmates,

true to ceremonial oaths,

plenty bold to walk the talk,

of virtue words sung.

Words better than the breath

plus the aroma of breakfast.


We have many warriors,

bane eager and formidable,

pondering only a death glorious.

We have warriors a plenty.


Now the soldiers have cleared the roadway,

Send women and little kids,

old people and relatives,

to fill up the peace-yard.


Hello to mighty wing-Thor!

You ever to me been a friend!

Remember me as Dan Deep-voice!

Still hungry after the answer?

Please pray tell!

the correct answer when meeting me next?


Dan Thunder-voice was the name I heard!

My great stomach is still hungry,

after words well spoken and reasonable.

How my mother is forsaken!


Tell you, Dan Mighty-voice, I will,

my blood is magnificent and boiling!

Upon your return to this shining hall,

Mourner Dan Mighty-voice,

tell that Earth is secure

for future generations!


Steadfast Frigga, enlighten me,

if you would give word,

how males become better brothers,

fosterage of sisters and daughters?


Better brothers listen to the women,

be gentle with babies,

both wise and deliberate,

oaths hold and honour.


Ever faithful and loyal,

ever brave and honest,

ever strong and steady,

have patience and perseverance.


By night or day,

Passionate and reliable.

Loving and with understanding,

being skilful teachers.


Speak of feelings,

Ask opinions.

Communicate and consult.

Gain a consensus.


Generous with friends and family.

Against enemies be awesome.

Industrious be, and tough workers.

If come problems, careful be.


Ever steady and adhering to wisdom,

however the turning of the moon.

That is the method of males with skills,

always a helping hand.


Resolute Tyr, the Hand-Giver,

hitherto listening quietly.

counsel I yearn, preceding the return.

Tell the tribes about suffering!


Pain is a weight on the people!


I speak about pain a strong message,

about depression and suffering,

often victimized by unnecessary fear

anger and confusion, malfunctioning madness,

forming a weight on the nation.


Pain is a communication of the body,

suffering a wound in the soul-shape.

On the differences be mindful.


If organs and limbs are sent asunder,

if spirit is imbalanced and chaotic,

wit and the body diverge the worst,

If mind and memory turn divorced,

If children shun their parents,

If lies and secrets between spouses,

and brothers do battle,

If the nation is alien to the land,

there pain comes into being.


But that is not equivalent to human suffering.

On the differences be mindful.

Pain with error transforms into great suffering,

a confusing mistake to make.


Arising from resistance, from refusal and blame,

regret and denial, doubt and mistrust.


Thus the source of suffering

is disorder and defeat

it dwells in the shadow

crafted with fear and attention.


Pain is often necessary.

Suffering always unnecessary.

On the differences be mindful.


When riding out from the protection of the Aesir,

and the soul flies back at Midgarth,

How do you not miss the way?

What if you meet the abyss?


I drop the main sail,

and pull out the oars,

stop my mind running,

a very deep breath and relaxing,

and listen very well to the waves,

giving attention to the current.


The tide finds me the way,

toward the world of my birth,

as long I still pull breath!


No danger in the worlds nine,

sends this boat to the bottom.

Only drunken fear,

will prevent homecoming.


I have one last question

for Odhin the highest.


Years past, enemies surprised me,

who pretended to be patriotic.

I was the witness to the awakening,

of new heathen nations.


We were eye to eye,

oath-ring in my hand,

they gave commitment with oath,

loyalty to the gods and to the ancient wizardry.


Ever a mystery to me,

when they turned in shame,

unable to meet me with the eyes,

being clad in a coat of deception.


I seek an understanding of the obstacles,

unless they become never-ending.

What is the healthy way?

How can I make a difference?


I see your love. A token on the collar.

Creates enthusiasm. It is pleasing to the people.

Many men will begin the adventure,

but few will finish the job.


Wary be of promises from both gods and men,

fate is written by the ancient Urdhi,

she sings layering down the laws,

oftentimes with her own designs.


To deliver health to nations,

as in ancient times, listen to the words:


Forgive the errors of kinsmen,

with yourself, be ruthless.


At morning awaken twice:

first to stir the body,

next wake up high spirit.


Farewell, bold traveller!


If ever there is a time

when the Aesir or Vanir,

or light-elves, or ancestors,

do not seem helpful,

it is because the answer is near you.


Ég tilboð hetjur, vitur sjálfur og ljós-álfar að hlusta!

fús gestur okkar segja tíðindi!

Frá yfir saltvatn bylgjur, frá mönnum heimi!

Syngið okkur sögu af útreiðar!

Hvað aðferð til að reikna út hvar á friðgarð.

Kunngjöra á göngubrú!


Leyndarmál og leyndardóma, hvíslaði því Svart-álfa,

rúnar lög, vendi iðn, vitsmuni.

Það háll skip hefur bein úr eik, og járn kjölur.

Aldrei hefur það brotið á botn.

Nauðsyn stýra í átt að bryggju.


Sjö Hænur af Frigg, sýndi Ánni af Mjólk.

Af stjörnum ég vissi ferli.

Við Mani ég mældi sjávarföll.

Ur-vagninn kenndi mér aðferð.


Minn anda-fylgja, Gullið Örninn.

Anda fyllt sigla með sigur.

Sjálfur gaf mikinn áhuga

og öflugum ástríðu.


Þú ert víða séð, yfir níu tré-hjól

átta sölum af Sunna,

með fjögur andlit Mani,

og allir reikistjarna.

Frægð af dvergum og dauðum.

Jafnvel á forsal er Æsir.


Áhöfnin vill tryggja,

þér að halda hraustur hjarta,

og mikil minnið,

Anda forvitni sem er að berjast bani.

Kenn oss, hvað þú ert úr.

Tala niðurstöðu gátur.


Hvernig hét fuglar fræg fyrir byggingu,

í timburhús í anda?

Þegar Þurisar réð fyrir ríki?


Hvernig hét fuglar fræg fyrir byggingu,

í timburhús í anda?

Þegar Þurisar réð fyrir ríki?


Hani, Önd og Haförninn,

fyrir dögun fór til ása-Tree,

í gróp himneska hjól,

ríðandi á vindinn til vík strandar.


Þá þriggja iðn frá prik og útibú,

tveir lögunmönnum standaí leir.

Egg hreiður innan hvers tré brjósti,

gimsteinar augu, andlit í morgun sól.


Undan dag og æsir koma,

fuglarnir sungið lög þeirra.


Þegar eldingar klóra jöklinum,

og helga kýr lagaður forfaðir minn,

um hvað máltíðir gerði hún fæða?


Þegar eldingar klóra jöklinum,

og helga kýr lagaður forfaðir þinn,

um hvað máltíðir gerði hún fæða?


Mosa og sveppum, ger og salt,

hunang féll í stað dögg,

á hlíðina í skugga.

Þegar risastór óx, og fann barm hennar.


Síðan sem þú veist nafn risastór sem ég tala!

Víst þú hefur gátur mér finnst meira krefjandi!


Slík dirfska og hugrekki!

Allt í lagi, vitur krakki,

ef svo snjall þú ert,

svarið í augnablikinu við mig!

Hvar í öllum ríki er leiðin aleinn,

með ekki sál nema sjálf ykkar?

Maður á mannorð þitt ætti að vita.


Eftir ferli til Heljar,

það er einmana brú,

þar einveru er óþolandi.

Hvorki ætt né vini, né lifandi hlutur

er á því hræðilega brú.

Forfeður og mæður enn mjög langt áfram,

og í lifandi enn langt að baki.

Aðeins sjálf algleymi bardaga á brú.

Menn fara þarna einu sinni.


Margir gjafir frá er Æsir komu,

erfist til forna höfuð,

Hvaða áður, sem kom síðar,

og hvaða áhrif?


Hvaða áður, sem kom síðar,

og hvaða áhrif?


Undan skynfærin og vita,

lögun gaf lag, tónlist á hjartslátt.

Öndun kom eftir, þegar andinn situr.

Þá kemur vaknar og vita með æði.


Sjálfur gaf anda á eldinn í smiðju,

móta efni skynjunar.

Í skjóli holur glóa kyndill í huga.

Í gegnum augu sjá að skína.


Ég veit nafn gestur, og það sem hann er úr.

ef óheilbrigð, hefði misst ferli.

Stundum áskorun hann lærir.

Vinna hann er vitur nemandi.


Hver vilt spurningu vitsmuni hans?

Hver vilt gáta sviði höfði hans?

Hver vildi áskorun hans? Setti hann í skoðun?

Hver vilja til að gefa vandamál?


Tilliti til Hár Hýsa,

þér ótrúlega örlæti!


Ég heyrði villa sögusagnir,

vondra hugsana og verka.

Orð gefið hann er eið brotsjór.

Lygari og þjófur. Tilvera siðlaust.

Hann er tóm hönd heiður.

Hann hugleysingi. Hann er að trufla.

Ég áhyggjur það er rangt þræði hann er úr.


Gjarna vil ég gefa ákveðna sögu.

Þú hefur ævintýri og skáldskapur.

Þú heyrir sögunni frá vinir Odhin,

eða skipverja undir þaki tré?


Þessar vandræðaleg sögur

Ég lærði í ytri nær.

lært af enginn undir þaki tré.

Ég verðskulda enn svar.

Er þetta lygi eða sannleikur?


Vantar í rétta upplýsingar,

það er ómögulegt að segja.

Ég er ekki sérfræðingur,

en leyfa mér að útskýra.


Félagsskapur er verkefni mitt,

gerð góð, uppeldi hollustu.

Ég koma í lok einmanaleika,

niðurstaðan er samstaða og gleði.


Þar sem ég hitta hörmung,

bilun og óheppni,

Ég gera samfélag frá þrælar hatri.

Annars, dreifa þeir.


Ef ást ekki, hatur af mér

er endir af einmanaleika.

Mig grunar að þetta eru uppspretta,

á flókinn sögur.


Það er hlutverk mitt að koma á friði.

Vilt þú veist miklu meira,

eða hvað?


Eins og Móðir í Húsi Himinsins,

Ég vil skilja. Upplýsa félagar.

Tala af öllum konum,

á bakinu með hjartar brotinn.


Ég búa yfir niðja.

Barn með nafn mitt,

lét mig eins og faðir,

þekkingu mína.


Á efni brotinn hjörtu,

Ég hafði ótal elskhugi.

Hún hélt frelsi alltaf.

Hennar var ókeypis.


Sem yngri mann, vantar í visku,

óvart með ástríðu,

en með saklausan huga.

Ég lærði loksins sjálf stjórna.


Vissulega erum við ekki hér að ræða kynlíf mitt.


Með þessu eldheitur skegg,

því Murnamir ég hafa a vandamál!

Og ég krafa að vita!

Hvers vegna vildi hann sitja á rass

horfa á sjónvarpið í miðri stórslys?

Vitandi fullvel jörð var verið nauðgað?

Boðið til tíðinda eins og bróðir drap bróður?

Að gefa ekkert annað en orðin tóm og óskum?

Gjafir þínar svo ospennandi?


Satt, við valda jörðu að líða.

Satt, stal við frá komandi kynslóðum.

Satt, fáfræði eyddi frið.

Satt, menningu forn lá yfirgefin


Slík risastór áskorun!

Svo miklar húfi!

Slík kostnaður við bilun!

Svo margir blóð línur í hættu!


Sannlega, missti forna ferli.


Í þurfa krafti var ég kærulaus

Ég var huglítill og í hugstol.

Full af kvíða ég fann hálfviti,

leysa vandamál af veikleika.


Sverðið sprungur á öflugur ormur.

Stefna og skilning mistókst mönnum.

Hvorki tré, né trú á þjóð þjófnaður.

Allir reiður krafist hluta af fénu.


Þegar lítið kunnátta það er betra að velja bardaga,

en oft stór bardaga gera velja bræðra.

Almennt er það versta til orustu veikinda,

betra að gera þitt hollustu á vinur.


Samkvæmt því, mína einfalt hæfileika,

Ég setti að koma heilsu manna.

söng alvöru trú á fornu forfeður,

og sögur ríða mínum og þessa skipun.


Eftir allt saman,

Ég er ekki stríðsmaður,

en einföld skáld.


Snögg svar, málsnjall maður,

en virðist ekki nóg næringu.

Ég mun bera það í huga að hringrás.


Ég hef hlustað vandlega.

Þú virðist vel ferðast.

Meira en hálfviti.

Félagi til fullu viti.


Fólkinu áhuga á stjórnmálum og rök,

frekar en hár huga trúarlega og lög.

Upptekin klippa í sundur félagsskap,

með truflun og deilur. Tala við það!


Hvers vegna áhuga á stjórnmálum og rök,

frekar en hár huga trúarlega og lög?


Því það er talið mikilvægt meira,

hugmyndir og skoðanir,

minna virði var góðvild og vináttu,

frændsemi og ættbálka tengingu.


Eftir tíska á Hvítakristrú.

Í fyrstu hugsaði ég þá geðveikur,

Nú skilja þeir voru fórnarlömb,

hugsun innan girðingar á menningu.


Hreinsa þetta huga tók mig mörg löng ár.

Ég gaf ævi eftir að kenna ferli fornu.

Þó spottað ég haldið áætlun,

með nokkrum bestu félögum.


Ég bið svarið var ákafur og edrú.


Hvað er ferli fram að hagsæld?

dularfulla list heilagleika?

Hvernig á að fullu lokið völd í huga?

orsök enginn virðist vita?


Hvernig á að fullu lokið völd í huga?

orsök enginn virðist vita?


Fyrsta mun opna eftir gjafir.

stjórna í anda, beygja það vilja.


Áður en akstur anda að vakna,

viljastyrk verður virkjuð.

Síðar komu helga æði,

þá dimma hús verður upplýsta.


Tilvera leiðara í lofti,

logn huga-stormur,

eða svipa upp brennandi veður,

setja nýfætt að sofa,

eða vekja fólk til uppþot,

öðlast vinur, mjöður og máltíð,

bjóða fallega konu í koddar,

mikill hagnaður á markaði,

og varðveita eyðimörkinni,

kenna á ferli vakning,

syngja sögu minni,

setja lagið í friðgarð,

yfirstíga svikulir risastór.


Ekki gleyma, verða vinur

að Vanir og Æsir.


Þessar helgu lög brjóta

að fjötra andleg þrældóm.


Hvers vegna enginn virðist vita,

menningu fornu forvera?

Vita að fjörutíu kynslóðir eru liðin,

síðan dó síðasta kennari fornu kunnátta.


Of fáir ætt enn jarða hamar,

þegar sólin byrjar að bunga.

Eða skera rúnar af brauði í uppskeru,

blæðir a Gullinbursti í Jólaboð,

jafnvel drekka einn til forfeður,

eða senda viðeigandi gjafir.


Stafar aðallega frá illa þjóðum,

drukkna í ölvun og ófullnægjandi,

kynlíf misnotkun og barn ofbeldi,

reif fólkið í geðveiki, líf mölbrotna.


Án lögum. Utan vatnaleiðum.


Engin meiða er meiri en þúsund ár liðin.

Við erum þjóð blóðugur og brotinn.

Mjög hægt í litlum skrefum

koma aftur til forn trú.


Miklu hægar en ósk mín.


Þú komst hér á undan áætlun,

það er enn svo mikið verk að vinna.

Upplausn okkar er að koma líf aftur.

Hvað þarftu að ljúka verkinu?


Var giska dvöl stutta minn.

Hvað þarf ég að ljúka verkinu?


Auður greiðir reikninga,

en er uppspretta deilumála.

Það er mikill verð,

um þjónustu þjóðanna.


Ég er heiður að fá gjafir,

og gull til að greiða gjöld.


En meira en lína af lánsfé,

mest þörf er fjölhæfur skipverjar,

satt að helgihaldi eiða,

nóg djörf að ganga tala,

af krafti orða sungið.

Orð betri en anda

auk ilm morgunmat.


Við höfum marga kappa,

bani ákafur og ægilegur,

íhuga aðeins dauða glæsilega.

Við höfum stríðsmenn fullt.


Nú hermenn hafa ruddi akbraut,

Senda konur og lítill krakkur,

gamla fólkið og frændur,

að fylla upp friðgarð.


Halló við voldugu væng-Þórr!

Þú alltaf á mig verið vinur!

Mundu mig sem Dan Dýpstarödd!

Enn svöng eftir svarið?

Vinsamlegast biðjið segja!

rétta svarið þegar fundi mér næst?


Dan Þrummrödd hét ég heyrði!

Mikill maga minn er enn hungraður,

eftir orðunum talað vel og sanngjarn.

Hvernig móðir mín er yfirgefið!


Segja þér, Dan Mikillrödd, ég vil,

blóð mitt er stórbrotin og sjóðandi!

Þegar aftur í þennan skínandi sal,

Murnamir Dan Mikillrödd,

segir að Jörðin sé örugg

fyrir komandi kynslóðir!


Staðföst Frigg, uppfræða mig,

ef þú vilt gefa orð

hvernig karlmenn verða betri bræður,

fóstur systur og dætur?


Betri bræður að hlusta á konur,

vera blíður með börnum,

bæði vitur og vísvitandi,

eiða halda og heiður.


Alltaf trúr og tryggur,

alltaf hugrakkur og heiðarlegur,

alltaf sterkur og stöðugur,

hafa þolinmæði og þrautseigju.


Um nótt eða degi,

Ástríðufullur og áreiðanlegri.

Elskandi og skilning,

að kunnátta kennara.


Tala um tilfinningar,

Spurðu skoðanir.

Samskipti og samráð.

Öðlast sátt.


Örlátur við vini og fjölskyldu.

Gegn óvinum vera ógnvekjandi.

Duglegir að vera, og sterkur starfsmenn.

Ef koma vandamál, varkár vera.


Alltaf stöðugur og tolla til visku,

þó að snúa af tunglinu.

Það er ferli karla með kunnáttu

alltaf hjálparhönd.


Öruggt Týr, hönd-gjafara,

áður hlusta hljóðlega.

ráð ég þrái, á undan aftur.

Segðu þjóðanna um þjáningu!


Sársauki er þyngd á þjóð!


Ég tala um sársauka sterk skilaboð,

um þunglyndi og þjáningar,

oft ofbeldi af óþarfa ótta

reiði og rugl, bilun brjálæði,

mynda þyngd á þjóðinni.


Sársauki er samskipti líkamans,

þjáning sár í sálinni-laga.

Á munur að hafa í huga.


Ef líffæri og útlimir eru send í sundur,

Ef andi er ójafnvægi og óskipulegur,

vitsmuni og líkama víki verstu,

Ef hugur og minni snúa skilin,

Ef börnin forðast foreldrum,

Ef lygar og leyndarmál milli mökum,

og bræður gera bardaga,

Ef þjóðin er útlendingur að landið,

það verkur verður.


En það jafngildir ekki að þjáningar.

Á munur að hafa í huga.

Verkur við villa umbreytir í mikla þjást,

ruglingslegt rangt að gera.


Stafa af mótstöðu, frá synjun og sök,

eftirsjá og afneitun, vafi og vantrausti.


Þannig uppspretta þjást,

er ringulreið og ósigur

það dvelur í skugga

iðn með ótta og athygli.


Verkur er oft nauðsynlegum.

Þjáningar alltaf ónauðsynlegum.

Á munur að hafa í huga.


Þegar reið út frá verndun Æsir,

og sál flýgur aftur á Miðgarð,

Hvernig þú missir ekki leið?

Hvað ef þú hittir hyldýpið?


Ég falla helstu sigla,

og rífa út árarnar,

hætta hugur minn í gangi,

mjög djúpt andann og slakandi,

og hlusta mjög vel á bylgjur,

gefa gaum að núverandi.


Í fjöru finnur mig leiðinni

átt heim fæðingu mína,

svo lengi ég rífa enn andann!


Engin hætta á heimum níu,

sendir þetta bátur til botns.

Aðeins ölvaður ótta,

mun koma í veg heimkoma.


Ég hef eitt síðasta spurningu

fyrir Oðin hæsta.


Árum áður, óvinir óvart mig,

hver þykjast vera þjóðrækinn.

Ég var vitni að vakna,

nýrra heiðnir þjóðir.


Við vorum auga til auga,

eið-hringur í hendi mér,

Þeir gáfu skuldbinding við eið,

trúnað við Æsir og til forna seið.


Alltaf ráðgáta til mín,

þegar þeir slökkva í skömm,

gat ekki móti mér með augum,

tilvera klæddir í kápu lyginnar.


Ég leita að skilja hindranir,

þeir verða nema aldrei-endir.

Hvað er heilbrigt hátt?

Hvernig get ég skipt sköpum?


Ég sé kærleika. Tákn á kraga.

Skapar áhuga. Það er þóknast þjóðarinnar.

Margir menn vilja hefja ævintýri,

En fáir vilja ljúka verkinu.


Efins um lofar bæði guði og mönnum,

örlög er skrifuð af fornu Urði,

hún lag um nauðsynleg lög

oftsinnis með eigin hönnun hennar.


Að skila heilsu þjóða,

eins og í fornöld, hlusta á orð:


Fyrirgefið villur á frænda,

með þér, vera grimmustu.


Á morgun vakna tvisvar:

fyrstur til að hreyfa líkamann,

næsta vekja upp hár anda.


Kveðjum, djörf ferðast!


Ef það er tími alltaf

Þegar Æsir eða Vanir,

eða ljósálfar, eða forfeður,

Ekki virst hjálpsamur,

Því það er svarið nálægt þér.

2011 The Year of Freedom: 1 of 3

Categories: Blog, Writing
Published on: January 1, 2012
Dano Hammer, 48th Birthday, 2011
Dano Hammer, 48th Birthday, 2011
Occupy London 2011
Occupy London 2011

This year has been challenging and transformative for the world.

For me as much, although my story seems trivial next to the momentous events sweeping the globe.

2011 Bahraini uprising. Photo: Wikipedia
2011 Bahraini uprising.

My experiences have been as revolutionary for me personally, as any this year have been for the world.

I share my story in the hopes that perhaps it may help you gain some perspective on your own.

I found the outer limit of anger.

I discovered the way to freedom from suffering.

I uncovered absolute solitude on the bridge between life and death, and lived to tell.

I was blessed by three different and very enlightening experiences that will continue to have profound impact for years to come upon the lives of myself and my tribesmen. A rare year indeed!

Pain of the Body, Suffering of the Soul

Chronic fatigue and migraine headaches plagued me in 2011. A few days have been productive, but on most I struggle to work even a few hours. I underwent a regime of medical tests that furnished no clues. The cause of my condition remains mysterious, although investigation continues.

The modern Hammer Rite performed at Pagan Pride Day Nanaimo.
Modern 'Hammer Rite', Pagan Pride Day.

Being able to work only a few hours a day was a huge set-back for me, being workaholic and an overtime volunteer.

I was accustomed to 16 or more hours a day being at my disposal. Month after month of sub-par performance was as depressing as it was frustrating.

Actually, working only a few hours every day sounded idyllic. Most people dream of such a lifestyle. If only I could make those hours work for me.

My convalescence forced me to examine my hyper-productivity. Where was this attachment coming from, that drove me on, at an evidently unsustainable level, juggling my work, home and volunteer obligations until I collapsed? Resting with a migraine, one has plenty enough time to meditate and ponder such questions.

Whilst the physical pain I was experiencing was uncomfortable and inconvenient, weighing more heavily on my soul was emotional and spiritual suffering, experienced not by my body, but by my mind.

Having worked like “a man driven” for many years, and now deprived of that ability, this was my opportunity to discover exactly where that drive came from, and what it was made of.

Relentless Drive: Escape from a Broken Heart

Young Dano Hammer
Young Dano Hammer

When I was an infant, waking up as a self-aware human being, I was curious about the world. What a wonderful and amazing place the universe seemed to me.

I was generally a good natured little kid, as I recall. A kindhearted young fellow who did not like to see people or creatures needlessly suffer. I loved science and outer-space, and was fascinated by all forms of religion.

Lunar mission. NASA.
Lunar mission. NASA.

As I became increasingly aware of the planet I was on, in the 60′s and 70′s at the height of the Cold War, it became woefully obvious that all was not well in the world.

I learned of atrocities, the wars, the genocides, the suffering of the people.

I read a history written in blood, as one madman or the other battles for military superiority, century after century, millennium after millennium.

Dead man and child from the My Lai massacre. Photo: USA Gov.
Dead man and child, My Lai massacre. Photo: USA Gov.

I first learned of religious fanatics declaring holy wars and killing unbelievers in the millions.

I became aware of the profound impact that humans are having on the environment, and so on.

I was brimming with love for the world, but the world seemed brimming with cruelty and hatred, dominated by fear and violence.

Nagasaki, 1945

What a sad story history was, and reading it was a saddened little boy. Sad for the world’s cruelty and a little frightened. Even as a boy I knew my life had been sheltered.

No bombs were falling, there were no secret police rounding up dissidents for execution, at least in our small part of the world at that moment in time, and we had plenty to eat. I was painfully aware that it was our good luck alone that separated us from poverty, disease and war, and just how precarious it was.

As I grew up I turned that sadness and that fear into a righteous anger.

A Young Warrior’s Anger

Young Viking Warrior with sword and shield.
Young Viking Warrior.

The anger of a young warrior is an important tool. It is his shield, protecting him against any amount of bad weather or adversity. It is his blade, cutting clear through to the core of any problem, cleaving through any obstacle.

The anger of a young warrior is one of the things that make it possible for him to change the world, for better or for worse. But if he does not learn how to control it, it can also destroy him.

Storm in Hjørungavåg. Gerhard Munthe,1899
Storm in Hjørungavåg. Gerhard Munthe, 1899

I have never been an angry kind of guy. Anger was not part of my preferred self image, so I sheltered it away and covered it over with the hardness of grim determination.

No matter how bad the world may get and although my chances of making any difference at all were slim, I was still going to attempt to make a positive difference in the world.

As a young man, I knew I could not live with myself if I did not at least try.

Heathen Yule Feast
Heathen Yule Feast

Although the cool shield of determination was the front I presented to myself and to the world, beneath the surface that anger still formed the hot iron core of my motivation.

Deeper still, the anger was a ploy to defend against those childhood fears of so long ago.

Viking ship. Photo: Wolfgang Schmidt
Viking wedding aboard the Munin. 2002.

Young warrior’s anger served me well for many years. I channelled, directed and expressed it, and turned it into something positive by making changes in my communities, and perhaps even our world.

But as I’ve aged, I’ve realized that I am not as patient a man as I would like to imagine.

This was an early clue that anger was at the core of my motivation. I was a patient man up to a far point, but push me over that edge and I might roar with the fury of Thor.

These days, however, the (usually) cool shield of my determination, which had protected me for so many years, helped me overcome many obstacles, and set no small precedents, was no longer a useful tool, but a ball and chain.

Cloak of Responsibility

German armour, 1916. Photo: Wikipedia
German armour, 1916.

Early in 2011, I would awaken and don my heavy armour, every morning, like a cloak of obligation and responsibility.

It weighed heavily upon me, my daily burden. Changing the world had become my job, my grueling, daily task.

I had somehow become unfree, being a slave to my own expectations.

And daily, without even consciously noticing it, I took it upon myself. Suddenly this year, when I assumed the mantle, I could not move. My spirit was paralyzed.

My shield and armour had become my prison, my iron-maiden.

My sense of personal responsibility for the world was dragging me down into a bottomless sea of despair, down to Davey Jones’s Locker, as it were.

My depression, not uncommon in cases of chronic fatigue and chronic pain I understand, took the form of a kind of anguish and despair at having been deprived by my condition of my former productivity.

Watchfulness revealed that the “depression” was rather suppressed anger made harmless by being directed inwards (with safe blame and self pity) and upwards (by decrying my fate or bad luck or both).

First, I had to release myself from this self imposed bondage. In order to do that, I needed to address the core fears against which my anger was a defense. As it turned out, my later near-death experience this year was to do just that.

Atlas. Photo: Luis Miguel Bugallo Sánchez

Flawed Thinking

But just as fundamental, some step in my logic was flawed. It was not my personal, solitary job to save the world or to change it, but was rightly a collective endeavour.

Part of the problem was at worse an over inflated sense of self importance, or at best an overbearing need to micromanage the proceedings according to the old adage “If you want anything done right, do it yourself”. This degree of self-direction I had learned the hard way, at one point realizing that if I was going to wait around for help, nothing would have ever gotten done.

I had somehow assumed responsibility for the world, an impossible task doomed to crush all those who make the attempt.

Progress Impossible

Any further progress had become impossible. The only way ahead was very clear: let go.

Let go of the ideas that firstly the world was flawed, and secondly that I knew the solution. Both assertions are, in reality, logically untenable.

In the first case, the world was proceeding according to “the-way-of-things”, according to wyrd. And in the second, I could not possibly have enough information, being a mere mortal, to judge the procession of the universe as in any way deficient. Who did I think I was? Arbiter of the universe?

Indeed, I would have to let go of the idea that anything I do would make any difference in the world whatsoever. I may as well devote my life to controlling the tide.

I did not automatically assume the “cloak of responsibility” when I first woke up in the morning. It was semi-consciously slipped on within the first half hour of my day. At some point, I would suddenly feel weighted down as if a cloak of lead had been placed on my shoulders.  Then it was dread, as the sheer scale and impossibility of my obligation dawned on me.

At that point, I would visualize letting it go and allowing the heavy cloak to fall to the ground. I was letting go of the need to be a driver of change. It was no longer my job alone (nor had it ever been). I released myself, and the weight of the world lifted off my shoulders.

The visualization became part of my morning meditation, my daily routine of prayers and offerings. Finally, I was able to awaken and not take responsibility for the world, and if it fell upon me, I  was able to let it pass.

To Achieve the Goal, Let Go of It.

All this is not to say that I have stopped caring about the world, nor to suggest that one person cannot make a difference. History proves one person can have an historic impact. I continue to care deeply about the world as I ever did.

My certain sense is that I am to continue in the fulfillment of my vision-quest, and work towards realizing my vision, but that the next step involves becoming free of encumberment, attachment and expectation.

Heathen Parade, Salt Spring Island
Heathen Parade, Salt Spring Island

I recognize that Young Warrior’s Anger did well by me, my community and even my world, for many years. I achieved milestones in the revival of Germanic paganism that had been only dreamed about since paganism was outlawed more than thousand years ago. Accomplishments that likely would not have been possible for me at all, save for my (apparently) interminable drive and overarching sense of mission.

But these were the actions of a young man. As I make the transition into an elder, tools once at my disposal no longer serve. Ways of thinking about and acting in the world which served me in my youth, are no longer appropriate.

Now, to achieve my goal, I had to let go of it. Being free of the need for the power to make change, I could affect much more change than ever before possible, not only within myself but for my world as well.

It was a paradox I am still pondering, but in any event, I really had no choice in the matter. Not only was change possible, but it was necessary.

Otherwise, my anger would become Old Man’s Anger, which is even more dangerous and less useful than the young man’s variety.

Training the Mad Dog

I resolved  - over again – that I would become my own master, or at the very least increase my level of mastery over myself.

Here I was not making a judgement about the world, but about myself. And while philosophers argue whether free-will really exists, I have to at least pretend as if it does, and make some difficult choices.

Judging oneself as somehow flawed or in error is also a potential trap for an undisciplined mind. Such negative self judgements, at the root of many disorders, can be as destructive as an over inflated sense of self importance.

That understood, I nevertheless felt something was wrong with my routine way of relating to the world, that it had to change, and that it was within my power to do so. My body certainly had made the need for change painfully clear, as manifest in my physical symptoms.

Rather than judge myself as deficient compared some angelic or superhuman ideal, and then punish myself for failing to meet up to those lofty standards, I decided to take a different approach.

Continental Bulldog
Bulldog of the Mind

I would take the role of a firm and loving master, and I would train my mind as it were my own pet bull dog.

It was an approach that has reaped great rewards, mentally, emotionally and spiritually.

I imagine that my emotional centre, that part or those parts of myself from which my emotional experience springs, takes the form of a dog.

It is my companion and guard dog. Difficult to train, barks at any noise in the night, but fierce and loyal. “Dano-hound” is constantly on guard to protect me and my family from any threat, real or imagined. My loyal guard dog loves me and only means the best for me and my tribe.

However, he is not too bright. He cannot tell an immediate threat from a distant threat, cannot distinguish between past, present and future threats and responds to them all with equal ferocity. He cannot even distinguish between a real threat and an imagined one, and bursts, running out into the “yard” to confront whatever it is without any forethought whatsoever.

The truth is, providing the forethought and the executive determinations, as to which threat is real and which unreal, which is actionable and which is not, these are my job, as Master.

Dano-hound is an excellent guard-dog, a watchful sentinel, a fierce defender, but a good chief-executive-officer he most definitely is not.

I had set him free from bondage, hidden deep behind my “cool shield of determination”. It was now my responsibility to house-train him.

Now it was time I walked the dog, as opposed to the dog walking me.

Blacksmith at work. Photo: Jeff Kubina
Blacksmith at work. Photo: Jeff Kubina


I had discovered that my relentless drive was really a kind of channelled anger that was covering up and defending against my oldest childhood fears.

I learned that the anger had shielded me from threat and allowed me to make headway even with all odds against me, at least for a few decades running. But now, it was paralyzing me, trapping me, and the only possible way ahead was to let go of it before it dragged me down any further.

Most importantly perhaps, I was able to train areas of my brain responsible for emotional  responses and fight-or-flight reactions by imagining they took the form of a spirit-dog.

Now, I am no longer puppet to my anger, and Dano-hound has once again become my ally.

-Dano Hammer
January 1, 2012


This series is dedicated to my father.

In the next installment, which I will write as time allows, I will explore how I discovered the difference between pain and suffering, and how such an understanding provides freedom.

The installment following that will speak of my journey to the edge of the Land of the Dead.

The year 2011 was quite the year. I suspect 2012 will be even more interesting.


This Coming Day

Categories: Blog, Poetry, Writing
Published on: December 28, 2011
The god Ullr with his skis and bow. 18th century, Iceland.
The god Ullr with his skis and bow. 18th century, Iceland.

My aim, on this coming day,

is to be wise and forbearing,

both patient and persistent,

both generous and prudent,

both calm and energetic.


My aim is to meet the unknown,

with bravery and optimism,

with craft and cunning,

with mindfulness and understanding,

and ingenuity.


Let divine insight guide this bowman’s strong arm,

and a tailwind his arrow,

that he might meet his mark,


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