Slow Havamal: 80

[kylec]

In the 80th verse, we’re told what whatever the runes say will end up being true, because they come from the divine, made by the gods, and painted by Odin. Then we’re advised that it’s best to learn with your mouth shut.

I know next to nothing about the runes, except that they’re an alphabet given by Odin to mankind. As such, they can be used to write things, but unlike our alphabet, they have other purposes. I’m not sure what the old Norse used them for compared to their modern uses, but they were certainly employed in magical inscriptions, and probably divination—the most popular use today.

We might think of them as a code between gods and man. They stand for parts of our speech, and make possible a magical act of no small importance: the fixing of words. What before were sounds, gone as soon as uttered, can now be recorded to some extent, as if they were frozen in the act, or repeating themselves with intent for the life of the inscription. Beyond the phonetic value, they likely had other qualitative meanings, which would make certain letters correspond well to things or concepts. For example, fehu of the elder futhark can mean cattle or wealth, and prosperity in general (according to the internet—I have no idea).

Think of runes as the final material basis of a power after a long descent from the divine. It traveled through unfathomable forms from its conception by the gods, finally passing through the conceptual realm, our understanding of the sound, our speech and hearing, and at last arrived in a carving. To some, all things follow this path into manifestation, along varying trajectories. This writing system is more directly descended from the gods than a random assortment of symbols. It’s this divine quality that gives them their depth and their usefulness.

Ask a question to a complete set of runes, and Odin or some other god will see to it that the ones you draw in answer accurately reflect the situation. This is always true, though individuals may fail to read them correctly. What the runes say comes to pass, but what’s implied is that it takes a certain skill to understand what they’re actually saying, as opposed to projecting our own desires onto them.

The crux of the verse is that we need to shut up to learn. The less we speak to the runes, or through the runes, the more we leave them open for arrangement by the gods. If I drew fehu as the answer to a question, I could probably trust that it meant something along the lines of cattle or wealth, in whatever context that might fit, since it’s a meaning agreed upon by many practitioners. But I should not be so quick to assume. Better to compare the rune to what actually happens. That allows for a subtle understanding to emerge. I would miss a great many nuances if I forced it into my own Procrustean bed.

By paying attention to meanings as they emerge from the world, I can only grow wiser. In fact, in this series I’ve often defined wisdom as something like a system of emergent experiences and their relationships. That holds true for the speech and writing of men as well as the gods. When we speak, we inject our habits and desires. When we open our ears, we run the risk of encountering something closer to the authentic source, and transforming accordingly.