kylec | Slow Havamal: 164

Verse 164:

Now the words of the One-Eyed
are heard in Odin’s hall,
for the benefit of humans,
for the harm of giants;
health to you who speak them,
health to you who know them,
profit to you who learn them,
health to you who hear them.

Last week, I foolishly teased that the nature of the eighteenth spell would be revealed, not realizing that it is apparently too secret even to describe. We will have to count ourselves among the women who don’t know it.

I’ve quoted this week’s verse exactly. Short quotations don’t violate copyright, and if you’re still with me—and still refusing to buy Crawford’s book—you’ve earned it. More than 164 weeks ago, we wandered into Odin’s hall as guests. Havamal can be read in a single sitting, and I’ve done that too, but after more than three years of taking it a verse per week, I can truly say that it feels like I’m still giving it short shrift.

In the final verse, Odin closes by noting that his words are for the benefit of humans and the harm of giants. He speaks in our tongue that we might translate the understanding of a god into daily actions that modestly-wise men and women can perform. Whatever a giant is, living by Odin’s advice runs cross-grained to their nature. I don’t think they are evil. Just at odds.

It’s difficult to sum up what I’ve learned from this experience, but if you ever take a notion to such a slow reading, writing up your reflections, I recommend that you follow through. Odin wishes us health and profit. We might tend to think of these things as coming the way paychecks do: I finished the work, now my health and profit should clear my bank account within two weeks. Rather, in true wanderer fashion, the blessing is the journey itself, and the extent to which we receive it depends on our every thought, every word, every deed along the way. It’s easy to speak words, but do we speak them with a confident will? It’s easy to know something superficially, but have we built the web of wisdom? It’s easy to learn in the sense of remembering, but true learning means a change that cannot be undone. It’s easy to listen, but something quite extraordinary to hear what another tells you in all of its meaning.

I’ve already forgotten many of the lessons in these verses, and probably never grasped others to begin with. This work could unfold for a lifetime without giving up all of its blessings. Imagine that we have been guests. What, now, is our obligation?

The second of our obligations is to honor our host. This begins in his presence with a heartfelt thanks. We take his hospitality and his stories to heart, and we allow ourselves to be transformed by them in subtle ways. When we meet others down the line we speak kindly of him, keeping any secrets he shared in confidence, and turning an eye to the world in the new ways he gave us of looking.

The third of our obligations is to be a host in turn when called upon. It’s a bad idea to teach others too soon, though it satisfies our ego. But to deny others a share of what we’ve gained under the humble guise that we are nowhere near Odin’s wisdom is equally mistaken. No teacher is all-wise when he first speaks, and a host need not be wealthy to offer a refuge. All that’s required is that we have something genuine that another could benefit from, and the heart to share it. Even a meager crust of bread and a little soup can warm a traveler’s spirit.

My dad told me a story that back in the day—the exact day wasn’t specified—people used to have wooden pineapples on the bed posts in their guest bedroom. When guests began to overstay their welcome, they would remove the pineapple carvings, signaling that it was time to leave without having to subject anyone to a rude conversation. So our first obligation is to depart in a timely manner, that others may stay here in our place, and that we may carry this place to others. And perhaps at some point, to visit again.

Slow Havamal: 164 - The End

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