There is another side to Týr, apart from thestaunch, justice-driven, action-oriented side. He is a god of war and battle, of course, and that can mean many things.
I’ve mentioned before how I found it difficult to connect to the warlike side of Týr. Since then, I’ve actually had a little breakthrough where War and Battle are concerned.
I’ve recognised my own righteous anger. My positive fury, my determination, my stubbornness.
I’m not a soldier. But I do have my own battles. I have to remain true to my better judgment and avoid the temptation of slipping into depressive habits. And, a battle that has become more visible and constant as of late, standing up and speaking my mind when I see wrong. Fighting bigotry and fighting fear. Týr is that urge, that near-thoughtless instinct to protect, to FIGHT.
Týr is ordered force, yes. He is concerned with justice and order and making things Right. But he is also the rage and fury that gives rise to justice in the first place.
An interesting piece of UPG: the movie Mad Max: Fury Road gives me Týr vibes. The blue and orange colour palette, of calm justice and unbridled fury. The wildness of the desert cultures. The tension in the soundtrack. It’s all so intense, immediate, and Týr.
I am trying to build a relationship with Tyr. Since I’ve never been the first one to try and start a relationship where gods are concerned, this is new to me. But I think I’m on the right track.
I’ve been aware of Tyr for a while. I remember the first time I felt Him. I was meditating on the sky, for Heimdall, as I often do, but instead of Heimdall I felt Someone Else. Very distinctly not my fulltrúi. Somehow, I knew it was Tyr. Stern. Focused. Not quite as diffuse as The Ram.
After that, nothing for a few years. I’d always associated Tyr with the bright blue sky, similar to how I associate Heimdall with a cloudy blue sky. So when I decided to forge a connection with Tyr, the sky was where I started. It was hard to sort the feelings I had for Tyr from the feelings I have for Heimdall. I’m so used to tuning myself to Heimdall’s frequency that I had a hard time finding Tyr in the one place I knew I could find him – like having two friends who live in the same apartment building, but only knowing the apartment number of one of them, and ringing the same buzzer every time.
So I’ve branched out. I know Tyr is a god of justice, honour, right action. These things have always been foremost to me. Big surprise, Heimdall is all those things to me, too, especially honour. They resonate, a lot. Tyr seems to be more about direct action, whereas Heimdall has a focus on thought and being. Attention. Perception.
Tyr is also obviously a god of war, battle, and victory. These resonate with me much less, but I’ll talk more about these aspects of Tyr in another post.
Now, the other similarities:
They are both liminal gods. Heimdall, who is descended from giants, became an Ás. His job is to guard the border between worlds. His home is on a cliff, between the land and the sky (and the sea, in my UPG). Tyr is also descended from giants, and is one of the oldest gods (that we know of), and he also became an Ás. He is part of two cultures. It could be said that he witnessed the ‘changing of the guard’ when Odin became chief god, and Tyr took a back seat.
They are both sky deities. Apart from being associated with the literal daytime sky, they might be associated with space and the cosmos, as well. (Heimdall certainly is, but more of that in another post, perhaps.)
They both have to do with honour and duty. It is Heimdall’s duty to stand watch, no matter how cold and bitter it gets. It was Tyr’s duty to give up his hand so that Fenrisúlfr could be contained. They do their duties silently and resignedly, and the gravity of their actions speaks for itself.
They both have very strong links with the World Tree. Heimdall, who sees high and low across the universe, who has nine mothers, has been compared and even equated with the World Tree. As god of perception and awareness, his consciousness is all-encompassing, as is Yggdrasil, and his nine mothers echo the nine worlds. Tyr’s symbol, the Irminsul, is a symbol of the World Tree also, the axis of the universe. Granted, worship of the Irminsul is a more Germanic occurrence than Scandinavian, and that makes it less valid to link the two, but Tyr-as-Irminsul is a very strong link to Tyr as the World Tree.
The thought I had while researching Tyr was this: given these similarities, is it plausible that Heimdall and Tyr were once one deity, or that Heimdall developed out of an offshoot from an earlier Tyr?
Honestly: there’s not tons of evidence, but since the historical record is spotty, we have no idea. It could be true.
It’s obvious to me now why I’m drawn to Tyr, even though I have a hard time with his warlike aspects. If Heimdall and Tyr are descended from the same god, or if Heimdall is an offshoot of Tyr, that would certainly explain my attraction. I’m a sucker for liminal figures and figures of honour and duty.
I personally think they are distinct deities – they certainly were in the Viking Age and later. They have distinct presences to me, even considering the similarities. But Heimdall is not about war, and they have distinct roles within the pantheon that tells me they have long been separate beings, if they were ever once the same.
This was not what I wanted my first post about Tyr to be, but it was the thought that occurred to me while doing research. More on Tyr soon.
I haven’t posted anything here yet about the latest AFA snafu, mostly because I’ve been caught up on other social networks about it. So let me repeat the statement I made on my tumblr:
Most of you have probably seen by now the AFA’s post about gender. I saw it on Facebook this morning and was flabbergasted. They’ve tiptoed around being racist and bigoted for such a long time that I honestly never thought they’d outright say such things. Now we have it. “Beautiful white children” and nonsense about gender being a gods-given gift.
Needless to say, I disagree. I distance myself from this bullshit. These opinions are not accepted on my blog or in my hearth. Rest assured I am a safe space from the racism, sexism, transphobia, and general hatred.
Don’t let these guys and people like them put you off Heathenry.
Let it be known that I have signed Declaration 127 in solidarity with a large chunk of the Heathen world.
Recently, I saw a post by answersfromvanaheim.tumblr about the differences between reconstructionism and revivalism, and I’ve realised I’ve gone from one end of the spectrum to the other in the time I’ve been Heathen. I started out quite reconstructionist, and I’ve become more revivalist – and I think there’s a very good reason for it.
Coming into a new religion, you want lots of information, lots of context, lots of references for how you should do things and what to believe and what’s okay or not. Unfortunately, Heathenry does not have a lot of that. As someone just learning the cardinal directions, spiritually, who had never been in a religion before, I clung to all the references and context that I could – namely, the historical sources. But since then, my focus has changed, and I’ve become more comfortable with my religion and with my practice.
I now know my goals within Heathenism: namely, to practice in a way that develops me. I cater the religion to my own spiritual needs.
That’s pretty vague, but rest assured, my Heathenry is still markedly Heathenry. I wouldn’t be in this religion if it didn’t ring true down to my core. But maybe there are things that I don’t do much of (blóts, sumbel, rituals) and things that I do a lot of (meditation, introspection, offerings, rune magic). I gravitate towards the gods that resonate with me, either in general or in specific circumstances (I am a life-long friend to Heimdall, but my time with Baldr and Hödr was temporary, and my time with Tyr will be, too. Probably). I suppose my version of Heathenry is more “touchy-feely”, in that I am less focused on going out and doing things and more focused on getting my inner self straightened out. To put this into revivalist/recon-derived terms, my gods come from the historical record, but my way of dealing with them is very personal, and not necessarily historically attested.
This is not to say that reconstructionism is bad, or somehow less developed – just that there’s a different focus. I’m very much solitary. I’d probably be a hermit way back when.
We recon-derived (or post-recon, or revivalist) practitioners have a reputation for being fluffy, or not very serious. I don’t know why. But I am very, very serious about my religion. That’s precisely why my style has changed and developed the way it has. My religion changes and lives with me, because it’s a part of my life. It’s not separate to me. It’s a part of me. I wouldn’t have it any other way.
I’m not sure I will ever find the object of my life’s direction. This terrifies me. The only word I have ever found that describes my life’s goal is Sehnsucht. A German word for that intense longing for something perfect and whole, something nurturing and essential, that lies elsewhere, somewhere, beyond us, unobtainable.
I’ve written about it before, and how it is the single main force driving my religious life and my life in general. I cannot rest until I’ve found what I’m looking for. What am I looking for? I’m not even sure. But I know I have to find it, and I know that Sehnsucht is the compass. At least I hope it is, because otherwise I have no hope of finding it.
But it’s dawned on me, well and truly, that I may never find it. And that is terrifying and soul-crushing.
Assuming the source of my Sehnsucht is tied to some geography, some place in my ancestral memory or spiritual homeland (wherever in Thor’s name that is), I have to go abroad to find it. I have to travel. I have to figure out how to find it, and I have to take time to go out and do it.
But what if I never have time? What if I never have the money? What if I don’t know how to find it?
Worse, what if there’s nothing to find? What if this intense, torturous, painful longing is just an artifact of being human?
If that’s the case, I will never be at peace. I will always be looking over the next hill. I will always be searching. What’s the point in living if life will be that way?
“Just be content with what you have.” I cannot be. Not when there is something so profound that is calling to me.
The other possibility, I suppose, is that the peace to be found is not in any place or memory, but simply within myself. Finding that, of course, is an impossible task. I may make progress. I may even no longer tear my hair out in desperation. But reaching the Source is probably like reaching Nirvana. And I can’t think how to do it apart from meditation and introspection. To be at peace.
I haven’t been writing here nearly as often, and this is indicative of wider trends. Sometimes I wonder if a thriving religious life is compatible with a thriving personal and secular life. And I’m really not sure nowadays.
I’ve been living out of a backpack for the past year, always on the train between my place and my partner’s place, which means never getting into a routine and having less time to myself than I’ve been used to. When I did have a kind of routine, I would take time fairly regularly to sit at my shrine and do offerings and just talk to my gods. Nowadays…I haven’t sat at the shrine for months. I haven’t had a real connection for months. I’ve felt disconnected and far away from my gods. And this is my fault.
I’ve been spending most of my energy on the things that are going on in my life at the moment: finding a place to live with my partner, finding a job, working out what I’m going to study next year. And I’ve been spending most of my affection on my partner.
When I was single, I would spend that sort of love-energy on my gods. Now, I have a person that I love. Do I love my Gods any less? No. They’re just claiming less of my time. And I miss them. I do. I haven’t meditated recently. I haven’t discussed my concerns in front of them. I haven’t truly faced my fears and anxieties, which I have to do (I can just feel it – sometimes you gotta break down into tears in front of your gods and let them be the only complete thing in your mind).
I haven’t been religious.
I really miss it. I miss that connection, that profundity, that feeling of growth. I’ve noticed myself becoming less conscientious and aware of the things around me, which I know is a result of not meditating and contemplating the world around me.
How do I regain this balance between the religious and the mundane? Carve out time for my gods, first of all. Set aside a time to meditate and reflect and connect with them. And I need to create my own space. This will happen soon – I’m moving in with my partner and I’m planning on setting up an altar in our new home. I don’t know where. Hopefully somewhere I can fall into pieces on the floor and just lose my shit.
My religion is, strangely enough, one of my passions. I need to start nourishing it again.