Who is Holda?

Of course she is nothing less than the Grandmother of all Germans! The most tender of lovers and the harshest of teachers. Caring not what you want to hear, she will only tell you what you NEED to hear, as a GRAND Mother should.

She who guided us in the wild mountain forests from shaggy haired wildmen to our prim and proper selves, wild mane contained into buns and oversized mustaches. It is Frau Holda who presides over marriages as well as love affairs. It is she who brings pancakes to the famished, telling young women to stop moping and crippled boys to stand up, poking them in the back with her cane prodding them to realize their true potential.

Sometimes she is a wild woman; a forest crone with long untamed hair full of brambles and branches, mice and birds, knowing eyes, bulbous nose and crooked teeth. Other times she is a most beautiful maiden with golden curls of sunlight sitting on moss blankets atop ancient stones spinning and singing all the while.

Most often Dear Holda is the Grandmother we need. Our greatest of allies and our harshest of judges, just as quick to praise as she is to punish. The impudent, the disloyal and dishonest, the lazy and the foolish will find nothing but her disdain. HOW DARE THEY! Don't they know her blood IS her blood! How dare they mar their family so! She brings castles down upon their heads and boiling tar upon their skin.

Yet she is also the tenderest of lovers, she finds the men that need her healing warm touch as the Golden Haired Maiden loving them dearly in her Venusberg. Other times from her meadows and mills, her ponds and streams, her mountains and hills she dotes on her beloved children. She pairs them when they ask, she brings them joy when they are full of sorrow, she encourages them in their strengths and when a true loving match is made... It is she who sends them the greatest gift of all... Children.

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New Broadcast! - Indigenous
At what point is something Indigenous?

This topic was suggested by a Member of our Community, Roxanne.
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For those who know "The old ways are the only ways, all else is pageantry", there's Hyperborean Radio with Jeff and Ike in the Morning; speaking the truths we all know but others fear to whisper.
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The Yearling
by N.C. Wyeth

Allfather Dagda

Warriors! Smiths! Champions! Sailors! Adventurers! Many a God is known for these roles armed with great and terrible powers. But what of the most important role? The one that begins from inception as we lay swaddled in cloth in the arms of the most important man in our lives, our fathers.
The nurturing male, the defender, the one who stands between us and the terror of the unknown, who dabs the tears of the crying babe, who teaches us to dance on his feet, who accidentally drowns the cake or burns the tea. Who leads the men in song and the children in their adventures. The man who stays at home building cottages and tending horses. For this there is that most beloved of Gods, The Dagda. He is for whom we fight.

Our fathers who taught us to fish, to cook, to hunt, to run, to woo, to stand for ourselves and our family. He teaches boys to be men and women to recognize men when they see them. This is The Dagda. The Father we all wish to have and wish to become. The goofy dad jokes, the silly pranks played when our backs are turned, the first beer and the final farewell when we marry.

The Dagda is not a warrior, a wizard or a sailor. He is more than that. Like our fathers he is always the biggest man in the room so that he may stand between those in his care and anything that may deign to threaten them. He cares for the most dangerous of beasts that others would find unwieldy or deadly he knits sleeping caps and tea cozies for. More giving than could be seen as reasonable he'll give you the shirt off his back, the grain from his stores, you'll never leave his hall without a full belly and a pocket full of beer. The Man of the village that all look to for wisdom, for kindness, for compassion, for hope and a helping hand.

No matter the danger, no matter the distractions, The Dagda is always there. A loving father figure to all his people. Even the most frightened and lost of mankind might find warmth and comfort in his jolly embrace.
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Skadi, Mistress of Scandinavia

God of All Scandinavia, Wise God-Bride, The Huntress, The Shadowy One, Lady of the Mountains!

The North is a harsh mistress, but through these trials, this peril, she makes you strong! Few deities make this as clear as Skadi, of who Scandinavia is lovingly named. She dwells in the Rocks and the Mountains, the Ice and the Snow. Embodying all the beauty and fury of the Scandinavian Wilderness and its' people.

At a glance Skadi might escape notice, like figures in a blizzard or eyes from mountain tops but she is one of the most ferocious, dangerous and beautiful of all Northern Gods.

Among the gods of Scandinavia she is most favored. Skadi sits in a seat of prominence, lover of the Seafaring God, Queen of the Mountains! The very soul of Scandinavia and her people. In Eddic Myth she was married to Njord taking him as her husband not her him when after the death of her Father it is said:

"Now Skadi, the daughter of the giant Thjazi, took helm and birnie and all weapons of war and proceeded to Ásgard, to avenge her father. The Æsir, however, offered her reconciliation and atonement."

For Skadi is not simply a huntress or ski god, an archer or mountain dweller... no she is all of these things and more for she is the goddess who bestows and caretaker of all the wonders of Scandinavia, from the Mountain Forests to the Fierce Spirit of War. She embodies all that is noble and incredible of her people and her land. Fore she is their Mother, their Mentor and their War Leader.

She is the keeper of all these talents and treasures of the Northern Lands, she married Njord so her people may conquer the sea. She married Odin as his cult rose to prominence but in Lore further south she finds perhaps her greatest match, Ullr the Winter King. While she gave birth to Kings via Odin, with Ullr she begot the god of Steam and by extension our modern wonders.

Truly she is the Shining Bride of the Gods.
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Here in the Netherlands, Vrouw Holle is still well known, even amongst non-pagans and christians, as a fairy tale figure. The amusement park De Efteling has her immortalised in their fairy tale forest as the old crone who makes it snow when she fluffes up her pillow.

What is lesser known is the story tradition that places her in charge of spring. As a golden haired maiden, she takes the position of Eostre in Anglican lands and starts of the season at the equinox. By my knowledge, the last person to write about her in this capacity in earnest, was children's author Hermien IJzerman in the 1950's.

Hermien wrote original fairy tales for little children, that she illustrated herself. She uses the old narrative structure of an old woman telling tales to little children by the fire. Hers is called Mother Urdhula - which sounds in and of itself as oer Hulle, ancient Holle. But this Mother Goose tradition is, entirely, a referrence to goosefooted Holle herself.

~Schreeuwekster

Although Ijzerman wrote her fairytales as a christian, and the christian god is present in the tales, they treat Holle as a figure with real power. The opening rhyme especially, where mother Urdhula is told the stories by the Wind. I read it to my own daughter frequently, who is shieldnamed for the Goddess, and who loves it so much she tries to eat the book entirely.

Moedertje Urdhula spint en spint
de draden tot ragfijne wol.
't Wieletje draait gezwind en wind
het spoeltje al voller en vol

Hoor, door de schoorsteen blaast vrolijk de wind.
Hij kwam over bergen en dalen.
Moedertje Urdhula luistert, mijn kind. Wat brengt de wind voor verhalen?

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Mother Urdhula spins and spins
the threads to spiderfine wool.
The little wheel spins fast and winds
the bobbin fuller and full.

Hear, through the chimney blows cheerful the wind.
He came over mountains and valleys.
Mother Urdhula listens, my child.
What kind of stories does the wind bring her?

Always good to see some Frau Holle posting. -Ike