Alone, I pour the mead,
no circle gathered round,
no answering voices
to catch the prayer I’ve loosed.

The gods are distant fire,
the wights a whispering hush,
and yet my heart still calls
as if the air might listen.

I trace the old paths barefoot,
though none walk at my side,
Nerþum remembers better
as she keeps the tread of all.

Roots beneath me hold the songs
of kin whose tongues are dust,
and when I breathe their names aloud
the wind replies with warmth.

Loneliness is a cold flame,
but it does not consume.
The Silver Well is deep, my threads are strong,
though woven out of sight.

Hope lives in small devotion
the candle’s steady glow,
the raven that lands at dawn,
the breath between each word.

No hall need hold our voices,
no feast our every rite
for wyrd has bound us subtly
across the hidden years.

Stand firm beneath Tīw’s sky,
where Sunne and Mōna still turn.
In silence, you are many
and the unseen hosts are near.

In Weodmonað, the weed-month comes,
When green things surge and choke the fields:
Not all that grows is gift or gold,
Not all abundance leads to yield.

Our ancestors bent with weary hands,
Cutting nettle, dock, and thorn,
Learning that labour never ends,
That summer’s wealth is always worn.

They knew the earth is double-faced:
It offers bread, it harbours bane.
To walk with wisdom is to see
The gift entwined with hidden chain.

From them we learn: not every growth
Deserves the sun, deserves the rain;
Neglect becomes a harvest lost,
And plenty turns to ash again.

So tend your gardens, tend your days,
Pull falsehood’s roots before they spread.
For weeds of thought, like weeds of soil,
Can starve the living, leave us dead.

Weodmonað still whispers clear:
In field and mind, be watchful, true.
The work of care is never done,
But sows the future’s bread for you.

Upon the sable cloak of night he rides,
Mōna, crowned in argent, calm, and still.
His lantern spills across the shadowed sides,
Revealing hearts that harbor secret ill.

No treachery may hide from silver flame,
No whisper clothed in darkness keeps its guise.
His patient gaze unmasks the veiled and shame,
And sharpens truth within the watchful skies.

Yet softer still, his blessing folds the earth,
A quiet hand that soothes the weary breast.
In silver hush he sings of second birth,
Of dreams, of refuge, and of gentle rest.

And in the sea his ancient power sways,
The breathing tides obey his silent call.
The oceans rise and fall in measured ways,
A hymn of balance holding one and all.

Oh Mōna, guardian of the night’s domain,
Whose silver light unmasks the dark untrue.
You comfort hearts and bind the heaving main,
Eternal watchman of both deep and blue.

Hail Ingui,
Lord of peace, giver of frið,
bringer of growth and gentle light,
you who gladden hearts and guides your folk.

I praise you, Ingui,
for the calm fields you bless,
for the joy that springs from your hand,
for the harmony that steadies our souls.

Ingui, kind friend,
I ask your aid in this need.
Bring balance to the mind,
ease my restless thoughts,
clarity where confusion clouds,
and hope where heaviness lingers.

As Sunne warms the frozen earth,
so may your brightness warm the spirit within.
As seeds rise in fertile soil,
so may courage and calm grow in the heart.

Ingui, guardian of peace,
stand near me in dark moments,
shield me against despair,
guide me with your shining presence.

So I give you thanks, Ingui,
with word and with will,
in reverence and in trust.

Hail, Ingui.

In mist-soft dawn by Frome’s slow bend,
Where reeds are thick and waters wend,
She wakes in hush, in silver shroud,
The earth-mother, gentle, rising proud.

Her hair is fern, her eyes are rain,
Her breath the wind on Marshwood Plain,
She walks the ridge where skylarks rise,
And paints with cloud the Purbeck skies.

No sword is raised in Nerþum’s presence,
The forge is still, war-drums stilled silence,
For peace is hers, the ploughshare’s friend,
The green’s beginning, summer’s end.

In wagon veiled, through meadow deep,
Drawn slow by kine, her secrets keep,
The folk bow low in whispered prayer,
And weave her name in Dorset air.

She scatters seeds on Egdon’s moor,
Gives fish to tide and grain to floor,
And when she rests, the land lies blessed,
The heaths lie green, the osprey’s nest.

O Nerþum, mother, soil and stream,
You hold us fast within your dream,
From Yule’s cold heart to harvest’s glow,
Through Dorset’s wheel of months, you go.

Part One: The Body

If anything about growing up in a Christian society taught me, it was that we all have fundamentally two parts: our bodies and our souls. Your body carries your soul around for X number of years, and then it gives up the ghost, quite literally and ejects your soul, either to the Abrahamic God or the Devil. Sometimes, it gets stuck in between if God can’t make his mind up, in a place called Purgatory, or something. Your body then rots or turns to ash and is no longer important. At least, that’s a rudimental memory of it that I recall from all those assemblies where the local Rev X came to speak to us at school and where we had to sit and sing hymns or ‘Lily the Pink’ whilst the headteacher strummed a guitar.

But, rather than question whether they were right or not, this largely lost relevance to me when I stopped coasting my beliefs based on the religion I’d grown up with and started making my own choices and doing my own research.

And then I found Dungeons and Dragons. And nerdery. And fanciful monster beastiaries the like of which most people would never fathom. Or care to. But amongst the nerdery, amongst the adventures, the bucks that were swashed and the monsters that were slain, there came glimmers, shades of a history that I’m only now able to appreciate in my ripe older age, having thought more deeply than where my next XP dump would be coming from. Some of those monsters had roots. Some of those monsters were born of a time largely unrecorded, when nights were dark and filled with danger, where science had yet to explain how things work sufficiently and where fear of the unknown created behaviours that we all feel in our DNA when traversing unfamiliar territory of all kinds.

And that brings me to the liche. Few monsters could inspire such fear in spotty, body-odour-ridden teenagers than an encounter with such a creature. But to the uninitiated, what even are they? In fiction, these were creatures of the undead, beings with magical powers or sorcerers who had chosen undeath to increase their power yet further and enable a neverending existence. Life beyond death, different from the fabled vampire, still yet different from a zombie or ghoul, these creatures had razor acute senses and a mastery of the dark arts.

So, how did this have anything to do with the Anglo-Saxons? Well, because, dear reader, the name “liche” is derived from the Old English word, “līc”, which means “body, corpse.”

Lich is an archaic English word for “body” or “corpse”; the gate at the lowest end of the cemetery where the coffin and funerary procession usually entered was commonly referred to as the lich gate. This gate was quite often covered by a small roof where part of the funerary service could be carried out.

We get the word “corpse” in English from the Normans, as it is a French word. Interestingly, though, the word līc had a dual meaning in relation to “corpse” because it meant both a body that was alive as well as a body that was dead. Consequently, this shows the importance of the body to the Anglo-Saxons as it held equal relevance. This explains the care given to ensuring the dead were cared for, with appropriate funerary rites and burial or cremation. We can see the importance placed on taking good care of the body because we have evidence of burial goods, the importance of the deceased being placed within burial mounds overlooking settlements and places of import.

In conclusion, the body itself has significant importance. It is not merely a flesh and bone sack to be cast off and forgotten about, it was important enough to try and ensure that it is revered, cared for and remained present to the community, even after death. To this day, people will visit the graves of their loved ones and tend to it. It is important to do so, because these are the people who contributed to our own lives in ways we cannot even know. Their bodies, their ashes, must rest well, because the fear of a “bad” burial would lead to unfinished business, unhappiness or a perceived curse. Revenants were a real concern to our ancient ancestors.

We may think we have moved past this “primitive superstition” nowadays, but to think that we could inadvertently cause suffering by not treating the body well during life and also during death is a prime reason why many modern heathens feel so strongly about it. We care. We love. In life, as in death, because love never dies.

These are uncertain times the world over. Every time we switch on the news, we are confronted with the horrors of war, death, disaster, and fear. Much of what we see is perpetrated by humans against other humans. Couple that with the impact of personal adversity and it is clear to see how walking a darker path can happen.

And life can be a grind. When Sunne rises behind deep, dark grey clouds, I cannot feel her warmth. I cannot see her light. Yet I know She is there, regardless. When the rain lashes the ground around me, my eyes are naturally downcast, unable to look up, unable to take in much more than the immediate vicinity around me as I fight an urge to run for cover.

Life is a little like that right now. We are all fighting an urge to run for cover from the chaos that is seemingly enveloping us from all directions. Whether you follow politics or you don’t. Whether you support one political party or another, we are all on this planet together. We are all born of Nerþum, and to her deadly embrace many of us shall return. Between those events, we must do our best to make our time count.

And so we seek to make sense of it. We try to reconcile with it. We look for damage limitation, and we try to look after ourselves and our nearest and dearest. But in the face of so much pain, fear and uncertainty, how do we keep faith? How do we hold on to that flame within?

Whatever your personal religious or spiritual beliefs, now more than ever we need to focus on building sustainable communities where we all contribute in making things better for ourselves and our neighbours. Whether that is volunteering, litter-picking, watch-schemes or almost anything else, now is the time to lead by example.

Faith is a flame fed by action. Thought alone is not enough to keep it burning. In Fyrnsidu, we do this through ritual and we commit ourselves to making meaningful offerings as we contribute to the gifting cycle. Whilst this is often thought of in terms of the gods and the ancestors, this is really also something we can do in our communities in a non-ritualised fashion. The results, however, can be more heartfelt, more obvious, and more immediate. Gratitude to and from your fellow person is just as important as the gratitude you show to the numinous and your ancestors.

So set yourself the task of gathering your thoughts and collecting your components. Every fire starts with a spark but most of us have that fire already burning deep within, we just need to feed it with what really matters to us and to our communities in order to start making a positive difference. I cannot help but feel that some of the chaos and disorder of modern times is potentially linked to the misguided attempts by some to draw the attention of chaotic entities to the actions and machinations of humankind here on Middangeard. Those of us who hold true to our faith in the power of good and stability have a duty to fight for it.

Let us not be found wanting in humankind’s hour of need.

As a solo practitioner, Yule can be as daunting and lonely as it can also be magical and uplifting. Practising a religion alone, even with the support of online communities such as Discord, Facebook and beyond, can be a real challenge. The inner fire of belief can burn low, it can sputter and go out, and it may need to be gently tended to in order to get it burning again.

However alone we can feel at this time of year, however alone we may be in practising our faith, we do so with a line of ancestors behind us with a vested interest in seeing us succeed and grow to the betterment of our families and communities. Whenever you reach those low moments in the dark of our minds or the dark of the world around us, remember they are there in support of you. Remember, you are never truly alone. There are thousands of people like you all over the world, feeling those same feelings and hoping for more, wondering if anyone else is looking up at those beautiful stars at night at the same time as them. Know that there is always someone else doing that, there is hope and the hope that comes to us at Yuletide is the return of blessed Sunne as she begins to come back into our lives for longer, offering us light, warmth and new life. Yule is the pinnacle of the winter period, it is Midwinter, the Solstice, the shortest day, and the day we must seize upon the opportunity to implore Sunne back into our lives and share her blessed gifts with us.

You don’t need to be with anyone else to do this, you just need to feel it in your heart and feel that shiver up your spine as you speak aloud or in your head to her. What follows is a simple Yule ritual for a solo practitioner and one that I intend to follow this year. Use it if you wish, read it if it comforts you. I wish you all a blessed Yule as we witness the re-birth of Sunne into our lives!

***

Having washed and cleansed myself, I will wear warm, simple clothing and my decision this year is to complete the ritual outside in my orchard where a neat raised bank forms a semi-circle in the grounds I have with a beautiful canopy of evergreen trees above me, and bare birch trees rise skywards beyond that. My altar for this consists of a tree stump upon which will be a votive candle within a glass surround (To prevent it being blown out by any breeze!). If it is windy, I will instead bring a battery-powered lantern out to perform the same task. I intend to conduct the ritual at dawn on Yule morning. The candle or lantern will act as a light in the dusk and a focal point for the ritual.

Because the ritual is being conducted outside, I will first address the landwights to appeal to them not to interfere in the ritual and grant me grith (temporary truce) to allow me to proceed.

“Spirits of this land, I come to you in peace, unarmed and of true intent. I wish to petition the Gods and wish no ill upon you or this place. I beseech thee to allow me to continue and offer you this gift in exchange for griþ.”

I will then pour mead outside of the henge-bank area where I am to conduct my ritual, at each compass point. The significance of this is personal, and you may choose to simply pour some out anywhere upon the ground to signify the offering to the landwights.

I will then ward the area to be used for the ritual as a temporary sacred space by hallowing it with the flame of the votive candle or lantern repeating as I walk around the edges of it:

“Þunor-Hālgynghealdend (Hallowing Protector) I call to thee to make this place sacred and protect me and this area from those who would do us harm or have malign intent for the purposes of this ritual. Hail to thee, mighty Gumfrēong (Man-friend) and thank you, please accept this offering of mead in exchange for your blessing.”

I pour some mead into an offering cup for Þunor and place it upon the altar. The votive candle/lantern is also placed upon the altar at this point. I will then petition Nerþum-Þerscoldweard (Threshold Guardian) by taking a pinch of soil from the ground beneath me and holding it in my palm.

“Nerþum, Nerþum, Nerþum
Mother of Earth
Bringer of life
Keeper of the dead
You are both womb and tomb
Guardian of the threshold between life and death
I ask you to open the way between the worlds so that the Gods and the honoured dead may hear my entreaty
You are of me as I am of you
So I began as dust, so too will I end as such
I beseech thee to accept this offering of incense placed upon this altar in gratitude
Hail Nerþum, none may look upon your countenance and live, such is your beauty”

I light some incense upon the altar. I will now call again to the landwights, this time entreating those who wish to join me to do so if their intentions are true.

“Spirits of this land, I call to thee once more. We are at the heart of winter; the shortest day and this land is gripped in a deep slumber. If there are those among you who wish to join me in this petition, please do so if your intentions be true. Come join me in warmth and joy as I beseech fair Sunne to return to us.”

I will pour a second libation outside of the sacred space. Note well, this encourages the landwights to join you in your sacred space, but it is important to ONLY invite those of good intent. You will have hallowed the space, but the strength of landwights cannot be readily known and that may not prove sufficient if you invite ALL to join.

Now I will call to my ancestors.

“I call to the honoured dead. My family, my ancestors and those who have shown me love and care in this life but have passed to the Summerlands or to Hel’s Hall. I speak to you now, humbly, in sincere gratitude for the love and support you have shown to me, my children and my family. This is the shortest day and blessed Sunne is to be petitioned to return. I ask you to join me here, to support me further in that petition and to be joyful that Midwinter has arrived, and fairer days are to come. Accept this gift of mead, that I share with thee and may it provide warmth against the cold of death, some sweetness against the bitterness of the wind and some gold to signify the return of blessed Sunne”

I will then offer up my mead cup to the votive candle and take a sip for myself, sharing that moment with my ancestors.

Next will be my call to Wōden and my petition to Sunne herself.

“Hail Wōden Ādrysendlīc (Unquenchable/Inextinguishable)
I ask that you accept this offering in exchange for helping me to maintain the three fires within me – the fire of belief, the fire of inspiration and the fire of knowledge.
I ask that you continue to help me feed the flames with hope, perseverance and thirst respectively.
It is Yule and I seek to share my mead-cup with thee in gratitude for your presence in my life.
Hail to thee, and thank you.

Sunne-Feorhgiefu (Giver of Life), Sunne-Beorht-Cwēn (Bright Queen)!
Oh blessed lady, I beseech thee to return to us from whence you have gone!
Come back to us and shine down upon the earth again!
Come back to us and let us feel the warmth of your touch on our skin!
Yule is upon us, I make offering to you for your safe return
May your presence breathe life once more into the world around us.

I will then offer mead to both Wōden and Sunne and place the offering cup upon the altar. I will then bring my ritual to a close.

“Hail to the gods and the honoured dead and the land spirits here present. I am grateful for your listening ears and your time this morning.”

I will then pour any remaining mead upon the ground and state:

“From the gods and the honoured dead, to the earth and to me
From me to the earth, to the gods and the honoured dead
Gifts have been given, may they be well received

Hail fair Nerþum, that gives to all men. I call to you finally, Nerþum-Þerscoldweard and ask now that you close the way between the worlds and accept my gratitude for doing so.

May this hallowed site return to the use of all.”

I will extinguish the votive candle/lantern and reflect for a few moments before leaving.

****

May you all have a blessed Yule. I hope anyone out there who has to celebrate Yule alone takes comfort in knowing that none of us are every truly alone, hold tight to those flames within.

Wōden-Pæþwyrhta I feel you still
You passed by here and went where you will
Through the trees and over the hills
By the farms and broken flour mills

Your destination, I know not where
I will choose to follow only if I dare
Treading that path, I must have a care
As I must pass the old wīht’s lair

Wisdom and knowledge I do so crave
From dusty tomes and darkened caves
Following your footsteps upon the paves
Away from the light and into the shade

Inspire me, ruin me, and make me fight on!
I will never give up and never be done!
Incessant, persistent from a walk I will run
By the light of dear Mōna, in the heat of fair Sunne

I feel I am gaining, not falling behind
Learning by deed and trying to be kind
Knowing without knowing just what I will find
Tasting the fruits of my labours and not just the rind

Wōden-Pæþwyrhta I feel you still
Deep in my bones, moving in for the kill
Amongst the trees and beneath the hills
As you pass me by and go where you will

Firstly, it is important to note that no records survive to indicate what rituals or celebrations took place at Winterfylleð. What we have is a recognition of the month itself and how winter was identified via a brief explanation by Bede:

“The old English people split the year into two seasons: summer and winter, placing six months – during which the days are longer than the nights – in summer, and the other six in winter. They called the month when the winter season began “Ƿintirfylliþ, a word composed of “winter” and “full moon”, because winter began on the first full moon of that month.”

Let us not forget that the passing of the seasons during the period in question was extremely important to the functioning of society and the survival of its people. Each month had its own purpose in ensuring that seeds were sown, plants grown, harvested, and then stored to aid with people surviving through the winter until the Summer began anew. We know from Bede that the coming of what we now call Spring would have fallen at the same time of Eostemonað or Easter-month which equates to roughly April in modern terminology with a variation on timings and dates due to the way that months were calculated according to the moon cycles. Consequently, Winterfylleð falls 6 months, or 6 lunar cycles, later and is the founding of Winter and the end of Summer.

This is clearly a significant point in time to recognise and acknowledge and it therefore stands to reason that such acknowledgement would have taken the form of some kind of feasting, celebration and ritual as we mourn the end of Summer and brace ourselves for the coming Winter. I, myself, do not acknowledge Spring and Autumn. The equinoxes were not, to the best of our knowledge, specifically celebrated by the Anglo-Saxons but we have the full moon at Eostre and the full moon at Winterfylleð that indicate the beginnings and endings of Summer and Winter much as other cultures would have celebrated the equinoxes.

The ritual I am to share with you is deeply personal. It is personal because it belongs to me, was written for me and I conduct my rituals alone, therefore you may take from it what you will and use it and adapt it for your own purposes. One of the reasons I love Fyrnsidu so much is that it is a largely blank canvas to work upon and to make your own. There are standard formats we can glean from historical evidence and there are many who draw from those examples to flesh out their own praxis or fulfil the needs of a community ritual, but then there are others who choose their own path with loose or even no historicity to base it upon because it just feels right to do it that way.

And who am I to argue with that? You do you and if it suits you, I’m all for it.

And so below is my ritual for Winterfylleð which I like to refer to as Winterfinding. It will take place this year on Saturday 28th into 29th October which is the first full moon of October following the Equinox in September and the beginning of the month of Winterfylleð which this year begins on 16th October on my calendar.

So now on to the ritual proper and my proposed format this year.

Firstly, my altar has now moved and is in a private cupboard within an outbuilding adjacent to my home. This helps me to separate it from the profane and keep it as a sacred space. Again, you do you. Because of where it is situated, I tend to now kneel with my arms outstretched before me and palms upwards, showing that I come before the Gods unarmed, open to the ritual and vulnerable before them. That vulnerability is important in my hearth praxis as it shows a willingness to engage one’s whole self.

Prior to this, I will have washed and cleansed myself, normally by way of a full shower, but in a pinch this can often be hands and face only. I don’t want to rush this ritual and therefore I would prefer to be fully showered. Water plays a key part in the liminality of the occasion, so whilst it cleanses, it also provides the gateway to the numinous.

I then hallow my altar having lit a votive candle. I move this sunwise around my altar three times and invoke Þunor-Hālgunghealdend (Hallowing Protector) to make this place sacred and protect it from malicious intentions and wights (wīhta).

I will then address the deities I wish to invite to witness the sacrifice. In this case, I intend to petition Nerþum-Þerscoldweard (Threshold Guardian) with a pinch of soil from the grounds of my home and offer incense and repeat the following:

Nerþum, Nerþum, Nerþum
Mother of Earth
Bringer of life
Keeper of the dead
You are both womb and tomb
Guardian of the threshold between life and death
I ask you to open the way between the worlds so that the Gods and the honoured dead may hear my entreaty
You are of us, as we are of you
So we begin as dust, so too do we end as such
I beseech thee to accept this offering of incense and fruits grown from this land, placed upon this altar in gratitude
Hail Nerþum, none look upon your countenance and live, such is your divine beauty

I call now to Frīg-Heorþmodor (Hearth-mother), Frīg-Heorþweard (Hearth Guardian)
She who protects my children and my family
Weaver of the web of Wyrd
I call to thee and ask you to convey these offerings from my hearth to their intended recipients
I pray you will accept this offering of an apple from my orchard and water that has fallen upon our property by way of thanks
Hail Frīg, mother of my hearth

I call now to Ēostre-Efnīwung (Renewal)
Oh she of the divine light of dawn, bringer of Summer!
You bring with thee the hope of new life and the warmth of love
But now you must sleep within the embrace of blessed Nerþum
You rest so that the cycle of life will continue and winter will return
I ask thee to accept this offering of honey to sweeten your journey towards thy earthy bedchamber
Hail Ēostre, may you bring the death of winter again on your anticipated return

Hail Sunne-Feorhgiefu (Giver of Life)
She who brings light, life and warmth to all our lives
Now you will go in search of blessed Ēostre as she disappears from the land
You will seek her further and further afield and the cold will return to these grounds
I beseech you to not forget us, to not leave us and to allow your light to guide us through the winter
I ask thee to accept this offering of mead such that it may warm your heart as you journey from us

Hail Mōna Nīht-hopa (Night-hope)
He who shines radiance upon us in the darkest of times
The darkness begins now to encroach on our days, keeping us to our homes and hearths
I ask that you help us to see that light when our hearts feel numb from the cold or indifferent to our environment
May you expose those who move in the night to act against us, protect us from their intentions
As the dark hours threaten to overwhelm us, I ask you to be that beacon of hope we need
I ask thee to accept this offering of camomile tea to help maintain calm and peace through the long nights

I give thanks this night also to fair Ingui-Æhteman (Husbandman), Ingui-Eowend (Virility) and I bid you hail
Hail to he who gives life to the land and brings virility to men
During these long winter nights, I ask for you to inspire me to be a better husband and father
Help me to draw close those I care about most and protect them from the harshness of winter
May new life abound once more at Wintersdeað
Please accept this offering of acorns that will impregnate the ground with new life as you do with fair Nerþum

I call finally to the honoured dead – to my ancestors and those who have shown me love and care throughout my life and without whom my life and those of my children would not have been possible. I welcome that love, that care and that positivity into my life and I know that you continue to surround me and my family with it. I speak to you now, humbly, in sincere gratitude and unending love for everything you ever did that had led us to this point. The web of wyrd is tangled, sometimes it is frustrating, worrying or even frightening, so to have your support behind us every step of the way means more to us than you can ever know. As we head now into the winter months, the temperature will drop, the days will become shorter and we will need each other that much more to support and provide warmth and hope for the future. I ask you to continue to show us your love and care throughout these long months and beseech you to accept this gift of mead in return. May it provide you with some warmth against the cold, some sweetness against the sour, and some gold to radiate the hope we all have for the future.

Hail to all the gods and the honoured dead here mentioned. I am grateful for your listening ears and your time this night.

From the gods and the honoured dead, to the earth, to us
From us, to the earth, to the gods and the honoured dead
Gifts have been given, may they be well received.

Hail fair Nerþum, that gives to all men. I call to you finally, Nerþum-Þerscoldweard (Threshold Guardian) and ask that you now close the way between the worlds and accept my gratitude for doing so.

And with that, I extinguish the votive candle and sit in peace for a few moments.

****

As with all rituals, these are deeply personal things that may resonate with some, and not with others. Please do take from this what you will, I sincerely hope you find some of it useful and are able to hold your own ritual, or blōt, this coming Winterfylleð.