Extract from: http://www.elhazablaze.

com

Thor Says: Invoke With Laughter

Donovan and I celebrated a truly marvellous Thorrablot yesterday. One of the most
brilliant ritual experiences Ive ever had were on such a strong shared wavelength
and what an honour it is to know him.
I arose early. I packed a delicious organic lunch of red beans in pasta/tomato sauce,
chopped carrot, almonds, and sauerkraut. We ended up mixing these together with
surprisingly delicious results when lunch time arrived.
I drove out to Donovans place. That morning, suddenly inspired, he had made a
beautifully carved Mjolnir from wood, a hefty hammer, an offering for us to give.
Armed with mead and drinking horn, we drove to a National Park by the sea.
We spent the drive talking about our hopes, desires, lives, people we know; about our
creative, health, spiritual, hobby, and financial goals.
We walked for an hour or more through exquisite forest, over dizzying ocean cliffs, the
sea vast and majestic, the trees all wise and all wit.
We came to our secret location, a gigantic flat rock which perches, secluded and stolidly
precarious, on the cliff face, overlooking vast ocean vistas. How to find this rock? The
almost-hidden trail is marked from the main path by two trees which, if seen from the
correct angle, one behind the other, form an Elhaz stave shape. Elhaz: perhaps it
invokes the sacred space which is open and closed all at once.
We meditated, bare feet; let the distant, epic sea song wash away our petty conscious
thoughts. We knew what we wanted this ritual to be from our conversations in car and
forest. To invite Thor to help us renew the momentum of spirit in our lives, to drive out
the frosty barbs of negativity and boredom and renew the membrane of magic. We let
this hope flow through our beings, through the rocks, the trees, the clouds, the sea.
When it felt right the ritual began, in such a way that we scarcely even noticed that we
were in it. We joked and played, laughing (with compassion) about the stiffness and
artificiality that some folk fall into on ceremonial occasions so anxious to get it
right that they cramp up and lose the spirit of the thing. Not us; we called and
hollered, half serious, half in parody, but we could feel that our deities were warmly
inclined to our spirit of joy.
I sang and screeched and howled and Donovan roared. We told snappy tales about
Thors many fine qualities, of his travelling companions, of our desire to uncover the
magic in our lives that makes us joyous even amid the imperfect drudgery that seems
always ready to swamp our days.
Three brilliant phrases emerged as we seethed and celebrated.

Wyrd trumps Will

This gem came to me in my meditation. I have in the past (and well after I should have
known better) had this idea that if I fill myself with enough magic then with my powerbloated ego I can blast the hard things in my life into halcyon dream-perfection. Clearly
a notion that can lead to disappointment!
What crystallised as I meditated was something Ive explored several times recently
with brilliant people in my life that we dont get to live a richly magical, spirited life
only after weve cleared away all the sources of drudge and struggle.
No, the best way is to call on the magic in the midst of lifes hard work, to have the
courage and creativity and humour to find magic even amidst the awesome mundanity
of dealing with the ignorant, foolish, and petty (at some level that means all of us); in
dealing with the unrelenting challenges of work and money and stale repetition and Inever-have-enough-time.
So go with wyrd, dont try to fill your will up with numinous force, youll just waste it
in exhausting struggle. Instead work with wind, tide, and wit. Cut with the grain, dance
when you are tempted to stomp grumpily. Empty yourself and you cannot be drained
be a conduit, theres an endless supply of magic that just desperately wants to be tapped
into idiosyncratic human channels. It might or might not produce what you think you
need, but there is a good chance it will produce what you actually need. Let yourself be
curious. Radically curious. Let yourself be bewildered and surprised.
Then in our ritual playfulness a second phrase emerged.
Invoke with Laughter
Chaos magicians tend to think that laughter is the best way to banish magical moments,
spirits, spells, states of mind, anything. Yet in certain senses (not all) this could actually
be a very dry, grey, boring, ugly idea. Could it potentially imply that magic has to be
pompous, serious, over-stuffed, strained, redundantly effortful in a word, insincere, in
a word, dishonest in order to be summoned? What an awful notion seems to
potentially coil implicit in the notion of banish with laughter!
We, on the other hand, we invoked with laughter. We joked about ourselves, people we
know, about our gods, and they joked with us and on us, and it was exquisite. Cascading
joy flooded the mounting force of our ritual, which had no distinct beginning but just
came into tide when it wanted, as we gave it space to do so (a nice example of wyrd
trumps will in action). And Thor is one of the most mirthful figures I can think of, a
truly joyous force in the world: who better to call with hilarity?
We talked about Thurisaz, its recent recurring wyrd appearances in Donovans life. We
agreed that we like this rune, with its scary reputation and its heart of gold. Thurisaz is
like Hagalaz or Nauthiz it invites a reality check and people are afraid of that and
avoid to their cost, or more accurately, to their loss.

And Laguz kept appearing in syncronicitous ways throughout the day, the sea rune, the
rune of hidden riches and mystery! Of terror, and fury, and utter confusion, and yet also
of silk and gold and reveries of graciousness (Nietzsche).
And goats! Thor has a close connection to goats. We celebrated how knowing,
collected, assured, adaptable, tricky, durable, flexible, and just plain weird goats are.
Nobody messes with Goat. Goat is low key. Goat doesnt gab his mouth when he should
be silent. Goat doesnt give away his full abilities, doesnt show his hand out of
narcissism or insecurity. Goat keeps it real. Goat is permanently, impeccably
unflappable. Goat keeps the magic of its membrane in flourishing order. Goat knows
that horns are to be worn, not goofily tooted. What a truly awesome role model.
Ritual, not Routine
Then the third phrase came, and it was a verbal crack of thunder as it sprang from
Donovans lips: Ritual, not Routine. Yes! Lets not have lives of routine: numb, stupid,
clanking, ornery, dogmatic. Repetition can also be playful, flowing, artful, even
creative. It can have rhythm and flow and wit. We can move through all the must do
this tasks of life with hang-dog heads, or with halos of fire and supple limbs (in a
casual/subtle/low key way if you want of course).
Its all in how you let yourself attach meaning to the things that unfold. Change the
meaning, change yourselfwell, who knows what sort of brilliant consequences that
might have (you might not even notice them)?
Ritual, not Routine applies literally to the art of doing ritual observance and we were
doing ritual, not empty rote motions! It was sacred play. And this goes beyond into all
of life. The whole of life is potentially a ritual: improvised, filled with joy, serendipity,
learning, healing, growth, courage, and patience in the face of challenge. We forget this
at our peril, falling into the factory farm of our own dullness. Yet it takes so little to stay
in the dance, in the joyous.
Love life is not an item to be checked off on some to-do list, some roster of
accomplishments. And it has nothing to do with the arbitrary turning of events. In this
we aligned ourselves with a tradition that stretches from Lao Tzu (and earlier) to Cicero
and even to Nietzsche, yet without any self-consciousness or reflective pomposity: that
to love this life is wonder, is its own reward, is nourishment complete. That we find
love for life when we give love, not when we churlishly try to force life into the shape
that we ignorantly think is best for us. After all, in an infinitely complex universe, who
can really be sure of what is best for them anyway?
And to those who disapprove of our light feet: perhaps you need a dose of Nietzsches
frhliche wissenschaft, his gay science, his dancing seriousness and courageous
frivolity. Being ponderous and heavy has nothing to do with being profound. Let
yourself embrace the vulnerability and power of dedication and play admixed!
We drank toasts of delicious mead, charged with lashings of chanted Thurisaz runes.
We laughed and prayed and affirmed and quaffed. We drenched the hammer and
offered it up, our sacrifice. We splashed mead on rock, tree, sky, sea, cloud, every
hidden delight of that sacred place. We offered our gratitude liberally.

We ate our lunch happily. We talked to spirits of stone and wood on our walk back
through the forest, the mead sending us into buoyant clairvoyance and exuberant
inspiration.
We talked and ate into the night, and sang, and played music, and warmed ourselves in
the glow of family and dogs and the full moon, and laughed at the limp literalism that
sometimes haunts folk that call themselves Heathens, and marvelled at the privilege
weve been given to flow so easily into the spirit of things (and vice versa).
And I have to re-emphasise nothing said here takes away the reality of the challenge
and difficulty that life presents. If we try to force spirituality into being a magic bullet
for the ease of our burdens then chances are good it will not long tolerate our
presumptuousness, our pandering to our egos fear of suffering (which is not a trivial
thing, but nonetheless which need not be made the maxim of our actions).
The trick might be to get beyond the mole-vision of bean-counting ones entire life into
allotments of effort (lots) and ease (never enough). There is no guarantee that any of us
will see out our journey in the way wed consciously most prefer, but with our eyes
fixed on the horizon (and not on our feet) our chances are that much improved, and the
toil of the path might be somewhat lessened (and if not then so be it we are here to
learn, so lets not miss whatever opportunities we are given).
All such caveats aside, I want to express my profound gratitude for these fine gifts,
these three principles of religious/magical/cultural practiceand for living life, too:
Wyrd trumps Will
Invoke with Laughter
Ritual, not Routine
I pray I remember, and keep living out my remembrance, of these terrible, wonderful
thoughts.
Hail Thor!