llustration of a Pagan sacred site, in Ranheim north of Trondheim, demolished (!) by the non-European Muslim minister of culture in Norway, Hadia Tadjik, to make room for apartments for the growing (immigrant) population in Norway;
When I was a child I sometimes visited an ancient Hörgr, a Pagan altar from the days of yore. It was located on a hill and was surrounded by large and beautiful trees and a natural circle on the ground, used for dance and processions by Ancient Europeans during High festivals. The atmosphere of the place was wonderful, and I felt as if I entered a portal to a better age. The site was simply put engulfed in glamour (i. e. ‘magic’).
My family had a Summer house on Stord, an island off the Norwegian West coast, and when we went there – pretty much every weekend during the course of the Summer throughout my childhood – we sailed past a place called Tysnes (‘Tyr’s Headland’). We never stopped there, I have never been to Tysnes, but I felt the glamour of the area; it drew me in, it drew my mind and spirit in, even though my body was left in our boat. I never looked in any other direction than in the direction of Tysnes when we passed by, so often – trying to get a glimpse of what was there.
Vevatnet (‘the sacred lake’) on Tysnes
There is something very peculiar about old European cultic sites, and they all speak to those willing (and able) to listen. The mere sensation of such a sacred site can be an initiation and a trigger of dormant abilities in the European man. They are like portals into the past. Gates to ancient spirits and influence – and they are just about everywhere in Europe; scattered all over our fine continent.
During my late teens I very much appreciated the idea that you can not just feel the spirits and ghosts of the past, but actually also see them and perhaps even communicate with them – or at they can communicate with you; if you put a mask on. Our forebears believed that you could see and even enter the spirit realm if you put some sort of mask on, and then entered through a gate (a burial mound, a hollow tree, a trapdoor, a well, a bridge et cetera). We know this use of masks from the Greek theatre, but also from the berserk cult and different European religious traditions – and not least from our fairy tales. The idea was that they had to dress up like the dead, to gain access to the realm of the dead – like we are supposed to do on Halloween, the hallow evening when you are hallowed/initiated – when you start the process to become a part of the Hamingja of an honourable dead person chosen by you.
Being an ardent role-player, a natural-born rebel and a well thought through anti-Christian it was naturally not too strange an idea for me to put such a mask on and then enter ancient Pagan sacred sites. Naturally I saw no spirits or ghosts flying about, that is not what our forebears believed they would see either, but I was indeed inspired – by the site and it’s atmosphere. We could say Burzum and it’s music stems from this inspiration; channeled from Pagan hargir auk hôp (‘altars and temples’).
The European sacred sites are often located in the most beautiful places of Europe, where nature alone gives you a feeling of awe and a connection with something spiritual, special and divine. They are there to connect you to your blood (your forebears), your soil (Ôðal) and your meaning of life on all levels. HailaR WôðanaR!
PS. Hargir = pl., horguR = sg.; hôp = pl., hup = sg.
Different European sanctuaries;
