TEUTONIC MAGIC - Awaken Video

control of both the continuation of life implicit in the sexual act and the personal death it encompasses
as both the ecstatic loss of awareness and the physical giving up of vital force. Ritually, eihwaz is a
Eihwaz shows its being in the body as the spinal fire,[5] the kundalini forcecontrolled orgasm being the
rune of the death-initiation. It also corresponds to the staff-which shows the vitki’s steadfastness of will
piercing through all the worlds from the lowest to the highest and carries the entire range of her/his
magic-and to the wand. It may also be seen as a shield, especially in cases of magical duels, in which Ullr
may be called upon to aid and shield the vitki+ You should also remember that one of the greatest sides of
eihwaz’s being is that of shielding the soul through all hardship. Eihwaz governs deep, mighty, and
sudden transformation on all levels. Eihwaz may be used both to store and to send power.
A stone which works well with eihwaz is smoky quartz, which, like clear quartz, shows the hagalazstructure
of the World-Tree, but adds to that the hidden fire of the natural radiation which has darkened
the crystal and gives it its transformational character. Smoky quartz has also been used in raising and
guiding the spinal fire.
Eihwaz: Meditation
You are walking through a forest in winter.
The trees are gnarled and leafless, their craggy bark gray and black. Dead grass crunches beneath your
boots as you walk. In a little while you come out of the forest and into a field where the snow has blown
into drifts at the north sides of the stone barrows that rise from the silent earth. You look about yourself
uneasily and walk a little faster; you know that a barrows-field is a bad place for the living when evening
begins to darken the dull gray sky.
Ahead of you, you see a tall, lone tree, red berries bright among its dark green needles. As you get
closer, you mark that there is a longbow and one arrow leaning against the low stone well at the tree’s
foot.
The sky is darkening, the barrow-mounds fading into uncanny shadows across the field. Something
rustles faintly behind you. You look back quickly, but there is nothing there. You hasten to the yew tree
and take up the bow and arrow.
Looking around yourself, you strain your eyes to see if anything is coming through the darkness
behind you. Everything is still for a moment, then rock grates on rock and you see a pale, unholy light
from one of the barrow mounds. The light glows around a figure-a dry, brown corpse of a large man,
whose black fingernails have grown into thick claws. His grave-clothes hang on his sinewy limbs in pale
tatters; rings of gold still adorn his bony fingers and arms. The draugr walks clumsily and slowly, but
steadily towards you, his moon-eyed gaze filling you with fear. You want to flee but the tree behind you
blocks your escape, holding you up. Still a little way from you, the draugr reaches out his arms as if to
embrace you. You clutch your bow tightly; strengthened, you nock the arrow and let it fly in one smooth
burst. It pierces the draugr’s withered skin and sinks between his ribs. His corpse-light goes out and you
hear his bones clattering together as they fall into the icy grass.
Amazed by the might of the bow, you pull the string back again, as far as it will go. Suddenly you
hear a cracking noise. The bow breaks before you can drop it, sinew wrapping around your neck and
choking your wind off as the jagged end punches into your guts with a stabbing, searing pain that spreads
through your body like fiery poison. Your feet dangling, you hang onto the spear of yew wood in you
with a death-grip as a mighty wind roars up around you.
The pain slowly fades into numbness. Your sight darkens and clears again as you look down into the
kingdom of Hel far, far below at the roots of the tree on which you hang. The land is all black and gray.
Corpses move slowly about like beetles in it, some fresh with the marks of sickness or bleeding wounds
on them, some green or black with rot, and some all bare bones. Serpents gnaw at the roots of the tree like
maggots at flesh. You see yourself mirrored far below: a hanged corpse with black face and dead tongue
sticking out, circled by ravens who pluck off beakfuls of meat. Above, you see a shining eagle at the
crown of the tree, a noble bird over the roof of a golden hall which glows like a jewel. You hang halfway
between, the winds turning your body about.
Far down at the root, you see a spark running up the trunk of the tree from the nest of serpents. The
spark grows to a great flash of fire, striking upward through your body like a lightning bolt. You cry out
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