Reweaving the Threads
by Galina Krasskova
Andvari transformed my luck, or rather He gave me the
initial impetus and then taught me to govern that transformation. That is, in
many respects, the secret of the luck Andvari brings: its development (or not)
rests with the choices, behaviors and integrity of the individual him- or
herself. There’s no ‘quick fix’ with Andvari. There is only the slow, steady,
honorable reworking and, where possible, restitution of and for past mistakes.
His is a wisdom that is far older than the fast-paced, egregious,
technologically-based society we live in today. Andvari’s wisdom comes from the
richness of the land that can nourish the people, the roots of the eldest of
trees that support the weight of the branches above, the unmoving strength of
the mountain, and ageless power of wyrd itself.
I learned this partly through my understanding of wyrd and partly through Andvari’s influence (and Fuensanta’s kind teaching). In truth, I am still struggling and learning to integrate His wisdom into my every day life. Perhaps I will always be learning. Most of my adult life was spent in poverty. After a failed ballet career replete with serious injuries, I struggled to make a living in New York City, working first at one low-paying retail job after another until segueing into a secretarial position that was marginally (but only marginally) better. Money, for many years, was something that brought only fear and anxiety: will there be enough? How can I pay all my bills? Gods, will I be out on the street next month? Money was a thing that brought pain and a reminder that my life lacked not only any simple pleasures but even any vestige of security. Not having enough food, being one paycheck away from homelessness, having no financial means of ever bettering my circumstances; these were constant reminders of the ratted, knotted constraint of my ancestral money luck. With those reminders came a pervasive sense not only of anxiety but of shame.
Fuensanta saw this early on in our acquaintance and bided her time until she was able to take me by the hand. She adopted me, and not only gave me a chance for a better life, but taught me step by stumbling step to craft my luck the Andvari way. He allowed this, but with this gift came great and binding taboos, worthy ones, touching upon how I interact with others, how I interact with money, how I live in my skin upon Midgard’s soil and in the dwelling I call home. These taboos touched and continue to touch on every aspect of exchange in my life, from how I treat the beggar who asks for money, to how much I tip the waiter or waitress when I dine out, to what food I buy, to what I do with my old clothing. Money still fills me with terror, but now I turn to Andvari for advice and still my internal furor listening to His sonorous, quiet voice and its unswerving, unshakeable guidance. Through this counsel, I have learned to live in the world rather than simply surviving. I have learned that money is alive as much as any other vaettir. It lives and breaths and shifts and flows, the living manifestation of Fehu. It is sacred as much as the land is sacred. It is not money that has debased itself; rather it is we who have debased it. Money wants to be honored, wants to be acknowledged and partnered with. As with other vaettir, we can have a reciprocal relationship with it. This was a revelation for me.
Many of the lessons were simple: commonsense ideas and guidelines which we have tried to include in this small book. For someone like me, though, this guidance was life-changing. The shame and anxiety that I had lived with for so very long fell away (save for the occasional nightmare, which is quickly banished by the firm hand of reality). I realized that these things were not mine by right, as Fuensanta would say. I had done the best I could, and tried to make amends for those times I had fallen short of Andvari-approved behaviors. I learned the hardest lesson of all: that what is mine by right are those actions and decisions that I choose to make on an intimate day-by-day basis. He removed the blinders that I, like so many other city folk, had learned to wear for survival’s sake.
What was truly amazing for me was seeing how surely the threads of my luck were changing. I belong to Odin, and He’s long pushed me down the road of a Northern Tradition shaman. One of His gifts to me is the ability to read the threads of wyrd and orlog, fate if you will, living threads of causality and consequence. I was well aware, even as I tried hard never to look at it, how tangled and bare was the financial hamingja of my ancestral line. I’m not sure why, but those threads that dealt in any way with material abundance and financial luck were problematic, in some places worn down, in others knotted and tangled, in still others taut and spare with overtones of grasping desperation. When Fuensanta adopted me, I became part of her ancestral threads, and this new influence overcame many of the problems of my own threads. I had to work hard and maintain my end of the bargain, so to speak, where Andvari was concerned … but over a very short period of time, luck began to flow more healthily in my own odal threads. It was as if He’d grafted me onto Fuensanta’s, which by virtue of carrying His blood, were stronger than my own. For this I shall be ever grateful.
I see things differently now in a way I never expected. It isn’t just the immense gratitude for the teaching and this opportunity to learn and grow in so many new ways. Andvari has taught me to find value in the things of Midgard, the things of a world that for most of my life I never liked and never understood. My interpersonal relationships have changed as well, as these too involve reciprocity and exchange, all Andvari’s venues—though don’t be going to Him for love advice. It will, frankly, piss Him off. He’s not about love. He’s about knowing what is yours and knowing what is not, and what, therefore, must be given in exchange. Through Andvari, I have learned lessons of value: not just of valuing those things around me, but of learning to value myself and my own talents. In doing this, I have come to a far greater awareness of the luck threads of those with whom I interact, and this has begun to teach me compassion.
Andvari may be stern and difficult to approach, even at times downright uncommunicative, but He is not unkind. Of all the many Gods and Goddesses that I have honored, worked for, or approached, He is among the fairest. He values honest work and commitment, even when we make mistakes. He’s a firm but patient teacher and His lessons enrich one’s life.