Under The Whip

She Came to Me in Scent and Silence

I didn’t wake up shaken by this dream. I woke up held.

In the dream, I was back at my childhood home, my Mema’s house, after she had passed. The air felt heavy in that way old houses do when they’re full of memory. I wasn’t there to linger. I was there to clean. To sort. To decide what stayed and what was finally ready to go.

And then I smelled her perfume.

Not imagined. Not faint. Present. Anyone who has lost someone they love knows how powerful scent is. It bypasses logic. It bypasses time. The moment her perfume filled the room, I knew, this wasn’t memory. This was presence. This was my Mema letting me know she was there with me, watching, witnessing, not clinging or pulling me backward, but standing beside me as I moved forward.

Cleaning her house felt like more than grief work. It felt liminal, like I was standing between the life I’ve lived and the life I’m stepping into. Every object I touched asked a question, Does this still serve me? Does this carry wisdom, or only weight?

When I found her dreamcatcher, I stopped.

I didn’t keep everything. I didn’t want to. But that, I chose. I claimed it intentionally. Not out of sentimentality, but out of knowing. I said aloud that I wanted to keep it, and I handed it to Damon. That mattered. It wasn’t about possession. It was about trust. About shared guardianship. About allowing protection to exist outside of my own hands.

And then the owl came.

A large white owl descended from above and landed on my arm. It didn’t circle. It didn’t threaten. It didn’t test me. It chose me. And it stayed.

White owls don’t carry fear for me. They carry clarity. Wisdom that sees in darkness. The kind of knowing that doesn’t need noise or force. This owl felt ancient and quiet and sure. It arrived only after I claimed what I was carrying forward. After I made a choice rooted in discernment, not fear. It refused to leave.

That’s when I understood, this dream wasn’t about loss. It was about transition. About protection during a crossing. About being guided, not pushed, into a better future.

Through a Norse lens, this feels deeply ancestral. The disir, female ancestral guardians, are said to stay close, especially through maternal lines. They don’t haunt. They guard. They guide. They witness. And sometimes they come not as faces, but as sensations. As scent. As animals that see what others can’t.

This owl could be my fylgja, my spirit companion, appearing because I’m in the middle of an identity shift, a grief integration, a becoming. It could be Freyja touched energy, tied to fate and spirit walking between worlds. Or it could simply be the shape my protection needed to take so I could understand it.

What I know is this, I am not walking alone.

Even the presence of my Masters in the dream matters. They weren’t directing me. They weren’t controlling the process. They were simply there. Witnessing. Containing. Offering structure while I did heavy inner work. It didn’t feel like submission loss. It felt like chosen safety. Like being held steady while I sorted through something sacred. This dream didn’t warn me. It affirmed me.

It told me that my grief is integrating, not consuming me. That I am allowed to keep what is sacred. That I am protected while I walk through shadow. That my intuition is deepening, and that I can trust it. Most of all, it told me that my Mema hasn’t left me behind.

She came to me in scent and silence to say, I’m here. You’re doing well. Keep going. Very fitting for day five of Yule!
 

A Norse Pagan Journey Through the Winter Solstice
December 21, 2025 - January 1, 2026

As a Norse Pagan, Yule is one of the most sacred and grounding times of the year for me. It isn’t just one night of celebration, it is twelve nights of reflection, honoring the Gods, the ancestors, the land, and ourselves as we pass through the longest darkness and welcome the slow return of the light.

I wanted to share a friendly, educational breakdown of the 12 Nights of Yule, what each night traditionally represents, and simple ways I like to observe them. You don’t need to do everything perfectly, Yule is about intention, not pressure.

Night 1 Mother Night (Mōdraniht)
Represents - The Mothers, Disir, female ancestors, lineage
**How to celebrate - **Light candles, honor your maternal line, sit quietly, journal, or make offerings to the Disir. This night is gentle and introspective.

Night 2 - Fate & the Norns
Represents - Wyrd, destiny, the threads of our lives
**How to celebrate - ** Reflect on the past year, do divination, write what you’re releasing and what you’re weaving forward.

Night 3 - Frigg & the Hearth
Represents - Home, protection, marriage, care
**How to celebrate - ** Clean your space, tend the hearth (literal or symbolic), cook something comforting, and focus on home energy.

Night 4 - Freyr
Represents - Fertility, peace, prosperity
**How to celebrate - ** Offer grains, bread, or drink. Set intentions for abundance and growth in the coming year.

Night 5 - Freyja
Represents - Love, magic, sovereignty, desire
**How to celebrate - ** Self care, glamour magic, devotion, or honoring your own power and worth.

Night 6 - Ancestors
**Represents - **Those who came before us
**How to celebrate - ** Share stories, set out food or drink, speak their names, or sit in gratitude for the lives that made yours possible.

Night 7 - The Wild Hunt (Odin)
Represents - Chaos, wisdom, transformation
**How to celebrate - ** Drumming, chanting, offerings to Odin, time outdoors, or embracing shadow work and truth.

Night 8 - Thor
**Represents - ** Protection, strength, boundaries
**How to celebrate - ** Ask for protection over your home and loved ones. This is a great night for warding and grounding.

Night 9 - Wisdom & Sacrifice
Represents - What we give to grow
**How to celebrate - ** Reflect on lessons learned, what you’ve sacrificed, and what knowledge cost you something to gain.

Night 10 - The Landvættir
**Represents - **Land spirits, nature, balance
**How to celebrate - ** Offerings to the land, water, or animals. Thank the spirits of the place you live.

Night 11 - The Returning Sun
**Represents - **Hope, rebirth, light
**How to celebrate - **Candles, joy, laughter, feasting, community. This is when celebration really blooms.

Night 12 - Oaths & New Beginnings
Represents: -Renewal, vows, the coming year
How to celebrate - Make oaths carefully. Speak intentions aloud. Close Yule with gratitude and hope.

Yule doesn’t have to be loud or elaborate. Some nights I drum and sing to Odin under the stars. Other nights I sit quietly with a candle and my thoughts. Both are sacred.

If you’re new to Norse Paganism, or just curious, I hope this helps make Yule feel a little more approachable, and a little more magical.

May your Yule be warm, your hearth protected, and your path lit as the sun slowly returns.

As a Norse Pagan, Yule is one of the most sacred and meaningful times of the year for me. It isn’t just a “holiday”, it is a season, a spiritual reset, and a reminder that even in the deepest dark, light always returns.

Yule marks the Winter Solstice, the longest night of the year. It is the turning point of the wheel, when the sun is reborn and the slow return of light begins. Spiritually, it represents death and rebirth, rest and renewal, honoring the ancestors, and trusting that growth is happening even when we cannot see it.

Traditionally, Yule isn’t just one day. In Norse practice, it often spans 12 nights, beginning on the Solstice. Each night holds its own energy, a time for reflection, intention setting, honoring the Gods, and connecting with kin, both living and dead.

For me, Yule is about slowing down. It is about sitting with the dark instead of fearing it. It is a time to honor Odin for wisdom and sacrifice, to acknowledge the strength of the Gods and Goddesses, and to thank them for walking with us through hardship and transformation. Yule reminds me that survival itself is sacred.

In my house, Yule is cozy, intentional, and deeply personal.

I decorate with evergreens, pinecones, candles, and symbols of the Norse Gods.

I light candles each night to honor the returning sun.

I keep an altar refreshed with offerings, mead, bread, apples, and written intentions.

I spend time journaling, reflecting on the year behind me and what I want to carry forward.

I honor my ancestors, speaking their names and thanking them for the strength I carry.

There is always good food, warmth, laughter, and moments of quiet reverence.

Something I still do every Yule is a tradition I shared with my Mema. We would make a big pot of hot cocoa, stirring in peppermint, then turn off most of the lights and sit quietly by the fireplace. Soft holiday music would play in the background, the tree glowing, the house fully decorated, and we would simply exist in the peace of the moment. I continue this tradition today, even though she has been gone for twenty years. It is how I honor her memory, and how I feel closest to her on the Solstice.

Some nights are celebratory. Others are soft and introspective. Both are equally sacred. Tonight I’ll likely step outside with my frankincense and my drum, singing to Odin and raising a toast in his honor. While I don’t have mead this year, I do have a very special imported beer from Bavaria that Calvin and I will share, and that feels just as meaningful. I’ll make my offerings to the Gods, then spend the rest of the evening enjoying the company of family and friends.

Yule doesn’t demand perfection. It asks for honesty, presence, and respect for the cycles of life. It teaches patience, resilience, and trust in the turning of time. And honestly? It gives me permission to rest without guilt.

So if you celebrate Yule, or are simply curious. I hope this season brings you warmth, peace, and a reminder that even the longest night gives way to dawn.

Hail Odin!

Hail the Old Gods.
Hail the returning sun.
And happy Yule to those who walk this path.

Skal!