"Oh verily tis a day for such a rant that it will shake thy bones."
Epiphany at last, I finally know exactly what and how I will teach my retreats because spirit told me so. Gone are the days of pandering to the masses and trying to fit in to the New age thing. There are powerful root races that belong to us all. The Faeries, the Elves, Dwarf's, Goblins, Tree Spirits, Giants and Dark Elves, to name but a few. These are not just imaginary creations that flowed from the tip of Tolkein' pen but the supernatural beings that existed in the worlds of our ancestors,
I am a Vitki, a Norse medicine man and I encounter these beings all the time in my Shamanic work. In our modern world these spirits have been delegated to the level of Fairy tale and children's stories, something we come across in our dreams. My task is to wake you up. Every culture across the planet has words for these creatures, Celt, Norse, Saxon, African, Asian and First Nation. Is it a coincidence? Or did we all dream the same dream.
No they exist! But not all have the ability to tune their focus to see between the worlds. My work ,given by spirit, is to slowly help tune my students in, so they can download their own medicine from their ancestors.  There also those I come across who are already TUNED IN and ready to take the plunge much sooner.
The more science studies our Universe with maths and quantum physics, the more they have to accept there are multiple dimensions. Past, present and future exist at the same time but just move between plains... "Time is circular not linear" ask Einstein.
So when in shamanic trance I come across a being from the past, who gifts me knowledge of something in my world and that something comes to pass. Is it divine or just a lucky dream?
"So endeth my rant"

Channelling spirit takes on different forms and styles for each individual but sometimes it comes to me as poem and verses that are down loaded whilst I sleep. In this short yarn, I will relay a verse that came to me in a dream.
I was in a great hall of my ancestors and a victory was being celebrated. Warriors and shield maidens were standing and relaying the story of their part in the great battle, whilst the audience either cheered, heckled or sometimes threw food. Then the lord of the hall banged the table, pointed at me and said
"Wizard, tell us a story or sing us a verse, for your word hoard is great and you speak with such splendour."
I rose to my feet, scanned the gathering, which helped me choose the right tale and the words just came out.

"Three witches by fire bright,
weaving the web of wyrd. 
Counting out the orlog for the the sons of men.


Some they mark as warrior,
some they mark as smith,
others they set to the plough.
All sprang from the loins of Heimdall
and take their place in the tribe of man.

Some they mark as Shaman or Vitki,
Blessed and cursed at the very same moment.
Blessed to have the ears of the Gods 
and the vision to see between the worlds.
Cursed to wander this world alone
and have but the friends you can count on one hand.

I would rather have one good friend
than a thousand acquaintances.
Tis not when the shield wall holds
that friendship is tested.
Tis when the wall breaks
and the courage of men flees the battlefield,
that is the knowing of a true brother.

The battlefield of the Shaman is some what more apocalyptic,
facing demon, phantom and shade.
All these creatures snarling and drooling at the mouth
waiting to rip the Vitki apart.
Tis then, Shaman to Shaman, Brother to Brother,
wrist clasping wrist one last time,
they cheer and charge, ready to take their seats in Valhalla

Today I feel so much better than yesterday, because yesterday I was full to the brim with anxiety over my book. I felt immense obligation to all those who had helped this project be realised. Kelli, Mary and my wife Tara had all given there time and love to this work and I had to repay the debt. That old driven capitalist demon, raised his head again from the depts of my past and kept whispering in my ear  "Sell! Sell! Sell!

For that is what you do when you have a new product. It was not until I talked to Kelli at New 72 Media, that I got the reality check I needed. That was then when I realized I have to let this work be and make it's own role in this world. The book will find it's way into the hands of the people that need it and Odin will guide them to it.
So I set off in to the forest with Boo, my staff and offerings for the Gods, then walked the path to the Spirit tree. Once there I gifted the fruit and bread to the beings and animals of the woodlands, smudged myself in mugwort and softly chanted until the messages came.
I sat before Odin on his high throne, a raven perched on the two pillars of the chair that towred behind my god. In the vision a red leather bound book sat on my lap.
" Bring me that word hoard that lies before me, let me wipe the ego from it, so it is clean and pure once more." The God of my kinsman, dusted off the cover of the book with the black fur cloak that hung around his shoulders.
The Wise-one then passed it to one of the ravens perched above him, who took it in his beak.
" Take this, my eyes and my ears in the world of man, and leave it where ever you feel fit."
The huge bird swooped down at me , just at the last minute arched up and out into the vast blue sky.
" There it is done, your hoard of thoughts now tarvels by the will of Odin. So boy release yourself from it and go about your true work. the others who toiled beside you, also followed the will of Odin. There is no need for obligation, they acted on my behalf. So spead my word, do my will and speak with the voice of Odin in Midgard."
The remaining raven cawed loudly, letting me know my time with the High-one was over and I returned to the world of man.
That morning I left all the worry and anxiety in the forest and walked home at peace once more.

Well it's official, I am an author... Written a book and sold some, I think that qualifies and not only that I was recognized in Trader Joe's Vancouver, WA but that person did think I was Mark Wahlberg. When I got to the check out the girl looked at me strangely and said " Are you?"
"What, Mark Wahlberg?"
"  No?" She said quizzically "Jeremy White."
" Finally, someone got it right."
" I met you at the Astoria Scandinavian festival, you gave me a readings and I purchased some pendants."
Then Tara intervened over my shoulder and said " Don't you think he has the eyes of Heath Ledger?"
Which is a long standing joke and now the girl looked really puzzled, so I explained.
" We were doing another big festival years ago, and this woman was like staring at me like a crazy person, then approached the booth.
" You have the eyes of Heath Ledger."
I wasn't sure if this was a joke, an insult or she wanted them back coz I had stolen them and replied
" Oh really, Did you hear that darling. I have the eyes of Heath Ledger."
Tara sort stepped sideways out the back of the tent to chuckle into her soda can and I tried to explain our products to the stalker.
Any way back to the girl at the check-out. She listens to my story looked at me , paused them shouted ." Oh my God,you do!"
We left the store, debating my eyes.
Tara said" She was just joking"
I said " I am telling you." As another completely random woman sort of quickly walked past me then leaned over to check out my eyes.
Anyway my book is now available all good books stores... NOT REALLY, JUST MY WEBSITE AT PRESENT
http://www.jeremyrjwhite.com/#!raising-the-runes/c19pi

                                      Bare with with me today, this blog is a bit out there

Today was a beautiful bright and sunny morning, when I got up I stare out the window and saw a blue heron eating a fish on the island. As I watched a buzzard swooped down and drove the heron off his breakfast. The thief grabbed his booty and took to flight, the fish hanging beneath his talons. As the buzzard flew over my front porch, he in turn was attached by two bald eagles who stole his spoils and drove him out of the area.
I then looked into the blue sky above my house and there were another four Bald Eagles circling my home. I knew this would be a day of shamanic visions and teachings. I grabbed my flute, my shaman stick and some offering for the forest and set out on my quest.
The spirit tree would not be my destination this day, I would go to the circle of Cedars where I encountered the Gnomic energies. Saying my prayers and honoring the land spirits I scattered my offerings to the four direction and then to the ancestors of this place. I played my flute, (the tune that had come to me as the song of the forest,was played over and over)until the energy felt right.
Then I sat, shook my shaman stick, chanted the nine chants and drifted off into vision.
First came the woodland sprites who herald the coming of the gnomes. The gnomes escorted a beautiful native woman who glowed with a white energy but then she turned towards me, she had two identities. one utter beauty the other mangled and tortured ( Just like the Goddess Hella)
She spoke.
" What do you want white man, come to say your prayers while at the same time a thousand of your kind hack at me with saws and axes. Do you think that your one little prayer will make a difference." She laughed and turned away. I felt ashamed and returned from my vision. The Forest is a living, breathing thing, that we the WHITE MAN harvest for our own needs but the forest was here long before us and does us no harm, in fact she does the opposite , she provides for us and so many other life forms that exist within her
caress
A golden thread still led the path from whence she had come, quickly I gathered my tools together and followed the trail before it faded. I scrambled over fallen trees and and through briers until I came to a spot where the air was still. In this place, no matter what she had said, I played my flute, I chanted my chants and spoke my prayers of medicine.
The sun broke through the canopy and kissed my skin, the forest sprites where present and whispered a name "Skookem Tum Tum" which I know in Chinook Wa Wa means strong heart.
Although I am only one in a thousand, while I am am lucky enough to live in this forest I will do all I can to heal and protect this place.

Yesterday in the post we received a surprise package from the wonderful Francis family, containing British Chocolate, wonderful chocolate , salted caramel turtles a handmade candle and a bottle of Jen's Florida Water ( A holy gift indeed). This special shamanic brew is used by the medicine men and women of the America's for blessings and cleansing and sending prayers. So up I got at the crack of dawn and headed out to the Sacred tree.
Yesterday I was told in a vision that I must say a prayer in the Chinook dialect, so the night before I prepared my message. As I got to the tree, I stood in the gateway and asked permission to enter and awaited a reply from the forest spirits. A blur heron croaked in the distance and I entered the shrine of the tree.
I took out my Chinook words, apologized in advance to the ancestors of this place, if I said it wrong and spoke the prayer. a hush came over the forest and in this stillness I was one with this place. I opened Jen's Florida water and the very first drop I gave to the Earth. I took a swig and remembered how Bill would use it, by sending a spitting vapor into the air. I sent a mist of magic towards the Holy tree. another up into the air that came down  and engulfed my face. At this moment I understood the connection to my own path and the sacred breath of the Dragon, the all encompassing, healing and teaching divine breath.
What a wonderful tool to add to my medicine hoard. I know exactly which rune to add to add to the bottle.

Yesterday morning I woke with an old familiar burning sensation in the last two fingers of my left hand. Echoes of a prolapsed disk and nerve pain have visited to haunt me once more. Before, when these shadows did their work I was just opening up the doorways to the shamanic world and the places these demons took me helped to make me the shaman I am.

Now I embrace the touch of Surt's daughter upon my hand (Surt is a fire demon) for it reminds me of my initiations. A native American man called David used to come into my store to buy my simple runes from me, to leave hanging from trees in the wilderness. David saw me whincing in pain and spoke some profound wisdom to me.

" Embrace the pain brother, it is yours and it shows the spirits are calling you. Remember the visions it gifts you. Love it like you should love every other part of you and it allow it to become one with you."

I did as he said. I stopped taking the handfuls of painkillers, my mind cleared and the meanings of the delirious nightmares became available to me.  The pain was still there but it didn't bother me as much, except in the extreme moments when it took me to the abyss, but every shaman, medicine man or woman must venture there to touch the void every now and then and unite with the spirits.           So welcome old friend, I await your teachings.