Seiðr craft - chapter 1: Introduction
In this series, I will guide you through what is essential to understand seiðr and the craft of the North. This is not a light undertaking. Before seiðr, before rune song, before trance or vision, there comes something quieter and far more fundamental: learning how to stand to centre, to ground, to take your place within the woven web of wyrd.
Many people approach me eager to begin the magical arts. Some feel naturally attuned; others believe they carry gifts. Yet even those with real sensitivity often want to rush straight into seiðr without first learning its lessons and foundations. This is dangerous not because the gods are hostile, but because without roots, the branches cannot hold.
Seiðr craft or any deep spiritual art - is not something to be rushed. It demands patience, discipline, and humility. Even the simplest aspects of this path take years to internalise. It cannot be mastered in a day or even a year. The craft must be respected; its rules exist not to restrict you but to keep you and those around you - safe.
On Gifts and Growth
It is true that some awaken to their spiritual side early in life; others develop heightened awareness later and many will never feel called to these arts at all. That is the common picture of “being gifted.”
The truth is more nuanced. Certain gifts may be rare, but the capacity to ground, to centre and to connect with the gods is available to everyone. These are not privileges; they are practices. Whether or not you feel you were “born gifted” matters less than your willingness to learn, to be still, and to grow.
Many today describe themselves as empaths, energy sensitive, or intuitively attuned. These terms point to real experiences, but they are only the beginning. Seiðr and the crafts of the North offer a way to refine such sensitivities (shaping them into something disciplined and meaningful) but only when approached with time, wisdom, reverence, and patience.
This series begins with the foundations: cleansing, grounding, centring. These are the roots of Yggdrasil. From there we will move into deeper practices: seiðr, galdr, runecraft, and beyond. Each stage builds on the last, like branches rising from a strong trunk. Skip the roots and the branches wither. Cultivate the roots and the tree grows toward the sky.
This is the path I offer you - not a shortcut, but a way to walk the Northern mysteries with steadiness, respect, and depth.
*If you want to learn about types of spiritual gifts, click below >
But first, whether you identify as gifted or not, you must learn the basics of approaching the gods. I will cover the foundations so that everyone can learn.
When a person seeks to begin the fundamentals of spiritual work, the first lesson is to become attuned to their own spirit or, in Norse terms, to their hugr (mind, spirit, thought). Without this inner alignment, no deeper practice can take root. We must be willing to break ourselves down, to burn away what no longer serves, until we are remade in the fires of transformation. By this I mean the old baggage we all carry: past traumas, unresolved quarrels, and the shadow aspects we leave unacknowledged. These must be faced if we are to grow or even attempt seiðr craft.
As I wrote in “Understanding Wyrd/Fate,” each person walks a set growth path. Lessons return again and again until we learn them. When ignored, they repeat as chaos cycles destructive patterns of thought and behaviour that trap us in the same struggles.
Some of the most common growth paths include:
The Need for Approval – Living only to be liked, forever chasing external validation.
Abandonment and Fear of Loss – Clinging too tightly or pushing others away out of fear of being left behind.
Power and Control – Seeking to dominate others or situations to feel secure.
Sacrifice of the Self – Always putting others first, never claiming one’s own needs or voice.
Avoidance and Escape – Running from problems instead of facing them, repeating mistakes endlessly.
Self-Sabotage – Undermining your own opportunities through fear or unworthiness.
Pride and Stubbornness – Refusing to admit mistakes, clinging to ego instead of truth.
Fear of Change – Resisting transformation even when wyrd itself is urging it.
Attachment to Pain – Holding on to wounds or grudges, reliving them instead of healing.
The Illusion of Control – Believing you can shape everything, rather than knowing when to yield to wyrd.
Not all people will resolve every one of these lessons within their lifetime - some are lifelong challenges. But for those who would walk the path of seiðr craft, the first responsibility is to recognize your own growth path: to know which lessons are being repeated, and what must be faced in order to move forward.
This is about bringing your hugr (your spirit-mind, your conscious self) into harmony with all parts of your being, so that your spiritual self and physical self are aligned. If this work is ignored, if you try to leap straight into the deeper arts without facing your growth cycles, your hamingja (your personal luck, fortune, and spiritual strength) will be weighed down with negativity. And without a strong hamingja, there can be no true respect for the craft and what ever may be preformed can be dangerous - you can end up causing damage to your wyrd which will keep you in a permanent chaos loop.
Rules of Seiðr-Craft
Seiðr is not child’s play, nor is it the theater of those who wish to appear wise. It is an ancient art that bends the will, pierces the veil, and calls to powers greater than ourselves. Those who walk this path without respect are torn by it. Those who walk with humility are shaped and strengthened.
The rules of the craft are not written in stone, yet they are older than memory. They rise from the wyrd web, from the voices of the Norns, from the pattern seen again and again in the sagas: when pride, folly, or recklessness takes hold, ruin follows. When patience, respect, and truth are held, wisdom grows.
What follows are the five laws I teach to all who would begin the work. They are not suggestions. They are the frame of the high seat, the grain of the staff, the root that anchors the Tree.
1. Virðing - Respect
(virðing = honour, reverence)
Respect is the first law. To step into seiðr without reverence is to walk blind into a storm.
The Æsir and Vanir are not toys to command. To call to them is to enter exchange, not demand.
The landvættir (land-spirits) are guardians. Trample them and they will close their ears; honour them and they will open the ways.
Your ancestors are your roots. Forget them and you float like a severed branch; remember them and you are never alone.
Self-respect matters: if you treat your body and spirit as worthless, why would the unseen treat you with worth?
Lore: In Eyrbyggja saga, defiling sacred land leads to disaster. Adam of Bremen writes of the great tree at Uppsala, revered with sacrifice. Respect was survival, not sentiment.
If ignored: luck sours, the land grows cold, the gods turn away, spirits test you until you break.
In practice: begin with offerings, however small - water to the ground, bread for the wights, words of gratitude. Approach as guest, not master.
2. Þolinmæði - Patience and Discipline
(þolinmæði = endurance, forbearance)
Odin hung nine nights on Yggdrasil. He gave an eye at Mímisbrunnr. He sacrificed “myself to myself” before the runes were revealed. If even the High One paid with suffering and time, do not expect the path to open quickly.
Seiðr is slow work. Roots must grow deep before branches bear fruit. Daily discipline (grounding, offerings, chant) must repeat until it sinks into bone.
Lore: Hávamál shows wisdom costs. The völva in Eiríks saga rauða is honoured because she has trained long.
If ignored: chasing visions without patience leads to delusion; rushing to power without discipline burns bright, then falls to shadow.
In practice: build rhythm. Breathe on rising. Mark moons with offerings. Keep a journal - for visions, failures, boredom, and silence. Every stumble is part of the weaving.
3. Mörk - Boundaries
(mörk = border, boundary)
The völva does not fling her soul open to every whisper. Some voices are false, some hostile, some shadows of her own hugr.
In Eiríks saga rauða, the völva sits on the high-seat while attendants sing varðlokkur (warding-songs) to shield and to filter. This is not empty ceremony; it is safeguard.
Lore: Saga after saga shows that failures of boundary (spiritual or social) end in ruin; seiðr magnifies this truth tenfold.
If ignored: you become porous, exhausted, manipulated; tricksters and parasites arrive, madness follows.
In practice: shield with chant, staff, and rune. State aloud: “Only those in right frith may approach.” Close every working with dismissal; touch earth, eat, return to the body.
4. Sannindi - Truth
(sannindi = truth, reality, honesty)
Seiðr reveals - and tests. If you cannot face your own truth, you will never hold the truths of others.
Odin sought wisdom not for comfort, but at cost. He chose clarity over ease. Many wish to see visions but fear to see themselves; the shadow in the chest will twist every vision until confronted.
Lore: The seeress in Völuspá speaks Ragnarök plainly; truth is what the Norns weave, not what pleases us.
If ignored: without truth, every vision becomes self-deception; you believe what flatters and poison the craft for others.
In practice: state intent; keep a working record; separate perception from interpretation; admit error. Honesty with self is the hardest discipline.
5. Ábyrgð - Responsibility
(ábyrgð = responsibility, accountability)
Every working of seiðr ripples through wyrd. The thread you tug touches others. The curse you lay coils back into your own hamingja.
Lore: Feuds in the sagas persist because none will own their deeds. Hávamál lists rune-songs for healing, protection, binding, and harm - each with weight.
If ignored: wyrd snarls, hamingja weakens, reputation blackens; the web will correct you harshly.
In practice: before you work, ask: Who will be touched? What will this cost? What will it bind me to? Never act thoughtlessly. Every deed is exchange.
Why These Rules Matter
The five laws are not shackles; they are alignments. Many newcomers mistake them for restrictions, a set of prohibitions that limit freedom. In truth, they are the opposite. They are the framework that makes freedom possible - the conditions under which the craft flourishes without tearing you apart.
Seiðr is not a safe or neutral practice. It touches wyrd, crosses the boundaries of worlds, and weaves directly into your hamingja - your store of spiritual might, your luck, your reputation with both gods and humans. The sagas are filled with examples of those who worked without balance, and they rarely ended well. Pride brought kings to ruin, recklessness tangled families in feuds, deception destroyed whole halls. These rules are what prevent your craft from becoming another cautionary tale.
They hold your hugr (the spirit mind, the seat of thought and will) steady, so that it does not scatter into delusion or exhaustion. They strengthen your hamingja, so that the work increases your fortune instead of draining it. They root you in frith, the state of right order and peace so that the strands you weave add harmony to the web rather than knots of chaos.
Consider what is lost when each rule is abandoned:
Without virðing (respect), you lose allies. The gods turn cold, the land spirits shut their ears, the dead retreat into silence. Alone, you are exposed.
Without þolinmæði (patience and discipline), you lose depth. Visions become shallow, skills brittle, and your endurance falters the moment strain arrives.
Without mörk (boundaries), you lose safety. Every whisper is mistaken for a god, every shadow welcomed, until your mind is no longer your own.
Without sannindi (truth), you lose clarity. Self-deception twists your sight, and every revelation becomes illusion.
Without ábyrgð (responsibility), you lose your hamingja itself. Actions echo back, debts come due, and the web tightens like a snare.
But when these five are honoured the craft becomes steady, clean, and strong. Respect draws allies to your side. Patience grows roots deep enough to bear storms. Boundaries let you open without being consumed. Truth keeps your sight clear. Responsibility ensures that what you weave enriches your wyrd rather than ensnaring it.
These laws form the staff road of seiðr. They are the shaft you lean upon, the high seat you sit within, the root and branch that connect you to Yggdrasil itself. With them, you can move between worlds and return whole. With them, your words carry weight, your sight pierces veils, and your deeds ripple through the web in strength rather than ruin.
This is why the rules matter: not as rules imposed, but as truths discovered. They are not chains - they are the grain of the staff, the warp of the fabric, the law of the craft itself.
You now stand at the threshold of the work. Before you lies the path of seiðr, but do not mistake this introduction as a simple preamble. Everything that follows rests on the foundation we have built here.
You have learned that seiðr is not play, not spectacle, not something to be rushed. It is a demanding craft that touches wyrd itself. It requires alignment: respect, patience, boundaries, truth, and responsibility. These five are not external rules laid upon you - they are the laws that govern the web whether you acknowledge them or not. To ignore them is to walk unprepared into storm and shadow. To embody them is to stand steady, to weave with clarity, to walk the staff road with honour.
Think of these laws as the frame of the seiðhjallr, the high seat of the völva. Without virðing, the seat has no foundation. Without þolinmæði, it cannot bear weight. Without mörk, its edges collapse. Without sannindi, the view from it is distorted. Without ábyrgð, the words spoken from it unravel the weaver’s own wyrd.
The chapters ahead will take us deeper - into each law in turn, into practice, into the lived rhythm of the craft. But before we begin, pause here. Take time to let these teachings settle. Reflect on your own path: where you honour, where you rush, where you lack boundary, where you avoid truth, where you refuse responsibility. This reflection is not a detour; it is the work itself.
When you are ready, we begin with the first law: Virðing - Respect.
For without respect, no step on this path can stand.