Several years ago, I tried doing a trance journey to Asgard each night of the 12 days of Yule, starting with the solstice. It was fascinating, but I didn’t write the results down. This year, I’m trying to do the same thing with automatic writing. I’ll post each night separately up to the present, and hope to keep it up through to the end. For those who like such things, this is my Yule gift to you.


Breathe in…and out…in…and out…let your outer awareness fade away. I am at ease, focused. It is very easy to go within.

I see the place from which I begin, dark and muddy now with winter, fir trees swaying in the wind off the sea, cloud clinging and swirling around them. The mist swirls, and I see a path. I follow through manzanita bushes that catch on my cloak. The path winds downward, and now it is lined by fir trees, whose fallen needles make a soft and silent path. I come to the bottom of the slope and find a blaze of light, and the entry to the Midgard that lies within.

In its center is Yggdrasil, greatest of all trees. A glimmer of rainbow light passes through its upper branches, and as I turn I can see it arching downward and passing through the plane of Midgard. I cross the plain, and suddenly the Bridge is before me. Shimmering rainbow mists, how can it support me?

Raven sails down to alight on my shoulder. “Take my shape”, she tunes her voice to the moan of the wind. “Take my shape,” she says, and I feel myself changing, body growing sleek, arms lengthening, strengthening, until I have a shape that can ride the wind. She starts off, and I follow, together winging over the shimmer of rainbow light until we come to the great Gate of Asgard.

I bow to Heimdall. ”Fair father, I am here on pilgrimage. We have given the gifts we could to the gods. Is there a party, and may I come and observe?” He nods.

“Go to Gladsheim,” he says. “Not to the main feasting hall, but the one with the silver entry.” He opens the gate, and Raven and I pass through.

I find Odin in a small chamber off the mead hall. Even the einherior are quiet tonight. But there are candles. Candles everywhere, on the surface of tables…. It is surprisingly quiet.

This is how it begins, he says. In stillness and hope, as we encourage Sunna to return. He is wearing, oddly enough, a white tunic heavy with embroidery and tablet woven braid with gold. The white in his hair and beard shine. Light fills the small room, shining on the smooth feathers of his ravens.

“This is the beginning of the holiest season. Tonight we reflect on our hopes and fears, and prepare to affirm all good things for the coming year. A well-stocked larder, a clean house, labor finished so that you may enjoy its fruits. We watch the light burn, and let it fill us. We are the reginn, the shining powers, we are the lights that illuminate your days. Look around the room, and you may glimpse us as we truly are.”

I look around, and realize that he is not alone. The other gods sit with him like pillars of light. My gaze moves around the circle, and I recognize the essence that shines through each one-—Thor’s steadfast courage, Sif’s devotion; Frigga, her face changing like light on water as the spirits of her handmaidens shine through. Freyja blazes like a fire, sparkling and spitting, Freyr’s flame is more steady and warm. Tyr is a pillar of light that blazes up and shines down from above. One by one I salute them.

The stillness and light are warm and restful. But at last a time comes when there is a stir, and I understand that it is time to go. I bow and thank them all, and make my way to the door, and across Gladsheim, and to the gate. Raven is waiting. Heimdall smiles and opens the gate, we fly back down to the plain, where I resume my human form and travel through the woods and up the trail and back through my beginning place. And then we are home. Breathe in and out and open and waken.