DeadEndShrineOnline/runes/01_fehu.html

<title>Fehu</title>
<p><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Runic_letter_fehu.svg"><img src="../img/runes/fehu.svg" alt="Fehu rune" title="Fehu rune"></a></p>
<h1>Fehu</h1>

<p>Traditional meaning: cattle, wealth</p>

<p>Meanings when upright:</p>

<ul>
	<li>creative fire</li>
	<li>synergy</li>
	<li>networking and creative connections</li>
	<li>self-knowledge</li>
	<li>good luck / hope</li>
	<li>fortunate outcome</li>
</ul>

<p>Meanings when inverted:</p>

<ul>
	<li>something is blocking luck</li>
	<li>hoarding one's wealth wrongly</li>
</ul>

<p>Fehu can be useful for:</p>

<ul>
	<li>lightening depression</li>
	<li>easing conflicts</li>
	<li>inspiration</li>
</ul>

<hr>

<p>Anglo-Saxon rune poem:</p>

<blockquote>Feoh byþ frofur fira gehwylcum;<br/>sceal Ðeah manna gehwylc miclun hyt dælan<br/>gif he wile for drihtne domes hleotan.</blockquote>

<blockquote>Wealth is a comfort to all men;<br/>yet must every man bestow it freely,<br/>if he wish to gain honour in the sight of the Lord.</blockquote>

<p>Norwegian rune poem:</p>

<blockquote>Fé vældr frænda róge;<br/>føðesk ulfr í skóge.</blockquote>

<blockquote>Wealth is a source of discord among kinsmen;<br/>the wolf lives in the forest.</blockquote>

<p>A modern poem:</p>

<blockquote>
	<p>"You know exactly what kind of future I want,"<br/>
	you replied<br/>
	one night<br/>
	when anxiety did haunt<br/>
	my skin, my ligaments, my every bone,<br/>
	wondering when comes my time to return home.</p>

	<p>Let the seals<br/>
	be broken; let the truth<br/>
	be revealed!<br/>
	It's been a long time since I let myself feel<br/>
	anything other than monotony, playing the marathon<br/>
	runner in sight of the finish line,<br/>
	the last of the homework<br/>
	or typing 'til midnight.</p>

	<p>This draconic blood I could never still,<br/>
	but still I managed to amass myself a hill<br/>
	of words not spoken, not written down,<br/>
	enough to bury me or in them myself drown.<br/>
	For, I must admit, I was planning<br/>
	on being at least somewhat dead by now<br/>
	with no need for verse or musical tone,<br/>
	just coma's deep sleep 'til you come<br/>
	and finally bring me home.</p>

	<p>"You know what kind of future I desire,"<br/>
	you affirm<br/>
	as I burn<br/>
	on my own funeral pyre<br/>
	over and over again every day,<br/>
	impatient for egress together to Sablade.</p>

	<p>All the writing guides I've ever read say<br/>
	that it's kind of like learning to ride a bike.<br/>
	You never really forget, but sometimes<br/>
	you have to get off and go for a hike<br/>
	dragging the damn thing alongside<br/>
	you until the road is flat and smooth again.</p>

	<p>And sometimes a friend<br/>
	lends<br/>
	you a hand.</p>

	<p>I turn my head to the sunsetting sky<br/>
	bleeding purple and blue and discarded peach rinds.<br/>
	Half-delirious, you're not far behind<br/>
	me<br/>
	as I hold up my hand to catch the waking breeze.<br/>
	A head on my shoulder, a hand on my belt.<br/>
	"Do you hear the leaves rustling? <strong>It's our wealth.</strong>"</p>
</blockquote>