<html> <head> <title>Fehu</title> <link href="./style.css" rel="stylesheet" type="text/css" title="main" media="all"> <meta name="viewport" content="width=device-width, initial-scale=1.0"> <link rel="icon" href="../img/runes/fehu.svg"> </head> <body> <p class="center"><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>foresight is needed</li> <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> <li>strengthening psychic powers</li> <li>promotion of personal evolution</li> <li>drawing wealth or riches</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> </body> </html>