A little labor of love and devotion to the art of brewing, the deepest esoteric lore of the gods, the alchemical secrets of mead myths, the sexual magic of seidr and mead, recipes, ethnobotanical lore. The first of many, taking things out of the digital medium and back into your hands. A beautiful cover of parchment, our inspired writing distilling decades of research and hundreds of books into a little pamphlet, in the style of zines and old alchemical monographs.

We are launching a section on mead, mead herbs, heirloom yeasts, drinking horns, mead sticks, fermentation equipment, kits, even if honey if you need it from our own hives. The return to the old ways is about a proactive presencing of the traditions, of finding and incorporating the herbs, yeasts, cultures, ferments back into our biology. The herbs, rituals, power items, projects all activate the dormant DNA of memories. The shamanic initiations of the old forest traditions are still in our blood. The wild mushrooms, the alchemical elixirs, the lore itself, the runes. These activate hidden centers in our brain. Much like the monarch butterfly that can remember the flight path from genetic memory, on travels it never as taken, the instinct and memory is encoded. How much more so can the human, the microcosmic vessel of life, have this deep encoded memory. The gods were obsessed with memory. the well of Mimir (memory), the memory draughts of mead, Odin’s raven of memory he feared would not return. These are all the deep anxieties of lost identity, of losing one’s context in the world, of one’s place. Science wants to convince you of rational world that sprung from nothing, but you are an accident, a happenstance, a side effect of carbon and gases. You are insignificant accident, with no ultimate meaning or purpose. Or you are give the other side of the ultimatum, a fatalistic victim/savior codependent nightmare with a neurotic demiurge from the desert. We follow the example of Odin, ever thirsting for knowledge. He is the god of shamans, magic, poetic frenzy, only later a war god from elite kings who used is name to legitimize their position when it served them, but they sold their tribes out for missionary money from Rome.

Life is a quest, a chance for greatness, heroic initiation, finding the elixir, experiencing the true organic light of the goddess. Life is precious, a dream, a short incarnation to be physical and participate and become initiated into being, the deep aspects of what it means to exist surrounded by an abyss of nothingness. Our gods carved out meaning from dead giants, formed the world out of old bones, and forged and breathed life into man. We are animated with spirit, the spark of life carefully resonating in its skull respectable. The blank wall of mystery surrounds us. We have fragments of traditions, shadows of lore, the gods sleep in exiled realms. We can awake them, we can embody them we can invoke them in entheogenic frenzy. We can form bonds, build tribe, carve meaning, etch our Will and Intention into the frigid aether of space and time. We can trace the true Hyperborean traditions of Baldr and Apollo, to the Thulean realms of the true Polar Tradition. The memory banks of our myths, the plant spirits of our botanical allies, the skillful techniques of our alchemy and seething sorcery, the genetic folk soul pulsing through our veins awakes dormant gods, dormant humanity, and embraces life.

The gods feared for the loss of their soma, their mead they were anxious for the coming unbound monsters. We must become strength, pierce the veil of the delusion and illusion and awaken from the domesticated slumber of the freedom and abundance created by our ancestors and shake off the weakness, excuses and doubts. We hope you use our herbs, writings, power items and the traditions we seek to transmit to transmute you life into one of authentic initiation, integrity and heroic striving for the best self. Thank you for reading, follow us on Instagram for daily communiques, specials, and to contact.