A Hermit’s Path: I Walk Alone with the Gods

I am a seeker. I am not a leader. I am not a follower. I am not a group joiner, nor someone drawn to hierarchy, titles, or authority. For 33 years I have walked my Norse Pagan path alone, not because I feel rejected or isolated—but because that is the way I like it. It is where the voices of the gods, goddesses, ancestors, and spirits speak clearest to me—beneath trees, beside fire, under the stars, and within my own spirit.
I am not here to teach anyone, at least not in the traditional sense. I am not looking for students. I do not charge for spiritual knowledge. I do not offer courses, mentorship, or magickal services. I do not belong to any Norse Pagan organization, nor do I wish to. I have no interest in becoming a recognized figure within the community, and I avoid every kind of spiritual celebrity, priesthood, or gatekeeping.
What I do is share. I speak my own truths, not because I think they are the only truths, but because they are mine. If they inspire you, then I am honored. But I am not your guide. The gods are your guide. The ancestors, the spirits, the land—they will whisper to you as they whisper to me. Your path is your own, just as mine is mine.
I do not disclose my email. I do not offer chat features. I do not run a Discord, a Facebook group, or a community forum. I used to offer tarot card readings, but that was many years ago, mostly only in person, rarely online, but that is not my path in my current life. I do not reply to comments on my blog, and I rarely even approve them. I don’t want conversation in the digital noise. I want connection in the quiet depths of the unseen world. On occasion, I may share an article by someone else, but only if I resonate with it fully, not to argue or criticize. I don’t generally leave comments elsewhere, because I don’t seek to debate, only to witness.
The way I walk is not lonely—it is solitary. I walk with the gods. I walk with the ancestors. I walk with the unseen folk of the forests and streams. I walk with a few rare kindred spirits I’ve met over the years—those who, like me, do not seek to organize or define the path of others, but who simply live it, quietly and reverently.
I do not think Norse Paganism should be a business. I do not think it should be a popularity contest. It should not be a war of words, or a race for prestige. It is a living mystery—raw, wild, and sacred. It belongs to no one. It is not found in clout, credentials, or influence, but in the whisper of a god in the stillness of the night. It is found in the feeling that something ancient is watching you with love and power as you pour mead to the earth. It is found in the goosebumps when you hear the wind speak your name.
So no, I do not lead. I do not follow. I do not gather crowds. I do not offer roles or responsibilities. I do not seek to be someone in the “community.” I am simply myself. A seeker. A mystic. A silent companion to the divine, walking alone on the wild, rune-marked path I was born to walk.
And to those who feel the same calling: I see you. From afar. And I raise my horn in quiet respect.
Hail the gods. Hail the spirits. Hail the ancestors.
And hail to those who walk in solitude.
“If You See the Buddha on the Road, Kill Him” — A Norse Pagan Reflection on the Ego of Religious Authority

Among Zen Buddhists, there is a well-known and often misunderstood saying: “If you see the Buddha on the road, kill him.” It is not a call to violence, but a deeply symbolic spiritual teaching—a challenge against attachment to external symbols, titles, and authorities that block one’s inner path to truth. This same insight echoes through all religions, including Norse Paganism.
At its heart, the Zen saying warns that if you think you’ve found the final, unquestionable embodiment of truth outside yourself—whether in a person, doctrine, tradition, or figure—you have actually strayed from the path. In Norse Pagan terms, this is like believing that one particular gothi (priest), rune master, or book holds all the answers from the gods and must never be questioned. But the gods of the North are not shackled to mortal forms or rigid dogmas. Odin does not demand blind obedience—he hung himself on Yggdrasil not to establish hierarchy, but to gain wisdom through suffering and inner vision.
In fact, the gods themselves in Norse lore are seekers. Odin seeks runes. Thor seeks justice. Freyja seeks love, beauty, and secret powers. They do not sit on a throne telling mortals exactly what to believe—they invite us to seek, risk, question, and grow. When we put a person, title, or tradition on a pedestal and say, “This is the only truth,” we stop listening to the gods and spirits speaking within and around us. That is the “Buddha on the road”—the misleading projection of enlightenment that we are told to kill.
To “kill the Buddha on the road” in Norse Pagan terms means to slay the illusion that your gods, your truth, or your spiritual power can be handed to you by someone else. It means casting down the false idea that divine truth comes from memorizing lore, quoting old sources, or following an unbending reconstructionist path. It’s not the lore that is wrong—many of our ancestors’ texts and poems hold deep wisdom—but the moment we treat them as fixed vessels of truth instead of living mystery, we betray the gods.
And this is true of all religions. Christianity, Hinduism, Islam, Judaism, Wicca—all contain beauty and profound teachings. But when any of them tell followers to obey without reflection, to follow a leader without question, to doubt their own inner knowing, they are placing a “Buddha on the road.” They replace the living divine with a rigid proxy of authority.
The true gods, spirits, and ancestors do not demand obedience to dogma—they invite relationship. They whisper through dreams, omens, intuition, synchronicity, and inner stirrings of the soul. They do not ask you to believe—they ask you to experience. To be changed.
So when a guru, priest, gothi, or spiritual influencer claims to have all the answers—when they tell you your experiences are invalid, or that questioning them is heresy—see them for what they are: a Buddha on the road. Bow, if you must—but then walk past. Or better yet, slay the illusion they represent.
For the gods are not found in rules. They are found in mystery. And mystery cannot be handed down—it must be lived.Thus, in Norse Paganism and in all sacred paths, the deepest truth is this: You are the road. You are the seeker. The gods walk beside you, not above you. Trust in that—and let no false Buddha block your way.
The Forked Path of Faith: Spirituality vs. Authority in Norse Pagan Practice

In Norse Paganism—as in any living spiritual tradition—there are two distinct ways people walk the path of belief. These two roads are not just different; they often stand in direct opposition. One path is spiritual, rooted in intuition, lived experience, and inner knowing. The other is authoritative, rooted in obedience to external figures and institutions who claim to speak for the divine.
The spiritual path honors the deep truth that each soul holds within it a sacred spark of the divine—a whisper of the gods, a knowing pulse of nature, a breath of the ancestors. It teaches that real connection to the divine cannot be dictated from a pulpit, a book, or a social hierarchy. Rather, it must be experienced directly, in the still moments of nature, in ritual, in dreams, in signs and omens, and most of all—in the trust one learns to place in their own inner wisdom.
In contrast, the authoritative path demands surrender not to the gods, but to human intermediaries—those who set themselves up as religious “experts” or “leaders.” It tells the seeker to distrust their own experiences, their own insights, their own callings. It replaces the living, breathing relationship with the gods and spirits with rules, structures, dogmas, and power dynamics. This path cuts the soul off from true divine communion and replaces it with hollow ritualism and borrowed belief.
True Norse Paganism is a spirituality of direct connection. It is not a religion meant to be mediated by rigid hierarchies. The gods of the North—Odin, Freyja, Thor, Frigg, the land-wights, the alfar and the disir, the honored ancestors—speak through wind and fire, through runes and dreams, through intuition and sudden knowing. They do not require a priestly class to speak for them. In fact, they often challenge such authority, favoring the lone wanderer, the seeress in the forest, the dreamer by the hearth, and the mystic who questions all.
When one truly walks the spiritual path, they come into communion with these beings. They begin to sense the will of the gods, not as a command, but as a harmonic resonance—a deep alignment that brings clarity, peace, and empowerment. They learn to distinguish divine guidance from delusion. The divine will never encourage hatred, cruelty, or fear-based control. Any voice—be it inner or outer—that urges destruction, separation, or harm is not a god, but a shadow. Such voices stem not from spiritual beings, but from unresolved guilt, fear, or trauma masquerading as truth.
The true divine calls us toward greater life, deeper wisdom, more compassionate strength, and more harmonious living. It may challenge us—but always to grow, not to dominate. It may ask us to face our fears—but only to become more whole.
In the Norse way, we remember that the gods are kin—not kings. They are not here to be obeyed blindly, but to be honored, conversed with, and learned from in a mutual relationship of respect. And most of all, they urge us to remember our own sacredness. To walk with courage. To trust the signs. To listen inward.
This is the soul of true religion: not control, but connection. Not hierarchy, but harmony. Not fear, but faith in the divine spark that dwells within and all around us.
Hail the gods. Hail the spirits. Hail the ancestors. And hail the sacred voice within you.
Why Strict Reconstructionist Norse Paganism Is Roleplay—Not a Living Spiritual Practice for Most

In the world of Norse Paganism, there’s a growing tension between two very different approaches: strict reconstructionism and modern spiritual adoption. At first glance, both claim to honor the gods and revive ancient ways—but scratch the surface, and their core intentions begin to sharply diverge.
Strict reconstructionists attempt to practice Norse Paganism as close as possible to how it was performed over a thousand years ago. Their goals are often academic and historical in nature—following archaeological records, scholarly interpretations, and surviving lore as strictly as possible. From the type of mead poured in ritual to the precise reconstruction of Iron Age clothing or burial rites, the focus is often on reenacting history with accuracy. In truth, this approach has more in common with living history roleplay than with a living, breathing, evolving spiritual path.
And that’s not inherently a bad thing. Some people do connect deeply with the spiritual dimension through historical reenactment. For them, reconstructing ancient rituals and customs may feel reverent and grounding. But it’s important to acknowledge that this is not the only, nor the most accessible, way to walk a spiritual path rooted in the Norse tradition.
Reconstructionism as Spiritual Roleplay
Let’s be clear—roleplay is not an insult. It is a legitimate form of expression. Historical reenactors often feel transformed when donning the clothes and manners of a bygone time. But that transformation is often theatrical and symbolic, not existential. The strictest forms of Norse Pagan reconstructionism fall into this category. They aren’t really meant to function as a religious practice that addresses modern human needs—emotional healing, personal growth, mystical connection, or guidance through trauma, anxiety, or love. They’re meant to recreate the past as closely as possible. In this, they function more like immersive theater or participatory anthropology.
To the average person seeking spiritual depth, comfort, insight, or healing, this “museum exhibit” approach offers little. It risks becoming a cage of historical fetishism, where one’s personal gnosis is dismissed because it didn’t come from a 13th-century Icelandic manuscript. This strict gatekeeping often stifles the organic, transformative nature of religion, which has always adapted to new cultural contexts throughout history.
The Need for a Living Spiritual Practice
Living spirituality is not frozen in time. It grows with the people who walk it. Modern Norse Paganism must be allowed to breathe—to evolve in the hearts of those who embrace it, integrating the ancient with the modern, the mythic with the mystical, and the historic with the intuitive. After all, the gods themselves are not dead cultural relics. They are living autonomous spiritual beings, beings of great power, meaning, and presence that people can still feel, dream of, and be transformed by today.
The modern world brings different needs than the Viking Age. We wrestle with urban alienation, ecological collapse, neurodivergence, spiritual longing in an age of disconnection, and a search for meaning beyond corporate modernity. We don’t need a historically perfect blot in a longhouse to find sacredness—we need connection, authenticity, and soul-level truth.
A living Norse Pagan practice honors the spirit of the old ways without being enslaved to their letter. It welcomes offerings from today’s world: meditation, trancework, modern rituals, cross-cultural influences, even VR temple spaces or AI rune readings—if they bring the seeker closer to the divine. It dares to believe that Odin, Freyja, and the spirits of the land are not frozen in the Viking Age, but walk beside us now, adapting with us.
There’s Room for Both—But Let’s Be Honest About What They Are
There is nothing wrong with practicing Norse Paganism as living-history roleplay. It can be fun, educational, and even meaningful. But it should not be confused with a universal path to spiritual transformation. Most people today are not looking for perfect historical reenactment—they are looking for purpose, power, belonging, and divine connection. That calls for something alive, not just accurate.
In the end, both paths—strict reconstruction and adaptive spirituality—have their place. But for the majority of spiritual seekers, the gods do not demand authenticity to the 10th century. They ask for sincerity of the heart, integrity of intent, and the courage to meet them here and now, in the sacred space of this age.
