The Mythology of Seiðr: Norse Witchcraft and the Threads of Fate

When we speak of Seiðr (pronounced “sayth-er” or “seder”), we enter a current of magic that is as old as the sagas and as living as the breath of the witch today. Seiðr is not a trick of charms or surface enchantments, but a deep art of weaving, of calling, of altering the strands of destiny itself. It is the craft of the völva, the seeress who walks between the worlds, and the heritage of gods who dared to shape fate with their own hands.

To explore Seiðr is to trace its roots through myth, its practice through history, and its spirit into the present — a journey through prophecy, trance, and the eternal web of wyrd.

The Origins of Seiðr

Seiðr is first and foremost a weaving magic — a working of threads, energies, and destiny. Unlike simple charms or folk remedies, Seiðr was understood as a shamanic art: a journey into other realms, where the witch touched the deep structure of reality.

At its heart is the wyrd, the great web that holds all being together. Each life is a thread. Each choice is a knot. The past, present, and future flow across it like vibrations along a loom. The practitioner of Seiðr does not merely glimpse this web — they touch it, pluck it, twist it, and sometimes bind it.

Freyja and Odin: The Keepers of Seiðr

In the mythology, Freyja of the Vanir is the first mistress of Seiðr. She is goddess of beauty, love, and desire, but also of battle, death, and the deepest witchcraft. From her comes the lore of prophecy, spellbinding, and fate-weaving. It was Freyja who taught Seiðr to the Æsir gods of Asgard, sharing her Vanir-born art across divine tribes.

Odin, Allfather and god of wisdom, became its most devoted student. For him, Seiðr was not beneath dignity — though many in Norse society scorned it as unmanly. Its practice was associated with ergi (a term implying unmanliness, passivity, or shame). But Odin, hungry for power and knowledge, embraced it nonetheless. He learned from Freyja, and in doing so broke the boundaries of gendered expectation, embodying Seiðr as a path of sovereignty rather than shame.

This duality — Freyja’s fierce witchcraft and Odin’s transgressive pursuit of it — marks Seiðr as a power that transcends the ordinary divisions of culture. It is a craft of liminality, for those willing to stand between worlds.

The Völva: Carriers of Seiðr

Among mortals, Seiðr was most famously practised by the völva (plural: völur), the wandering wise women and seeresses of the old North.

The völva was at once feared and revered. She carried a seiðstafr (staff of power), often adorned with carvings or ironwork, and wore cloaks lined with animal skins, feathers, or symbolic tokens. In the sagas, her presence was awe-inspiring. Communities would invite her to speak prophecy, to bless fields, or to divine the outcomes of battles.

The Völuspá (“Prophecy of the Seeress”), one of the most haunting poems of the Poetic Edda, recounts Odin summoning a dead völva from her grave to reveal the fate of gods and men at Ragnarök. Even in death, her voice carried cosmic truth. This shows the veneration of the völva’s role — she was the mouthpiece of fate itself.

How Seiðr Was Practised

Though details vary, sources describe Seiðr as involving:

• Trance and Altered States: Often entered through chanting (galdr), drumming, rocking, or rhythmic movement.

• Spirit Calling: Inviting gods, land-wights, or ancestors to lend wisdom or power.

• Fate-Weaving: Binding or loosening threads of destiny — healing some, cursing others.

• Prophecy: Peering into past, present, and future within the wyrd.

• Energetic Influence: Sending illness, stirring desire, or blessing prosperity.

Seiðr rituals could be communal. The völva would mount the seiðhjallr (a high platform or sacred seat), while women around her sang varðlokkur — spirit-summoning chants that helped open the path to the unseen.

The Web of Wyrd

At the centre of Seiðr lies the wyrd — the living web that connects all beings, across all time. Unlike a fixed destiny carved in stone, wyrd is woven and rewoven with every action, thought, and intention. Past, present, and future interlace here, much as the Norns weave at the roots of Yggdrasil.

To practise Seiðr is to reach into this fabric, to feel its threads, and to alter them with care. This is why Seiðr demands responsibility. Every action ripples outward. Every knot ties many lives. The Seiðr-worker must weigh their choices deeply.

Seiðr and the Question of Gender

Seiðr was often described in the sagas as ergi — a shameful, effeminate practice when performed by men. This taboo likely arose from its association with receptivity, trance, and spirit-possession, which clashed with the warrior ideals of Norse masculinity.

Yet Odin himself practised it. His embrace of Seiðr, despite ridicule, speaks volumes about its importance. For the gods, as for mortals, wisdom was worth transgression.

This tension reveals Seiðr as a liminal art — neither male nor female, but flowing across boundaries. It belonged to the bold, the outcast, the seer who dared to walk beyond the lines of custom.

Seiðr in Myth and Saga

The sagas offer glimpses of Seiðr at work:

• In the Saga of Erik the Red, a völva named Thorbjorg Lítilvölva is invited to a feast to perform Seiðr. She sits upon the high seat, staff in hand, while women sing the varðlokkur. She foretells the harvest and the coming hardships, her words shaping the community’s path.

• In the Ynglinga Saga, Odin is said to use Seiðr to know the fate of men, to curse enemies with misfortune, and to bless his own kin with victory.

• In the Völuspá, the greatest völva speaks not to mortals but to Odin himself, telling him of Ragnarök and the end of the gods.

These stories reveal Seiðr as a force entwined with prophecy, fate, and power — feared and revered in equal measure.

Modern Paths of Seiðr

Today, Seiðr is being revived by witches, heathens, and spirit-workers who feel its call. While we cannot recreate every detail of ancient practice, its essence endures:

• Trance journeys into spirit realms.

• Rune work, tied to the mysteries Odin won.

• Thread magic, weaving cords to bind or release fate.

• Ancestor communion, echoing the völva’s counsel.

• Spirit songs, chanting or drumming to open the way.

For the modern völva, Seiðr is less about strict reconstruction and more about honouring the spirit of the craft — prophecy, fate-weaving, and spirit-walking.

A Seiðr-Inspired Working

1. Prepare your space: Create a simple altar with a staff, a bowl of water (the Well of Urd), and a candle for the light of vision.

2. Chant or drum: Use rhythm to shift into trance.

3. Focus on the wyrd: Visualise threads of light stretching in every direction. See your own thread, and how it interlaces with others.

4. Work your intention: Tie a cord with knots — one to honour the past, one to strengthen the present, one to invite the future.

5. Close with offering: Pour water to the roots of a tree, giving thanks to Freyja, Odin, and the Norns.

Seiðr in a Wider Context: Parallels Across Cultures

Seiðr belongs uniquely to the Norse world, yet its core themes echo practices found across cultures. When we compare it to other traditions, a pattern emerges: the weaving of fate, the journey into trance, and the role of the seer as mediator between human and divine.

• The Greek Oracles: At Delphi, the Pythia entered trance, inhaling vapours from the earth and speaking prophecies from Apollo. Like the völva, she was both respected and feared, her words shaping the destiny of kings and nations.

• The Moirai (Greek Fates): Clotho spun, Lachesis measured, and Atropos cut the thread of life — weaving destiny much as the Norns shaped wyrd. Seiðr, too, drew upon this web of fate, with the völva serving as interpreter of its threads.

• Siberian Shamanism: In Siberia and other circumpolar regions, shamans enter trance through drumming, song, and ecstatic journeying. They heal, divine, and mediate with spirits, echoing the role of the völva who mounts the seiðhjallr to enter altered states and commune with the unseen.

• Celtic Druids and Bards: While Druids are remembered as priests and judges, it was often the bardic seer or poet who entered inspired trance (imbas). Through ecstatic song, they foretold and wove the hidden truths of fate.

The comparison shows that Seiðr is part of a global current of fate-weaving traditions. What makes it distinct is its deep entanglement with wyrd — a web not fixed but living, constantly shifting with every choice.

Runic Correspondences in Seiðr

The runes are inseparable from Seiðr. Odin’s sacrifice upon Yggdrasil — hanging nine nights, pierced by his own spear — was a Seiðr-like initiation, an ordeal for visionary knowledge. The Norns themselves carve runes into the tree of life. To work Seiðr today is often to weave runes into the practice.

Some runes resonate especially with Seiðr:

• ᚠ (Fehu): Wealth, energy, exchange — the flow of threads in motion. Used in Seiðr to strengthen vitality or release what is bound.

• ᚱ (Raido): Journey, path, rhythm — linked to trance work, drumming, and the seer’s spiritual journey.

• ᚢ (Uruz): Strength, raw power — ancestral force drawn into the working.

• ᚦ (Thurisaz): Catalyst, breakthrough — dangerous but potent, used to shift the weave suddenly.

• ᛃ (Jera): Cycles, harvest — honouring the inevitability of time within wyrd.

• ᛇ (Eiwaz): The axis of Yggdrasil — initiation, death-and-rebirth, the shamanic path.

• ᛈ (Perthro): Mystery, chance, fate — the rune of wyrd itself, embodying the unseen threads.

• ᛉ (Algiz): Protection, connection to spirits — invoked to safeguard journeys through trance.

• ᛞ (Dagaz): Breakthrough, dawn — the moment when prophecy reveals itself.

A Seiðr-worker may carve or trace runes upon their staff, chant their names as galdr during trance, or cast them as a means of divination while seated in the ritual high seat. For me personally i have jewellery with Runes on it or i draw the runes on my arm before going to work, most of the time it will be the return to sender bindrune, Algiz, Fehu, Jera and Sowilo as well as a bindrune for protection.

Seasons and Sacred Timing of Seiðr

Seiðr is a weaving art, and as such, it resonates with turning points in time. The old Norse worldview was cyclical, marked by seasonal shifts and cosmic thresholds. To practise Seiðr in alignment with these moments is to step into the living wyrd of the world itself.

• Winter Solstice (Jól): The longest night, when the threads of time turn. A potent moment for prophecy and ancestor communion, honouring the rebirth of the sun.

• Spring Equinox: Balance of light and dark. A time to weave new beginnings, blessings for growth, and fertility into the tapestry.

• Summer Solstice: Height of light and vitality. Seiðr at this time often focuses on strength, protection, and the empowerment of communities.

• Autumn Equinox: Time of harvest and reckoning. Here the völva might work Seiðr to understand the fruits of the year’s actions, to bless the stored harvest, or to foresee the coming winter.

• Dark Moon Nights: Particularly powerful for Seiðr trance, as the moonless sky reflects the mystery of the unseen web.

• Life Thresholds: Births, deaths, marriages, and oaths were traditional times to call upon Seiðr. These moments, when the weave shifts, open the door to prophetic insight.

The Seiðr-worker is, above all, a keeper of thresholds — between past and future, life and death, human and divine. Timing the work to liminal seasons magnifies its potency.

Closing Reflection

Seiðr is not a relic. It is a living current that flows through time, from Freyja’s first songs to the völva’s staff, from Odin’s sacrifice to the chants of modern witches. It is a craft of weaving, prophecy, and fate — demanding courage, discipline, and humility.

Through comparisons with oracles and shamans, we see that Seiðr belongs to a universal human hunger: to know the weave of existence. Through runes, we find symbols to carve and sing into the wyrd. Through seasons and thresholds, we discover when the loom is most alive.

Seiðr is not only about foretelling, nor only about changing fate. It is about stepping into the web consciously, feeling the strands that bind us all, and weaving with intention. To walk this path is to echo the Norns themselves — to see the threads of time and dare to touch them.