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What Are Runes?
Runes are more than letters.
They’re marks from a time when writing was sacred—when every carved line carried intention, memory, power.
The Younger Futhark was the script of the Viking Age.
It’s what you’ll find on standing stones and grave goods, on blades buried with warriors and amulets worn by travelers. This was the working alphabet of Old Norse.
The Elder Futhark came earlier.
Its sounds are older, broader. Not used to write Old Norse—but it lingers for another reason. It speaks well to us now. Especially in divination, trancework, and seiðr.
When the thread pulls you toward mystery, this is the one that tends to answer.
Each rune holds:
Other Names – What it was called across time and tongue
Literal Meaning – The object or concept at its root
God Associations – Deities tied to its essence
Symbolism – What it stirs when cast or called upon
Old Rune Poem – A line remembered from the past, carved in verse
And if you’re wondering if they still speak—
they do.
Some days it’s a whisper. Some days it’s a crack of thunder. But they speak.
If you know how to listen.
Because these weren’t made to impress.
They were made to mark.
To name.
To protect.
To guide.
When you draw a rune, you are not just pulling a symbol.
You are reaching back into bone and breath and blood memory.
And they’ll meet you there.
The Younger Futhark
The Runes of the Northmen
This is the script of the Viking Age.
Slimmed down from the Elder set. Sharpened. Spoken by the people of the longships and the stave churches.
The Younger Futhark wasn’t used for magic first.
It was used to write.
To leave names behind. To stake claims. To carve warnings. To remember the dead.
You’ll find it on standing stones and grave markers, sword hilts and silver brooches.
It was practical, powerful, and alive in the everyday.
But like all things in the old world-
even what was practical carried weight.
Every carved rune still echoed its root.
Still called on something deeper.
Still knew how to open a path.
If you read them now, read them like they matter.
Because to the ones who carved them - they did.
REIÐ Other names: Raidho, Reidh, Rad Literal meaning: Ride, journey, wheel Associated gods: Thor, Freyr, possibly Móði and Magni *Rune of sacred rhythm and road Symbolism: This is not just a ride. This is the path that remembers you. The rhythm of hoofbeats that echo across the Nine Worlds. The circle that turns and returns—again and again. Reið is the rune of movement, yes—but not chaos. It’s motion with meaning. Pilgrimage. Sacred travel. The pulling of fate behind a cartwheel. It marks a time when you're not just drifting—you are carried. By duty. By desire. By the thread itself. In old tales, a reið wasn’t just transport. It could mean the chariot of a god. It could mean the last ride before death. It could mean a procession of something sacred being moved across land. When this rune shows up, it asks: Where are you going that your spirit already knows? What path are you resisting that’s already begun? Are you steering, or are you being steered? Reið doesn’t promise comfort. But it does promise progress. And sometimes the wildest roads lead you home. From the Old Norwegian Rune Poem (Jackson Crawford translation): “Ride is said to be the worst thing for horses; Reginn forged the finest sword.” Even the best journeys leave a mark. Even the finest blade must be carried. So let the wheel turn. Let the path unfold.
NAUÐR Other names: Nauthiz, Naudiz, Nyd Literal meaning: Need. Necessity. Constraint. Associated gods: Nornir, Frigg, Loki (in his clever desperation), perhaps even Hel Rune of friction, fate-pressure, soul-forging Symbolism: This is the rubbing of sticks to spark a fire. The tension before a choice. The hunger that teaches you what you really are. Nauðr is the knot in the gut. The moment before surrender. The space between what you want and what the thread will give you. It’s uncomfortable. It’s frustrating. And it is sacred. Because Nauðr does not show up to punish. It shows up to sharpen. To press you into clarity. Old stories say need can shape destiny. That a woman in true need can bend the world. That a god in desperation can birth new magic. That fire born of friction burns hotter than any match. When this rune is cast, it’s not a no. It’s a not yet. A not this way. A not until you know what it costs. But oh, what it can give. From the Old Norwegian Rune Poem (Jackson Crawford translation): “Need causes grief in the heart; yet it is a help and a healing to everyone, if he heeds it soon enough.” If you’re holding Nauðr right now, ask yourself— What truth is pressing you from the inside out? What longing won’t let you lie to yourself anymore? Sometimes, the fire doesn’t come until we’ve worn our hands raw. But when it comes? It is yours. It is real. And it was always waiting to be lit.
SÓL Other names: Sowilo, Sigel Literal meaning: Sun Associated gods: Sól (the sun goddess), sometimes linked to Baldr Rune of clarity, life-force, triumph, sacred direction Symbolism: Sól is not just the sun in the sky. She is the one who pulls it forward. A goddess in her own right, driving her radiant chariot across the heavens even as the wolf Sköll chases her down. This rune does not promise safety. It promises motion. When Sól appears, it is a signal: You are seen. You are moving. You are lit from within. She is the light that pierces fog. The pulse that says, keep going. She brings warmth, yes—but also clarity. There is no hiding in her glow. From the Old Norwegian Rune Poem (Jackson Crawford translation): “Sun is the light of the world; I bow to the holy judgment.” Sól lights the path—but she does not walk it for you. Her gift is revelation. What you do with it is yours. To carry this rune is to burn. To become visible. To walk without shadow even when others cower in the dark. When you are lost, Sól is not comfort. She is command. Rise. Act. Choose. The road is lit. Now walk.
MADR Other Names: Mannaz, Man Literal Meaning: Human / Man God Associations: Heimdallr (who gifted mankind with awareness), Óðin (as Allfather) Symbolism: The self reflected in others. Kinship, humanity, legacy. MANN is the rune of people—not as individuals, but as part of a living thread. It reminds you that your actions echo through the clan, the village, the bloodline. Old Norwegian Rune Poem: “Maðr er moldar auki; mikill er grœip á hauki.” “Man is an addition to earth; a great claw is on the hawk.” You are not alone in your shaping.
KAUN Other names: Kaunan, Kenaz, Kēn Literal meaning: Ulcer, torch, boil, sore Associated gods: Eir, Loki, possibly Mimir *Rune of pain, illumination, and hidden knowing Symbolism: This is the rune of the burning wound. Not the clean cut of a blade— but the kind that festers. The kind that teaches. Kaun is not comfortable. But it is sacred. It speaks of the kind of fire that forces you to change. Sometimes it’s grief. Sometimes it’s illness. Sometimes it’s that aching in your gut that says something’s wrong—even when everyone else smiles and says it’s fine. This rune whispers: What have you survived that still lives in your body? What has scarred you so deeply that it became your sight? And what fire still burns behind your eyes when the world is quiet? In other interpretations, Kaun is a torch— a light in the dark lit by what you've lost and kept burning by what you still believe. It is also connected to runic healing— the hidden knowledge of herbs, hands, and heat. A rune Eir would carry. A rune the old ones might draw over wounds, not to erase them— but to name them. To honor what they taught. From the Old Norwegian Rune Poem (Jackson Crawford translation): “Ulcer is fatal to children; death makes a corpse pale.” This is blunt. But it’s real. Pain has a cost. But it also has a truth. Let Kaun be the place where pain becomes power. Where the wound stops leaking and starts glowing. Where your suffering is not your shame— but your fire.
ÍSS Other names: Isa, Isaz, Is Literal meaning: Ice Associated gods: Rán, Skaði, possibly Hel Rune of stillness, pause, clarity through cold restraint Symbolism: Íss is the surface of the frozen lake— beautiful, smooth, silent. But underneath? Stillness hides the deep. This rune brings halt. Not as punishment, but as preservation. When the body freezes, blood slows. When the path is unclear, ice makes you wait. Íss isn’t here to move you forward. It’s here to keep you from falling through. There is no shortcut. No quick melt. But ice is not death. In Norse lands, ice was a season— not an end, but a rhythm. It kept food stored. Kept travelers from rushing into danger. Held what was sacred until it could bloom again. When this rune appears, stop trying to force the thaw. Instead— listen. rest. see clearly. Because what ice gives is vision. Reflections. Truths made still enough to see. From the Old Norwegian Rune Poem (Jackson Crawford translation): “Ice is the rind of the river, and a roof of the waves, and a danger for fey men.” Íss is the mirror. The boundary. The hush before the next breath. Hold it long enough, and you’ll understand— Not all stillness is absence. Some is survival. Some is sight.
TÝR Other names: Tiwaz, Teiwaz Literal meaning: Honor, Law, the god Týr Associated gods: Týr (god of justice, sacrifice, and war) Rune of oathkeeping, moral courage, sacrifice, sacred law Symbolism: Týr is the one who placed his hand in the wolf’s mouth because the gods gave their word. He knew what would happen. He offered it anyway. This rune carves deep. It is not the easy path. It is the one that demands integrity even when no one is watching even when you lose something for keeping your vow. Týr is the law behind the law. Not rules on paper—but the sacred agreements you make with yourself, your kin, your gods. When this rune comes, ask yourself: Where am I flinching from the cost of my own truth? Týr does not punish. He reminds. Reminds you that honor is not always rewarded. But it is always seen. From the Old Norwegian Rune Poem (Jackson Crawford translation): “Týr is a one-handed god; often has the smith to blow.” Týr’s story is not pretty. It is not triumphant. But it is clean. And it echoes. To carry this rune is to make peace with the loss that comes with integrity. To let your wounds become witnesses. To know that sacrifice is not weakness. It is what makes the gods listen.
LÖGR Other Names: Laguz, Lagu Literal Meaning: Water God Associations: Njörðr, Rán, the spirits below the surface Symbolism: Emotion. Mystery. Movement beneath stillness. LÖGR is a reminder that nothing stays as it is. Waters shift. Feelings flood. What lies buried may rise. It speaks to dreamers and drowners alike. Surrender—but learn to swim. Old Norwegian Rune Poem: “Lǫgr er, fællr ór fjalle foss; en gull ero nosser.” “Water is what falls from the mountain; and gold are the ornaments.” Even beauty can pull you under.
HAGALL Other names: Hagalaz, Hagallaz, Hægl Literal meaning: Hail Associated gods: Hel, Skadi, Thor (in his harsher face) *Rune of disruption, cleansing, sacred destruction Symbolism: Hagall doesn’t ask permission. It strikes. A hard rune. A necessary rune. The hailstorm that rips the leaves from your life— so something truer can take root. You don’t carry Hagall to feel safe. You carry it when you’re ready for what safety has cost you. It is winter’s wrath. The avalanche. The cracked bone that heals back stronger. But it’s also the turning. Because hail melts. Because destruction clears. Because after the storm, the silence feels holy. This rune is often feared. But in the old ways, to be broken was not to be cursed. It was to be changed. Reforged. Hagall shows up when the thread is tangled and stubborn. When something in your life is too rigid, too false, too rotted to be kept. And so it falls. From the Old Norwegian Rune Poem (Jackson Crawford translation): “Hail is the coldest of grains; Christ shaped the world in the old days.” Now, we are not bound by the later Christian gloss—but the line still echoes. Even the coldest strike can shape something divine. Even the sharpest fall can serve the thread. So when you feel the storm rising— when everything starts to break— ask yourself: What part of you is worth saving, no matter what gets stripped away? Let Hagall take what was never really yours. And may what remains… be real.
ÁR Other names: Jera, Ar, Ger Literal meaning: Year, Harvest Associated gods: Freyja, Freyr Rune of cycles, reward, timing, the sacred turn of the wheel Symbolism: Ár is the promise made good. It’s the fruit heavy on the branch, the grain bending toward the sickle, the moment when effort meets return. This is not a gift from nowhere. Ár follows the sowing. It waits out the frost, the rot, the ruin. And still—it ripens. To receive this rune is to be reminded: You earned this. You bled for it. You endured. In a world shaped by seasons, the Norse knew you do not control the wheel— but you can dance with it. Ár does not rush. It comes in its time. It teaches you to tend the field, trust the slow work, and know that even what seems fallow is part of the yield. From the Old Norwegian Rune Poem (Jackson Crawford translation): “Plenty is a boon to men; I say that Frodi was generous.” Froði, the peace-king, ruled during a time of abundance. But peace does not mean passivity. It means knowing when to lay the blade down and gather what the earth has given. Ár is the full basket. The reward that proves the labor was not in vain. It is also the reminder: this, too, will pass. So hold it with gratitude. Feast. Rest. Then return to the soil. The wheel turns again.
BJARKAN Other Names: Berkano, Beorc Literal Meaning: Birch God Associations: Frigg, Eir, earth goddesses Symbolism: Birth. Shelter. Soft power. Bjarkan is the grove and the gate. It protects what’s growing. It invites what wants to live. Feminine force that bends but never breaks. It doesn’t roar—but it survives. Old Norwegian Rune Poem: “Bjarkan er laufgrœnstr lima; Loki bar flærða tíma.” “Birch is the leafiest branch; Loki brought the time of deceit.” Growth is not always gentle.
ÝR Other Names: Eiwaz, Ior Literal Meaning: Yew Tree / Bow God Associations: Hel, the Norns, death-dealing spirits Symbolism: Death that is not an end. The yew doesn’t rot—it bends time. ÝR is the bow and the arrow. It’s the long view. It teaches endurance, silent power, and sacred endings. Often misunderstood, always vital. Old Norwegian Rune Poem: “Ýr er vetrgrœnn viðr; en vakr lendi.” “Yew is the greenest tree in winter; a strong bow.” Some things live beyond the season.
The Elder Futhark
The runes that came before the Vikings.
These weren’t carved into battle axes or etched on graves.
They were inscribed into bone and stone, long before the Norse tongue fully took shape.
Their lines are older. Wider. Their meanings... deeper.
The Elder Futhark is the first known runic alphabet, used across Germanic Europe before the rise of the Old Norse language.
Roughly dating from the 2nd to 8th centuries, it holds 24 runes—eight more than the Younger Futhark that followed.
Why does that matter?
Because while the Younger Futhark carried fewer sounds—streamlined for speech and inscription—the Elder holds a broader soul-map.
Its shapes weren’t just letters. They were forces. Portals. Threads through time.
We don’t use Elder Futhark to write Old Norse.
We use it for something else.
Divination. Seiðr. Soul-work.
When people today reach for runes to seek insight or stir magic, this is the set they often choose.
Not because it’s newer—but because it reaches further.
Each rune still speaks.
Each one still waits.
And here, we’ll walk them one by one.
Not alphabetically. Not mechanically.
But as if we’re sitting by the fire again
And the old ones are whispering their names.
Fehu ᚠ Other Names: Fé (Old Norse), Feoh (Old English) Literal Meaning: Cattle God Associations: Freyr, Freyja Element: Earth and Fire Symbolism: Fehu is wealth in its oldest form—livestock, land, sustenance. But it’s not just what you have. It’s how it moves. Fehu is mobile wealth, the kind that flows, feeds, breeds, multiplies. It asks: Are you hoarding or feeding the future? It carries both gain and loss in its shape—because true wealth must be tended or it turns. This is the rune of beginnings. Of trade, growth, and the spark of creative fire. It speaks to fertility, movement, ownership—and the responsibility that comes with it. From the Old Norwegian Rune Poem: “Fé vældr frænda róge; føðesk ulfr í skóge.” “Wealth causes strife among kin; the wolf is born in the forest.” Whispers from the Thread: This rune hums loud when the thread pulls you toward making, not just dreaming. When you feel something coming to life—and it needs your hands to shape it. It’s the pull to feed the fire or walk away from what no longer feeds you.
Raidō ᚱ Other Names: Reid (Old Norse), Raidō (Proto-Germanic), Rad (Old English) Literal Meaning: Ride. Journey. Wagon. God Associations: Thor, Forseti, possibly Óðinn in wanderer form Element: Air + Movement Symbolism: Raidō is the path taken and the one unfolding. It is motion guided by meaning—travel with purpose. Whether by cart, hoof, foot, or fate, this rune speaks of journeys that transform. Not all roads are physical. Some are spirals through the soul. Riding out can mean claiming freedom, but also responsibility. When Raidō is drawn, ask: What is moving you? And what do you move toward? This is the rune of rituals done right. Of walking your talk. Of staying the course even when it turns. From the Old Norwegian Rune Poem: “Reið kveða rossom væsta; reginn sló þa brodda.” “Riding they say is worst for horses; the gods made the bridle.” Whispers from the Thread: This one comes when I’m walking into something I can’t quite name. It doesn’t promise ease. But it does promise motion. And motion stirs the thread.
Gebo ᚷ Other Names: Gifu, Gebu Literal Meaning: Gift God Associations: Gefjon, Freyr, Freyja, Óðin (as giver of breath and sacrifice) Element: Air Symbolism: Gebo is balance through exchange. A gift given is a bond formed. This is the rune of sacred reciprocity—not trade, not obligation, but that deep knowing that giving must be met with giving, or else something goes out of alignment. It speaks of partnership, hospitality, sacrifice, and love. Of what it means to be in right relation—whether with kin, with gods, or with yourself. In seiðr, this rune reminds us: Nothing is free. And that’s not a burden—it’s a blessing. When both sides offer, the thread strengthens. From the Old Norwegian Rune Poem: There is no stanza for Gebo in the Norwegian poem—because Younger Futhark condensed the Elder’s 24 runes to 16. This rune was absorbed and its unique sound lost. But its meaning remains. You’ll find it carved into wedding bands, altar offerings, and bindings made with love. Whispers from the Thread: If you’re drawing this rune, ask yourself— What have you offered? And what are you ready to receive?
Perthro ᛈ Other Names: Pertho, Peorth, Pertra Literal Meaning: Dice Cup, Lot-Casting Vessel God Associations: Frigg, Norns Element: Mystery / Fate Symbolism: Perthro is the rune of the unknown—the sealed well, the cast lots, the hidden womb where things are becoming. It does not reveal. It suggests. This is not the rune of answers. It is the rune of what lies beneath—the parts of fate not yet unspooled. It is the deep breath before truth arrives. Associated with games of chance, childbirth, and the Norns, this rune speaks to both play and peril. Sometimes you’re rolling dice. Sometimes you’re being born again. Either way, you won’t be the same. From the Old Norwegian Rune Poem: (There is no preserved stanza for Perthro in the Norwegian Rune Poem, as it is absent from the Younger Futhark. Interpretations are based on other sources.) Whispers from the Thread: Not every door opens when you knock. Some open when you surrender.
Othala ᛟ Other Names: Othala, Othel, Ōþila Literal Meaning: Ancestral land, inheritance God Associations: Odin, ancestral spirits Element: Lineage / Legacy / Boundaries Symbolism: Othala is the home you carry in your blood. Not the house you were raised in—but the one that raised your name. This rune holds inheritance, both tangible and spiritual. It speaks of land kept through generations, traditions passed through hands, and burdens buried deep in the bone. To draw Othala is to be reminded: You are not rootless. Even when you wander, the thread is tied behind you. It can signal the claiming of what is yours— or the releasing of what is not. It may ask you to look at what you’ve inherited. And decide what ends with you. From the Old Norwegian Rune Poem: (No verse survives in the Norwegian poem. Anglo-Saxon poem reads: "An estate is dear to everyone, if he can enjoy there in his house whatever is right and fitting.") Whispers from the Thread: The land remembers. So do your bones. The question is— what will you keep, and what will you lay down?
Sowilo ᛋ Other Names: Sól, Sigel Literal Meaning: Sun God Associations: Sól (the Sun goddess), sometimes Baldur Element: Victory / Illumination Symbolism: Sowilo is radiance without apology. The light that cuts through fog. The flame that refuses to die. It doesn’t beg for clarity—it burns until it finds it. Victory, not through battle, but through becoming impossible to ignore. When Sowilo shows up, something is about to shine. Truth. Vision. Purpose. But it’s not always gentle. Like the summer sun at its peak, Sowilo can scorch. It strips away illusion and leaves you bare. And in that exposure—you see who you really are. This rune is a turning point in any cast. A signal fire. A flare. A yes that echoes back from the gods. From the Old Norwegian Rune Poem: (Sowilo does not appear in the Norwegian poem, but we honor its presence through symbolic tradition.) Whispers from the Thread: Not every torch is handed to you. Some you become.
Laguz ᛚ Other Names: Lagu, Laukaz Literal Meaning: Water, Lake, Flow God Associations: Njörðr, Rán, Nerthus Element: Emotion / Intuition / Movement Symbolism: Laguz is the rune of deep waters—of what moves beneath the surface. It is the unseen current, the pull of tide and time, the flow that cannot be forced. To draw Laguz is to be invited into surrender. Not as weakness, but as wisdom. It teaches that not all paths are forged by fire—some are carved by listening. To the land. To the dream. To what your body already knows. It governs emotion, intuition, and the sacred trust of letting go. It is also the rune of the völva, the seeress who rides the current between worlds. From the Old Norwegian Rune Poem: (Laguz is not preserved in the surviving Norwegian poem.) Whispers from the Thread: You don’t have to know where it leads. Only that you are meant to follow.
Ansuz ᚨ Other Names: Áss, Ansur, Oss Literal Meaning: God, ancestral spirit, mouth God Associations: Odin, ancestral guides Element: Speech / Wisdom / Breath Symbolism: Ansuz is the breath before the word. The divine whisper that becomes language. This rune carries the voice of the gods—not as thunder, but as teaching. It speaks of wisdom passed through generations, of inspired speech, of learning to listen beneath what’s said. To draw Ansuz is to be invited into a deeper conversation. One with the unseen. With the old ones. With your own becoming. It can mark divine inspiration. Or a test of what’s true. From the Old Norwegian Rune Poem: “River mouth is where water falls into the sea; but the river bed is the way of most journeys.” Whispers from the Thread: If your voice carried the memory of your gods— what would you say?
Uruz ᚢ Other Names: Úr (Old Norse), Ur (Old English) Literal Meaning: Aurochs — the wild, ancient ox God Associations: Thor, Ullr Element: Earth Symbolism: Uruz is raw power. Not the kind that rules halls—but the kind that breaks them down. It is endurance. Vitality. The primal push of life through challenge. Uruz doesn’t whisper. It tests. You may meet it when your strength is all you have left. You may carry it in your bones without knowing. This is the rune of wild nature—of the body, of instinct, of blood memory. It speaks to healing through hardship, and wisdom found only in sweat. From the Old Norwegian Rune Poem: “Úr er af illu jarne; opt hjeypr hreinn á hjarne.” “Slag comes from poor iron; the reindeer runs often on snow.” Whispers from the Thread: This one does not come to bless. It comes to build. If it’s at your door, it’s asking what you’re made of. And the only answer is to stand up and show it.
Kaunan ᚲ Other Names: Kaun, Kenaz, Cen Literal Meaning: Ulcer. Torch. Sore. God Associations: Loki, Surtr, Brisingamen's forge (by extension, Freyja) Element: Fire Symbolism: Kaunan is a paradox. It is fire that burns and fire that reveals. The wound and the flame that lights the wound. This is the rune of inner pain, initiation, and illumination—of the teacher you never asked for, but can’t forget. It speaks to sickness that breaks something open. A darkness that has to be seen. Not to harm—but to heal through truth. Sometimes Kaunan means you’re carrying something festering. Other times, it means you’ve lit the torch and are ready to descend. From the Old Norwegian Rune Poem: “Kaun er barna bǫlvan; bóla eg veit mestor.” “Ulcer is fatal to children; I know it to be a terrible sore.” Whispers from the Thread: This one doesn’t lie. It comes like a fever, a flush, a reckoning. But it’s never just the wound. It’s also what you do after.
Nauthiz ᚾ Other Names: Nauðr, Nyd Literal Meaning: Need, Necessity, Constraint God Associations: Skuld (one of the Norns), Loki Element: Fire under pressure Symbolism: Nauthiz is the grinding stone. The tight place. The hunger that sharpens the will. It does not destroy—it refines. It reveals what you are willing to endure. Or not. This rune speaks of delays, restriction, and unmet longing. But it also carries the alchemical fire that tempers the soul. It’s the ember you carry when the wind is against you. The hunger that becomes fuel. When Nauthiz appears in divination or seiðr, look to what you have been forced to learn. Or what still must be faced. From the Old Norwegian Rune Poem: Nauðr gerer næppa kosti; nøktan þarf hann at bæta. “Need makes for a difficult situation; the naked must be clothed.” Whispers from the Thread: Some lessons only come when the feast is gone and the fire is low. This rune does not punish—it calls. To resourcefulness. To clarity. To the inner forge that does not need comfort to burn.
Algiz ᛉ Other Names: Elhaz, Eolh Literal Meaning: Elk, Protective Hand, Antler God Associations: Heimdallr, the Valkyries Element: Protection / Spirit Symbolism: Algiz is the raised antler, the open palm, the sharp warning that says—not here. It is the guardian rune, the shield raised in both blessing and defense. When you draw it, something stands with you. Heimdallr on the watchtower. A mother at the threshold. Your own hamingja rising like a spear. In ritual, Algiz is often called before stepping into the unseen. It forms the circle. It asks the spirits to watch, but it also tells them where the line is. It protects, yes. But more than that—it reminds you that you are not alone. From the Old Norwegian Rune Poem: (This rune is not included in the Younger Futhark or the Norwegian poem. Most meaning comes from the Anglo-Saxon tradition.) Whispers from the Thread: Not all guardians carry swords. Some carry silence. Some carry your name.
Tiwaz ᛏ Other Names: Tyr, Teiwaz Literal Meaning: The god Týr God Associations: Týr Element: Justice / Sacrifice / Sovereignty Symbolism: Tiwaz is the rune of the oath-bound blade. It stands for truth that costs something—but still gets chosen. This is the rune of right action, of holding to principle when no one else will. Tiwaz does not bend for comfort. It cuts clean. And it asks you to do the same. It calls on the part of you that honors sacred duty. The leader. The warrior. The peacemaker who will still pick up the sword if the thread demands it. In readings, Tiwaz often signals sacrifice for the greater good, or moments when integrity is tested. It demands a choice: stand true, or fall apart. And once chosen—there is no going back. From the Old Norwegian Rune Poem: (Tiwaz does not appear in the Norwegian poem, but its weight is well remembered.) Whispers from the Thread: Cut by the truth. Healed by it too.
Ehwaz ᛖ Other Names: Eh, Eoh Literal Meaning: Horse God Associations: Freyr, Sleipnir (Odin’s horse) Element: Movement / Partnership / Trust Symbolism: Ehwaz is the rune of sacred motion. Of progress through partnership. Of learning how to move in rhythm with another—whether that other is a person, a journey, or the thread of fate itself. The horse is not just transportation. It is companionship. It is trust, speed, instinct, and cooperation. When this rune appears, something is shifting. You may be moving forward physically, or emotionally, or spiritually. But you are not moving alone. There is a bond being forged or tested. Ask yourself: Who do you ride with? What are you carrying? And are you ready to let the journey change you? From the Old Norwegian Rune Poem: (Ehwaz is not included in the surviving Norwegian poem.) Whispers from the Thread: Let the path move under you. Let trust carry you forward.
Ingwaz ᛜ Other Names: Ingwaz, Ing, Yngvi Literal Meaning: Seed, Fertility, the God Ing God Associations: Yngvi-Freyr Element: Potential / Masculine Fertility / Sacred Stillness Symbolism: Ingwaz is the rune of becoming. It holds the seed before it sprouts, the breath before it’s spoken, the spark before flame. A stillness that isn’t empty, but charged—alive with what’s waiting to be born. This rune belongs to the god Yngvi-Freyr, lord of peace, prosperity, and sacred kingship. But don’t mistake softness for passivity. Ingwaz is containment with purpose. It teaches the power of rest, of gathering, of holding one’s center until the moment is right. When drawn, it may signal the end of a cycle… or the sacred pause before the next one. It reminds you that you are not empty just because you are quiet. From the Old Norwegian Rune Poem: (Ingwaz is not preserved in the surviving Norwegian poem.) Whispers from the Thread: Do not rush the seed. What grows in stillness holds the shape of the gods.
Hagalaz ᚺ Other Names: Hagall, Hagalaz, Hagl Literal Meaning: Hail (as in hailstone) God Associations: None directly—often linked to primal forces Element: Destruction / Transformation / Raw Nature Symbolism: Hagalaz is the breaking storm. The sudden ruin that reshapes the field. This rune doesn’t ask for permission. It clears what must be cleared. It falls from the sky and cracks open the path. To draw Hagalaz is to be reminded— some changes aren’t gradual. They hit hard, fast, and without your vote. But when the storm passes, the ground is different. And sometimes, finally ready to grow. From the Old Norwegian Rune Poem: “Hail is the coldest of grain; it falls from the sky and is turned into water.” Whispers from the Thread: Don’t curse the storm. It may be the only thing strong enough to break the spell.
Thurisaz ᚦ Other Names: Þurs (Old Norse), Thorn (Old English), Thurisaz (Proto-Germanic) Literal Meaning: Giant. Thorn. A force of chaos or pain. God Associations: Thor, the Jötnar Element: Fire + Storm Symbolism: Thurisaz is the breaker. The thorn in your side. The storm at your door. It does not come gently—it clears, cuts, confronts. This rune is power unrefined. It is protection through resistance, transformation through pressure. In readings, it can mark a threat—or the force needed to face one. Some call it danger. Some call it initiation. But either way, it moves things. Thurisaz carries both the sharp point of a thorn and the hammer’s crash. A guardian for some, a reckoning for others. From the Old Norwegian Rune Poem: “Þurs vældr kvinna kvillu; kátr værðr fár af illu.” “Giant brings sickness to women; few are glad from harm.” Whispers from the Thread: This rune does not promise ease. But it will not let you stay small. If you pull it, be ready to act—or be acted upon.
Gebo ᚷ Other Names: Gifu, Gebu Literal Meaning: Gift God Associations: Gefjon, Freyr, Freyja, Óðin (as giver of breath and sacrifice) Element: Air Symbolism: Gebo is balance through exchange. A gift given is a bond formed. This is the rune of sacred reciprocity—not trade, not obligation, but that deep knowing that giving must be met with giving, or else something goes out of alignment. It speaks of partnership, hospitality, sacrifice, and love. Of what it means to be in right relation—whether with kin, with gods, or with yourself. In seiðr, this rune reminds us: Nothing is free. And that’s not a burden—it’s a blessing. When both sides offer, the thread strengthens. From the Old Norwegian Rune Poem: There is no stanza for Gebo in the Norwegian poem—because Younger Futhark condensed the Elder’s 24 runes to 16. This rune was absorbed and its unique sound lost. But its meaning remains. You’ll find it carved into wedding bands, altar offerings, and bindings made with love. Whispers from the Thread: If you’re drawing this rune, ask yourself— What have you offered? And what are you ready to receive?
Jera ᛃ Other Names: Járn, Ger Literal Meaning: Year, Harvest God Associations: Freyr, Freyja Element: Earth Symbolism: Jera is the turning of time, the wheel of the year. It is the promise that what is planted will come. Not now. Not immediately. But in the right season. This rune speaks to natural cycles, patience, and reward. It reminds us: You reap what you sow— but only if you tend the soil and wait for the sun. When Jera is cast, it signals growth in motion. It may be unseen now, but something beneath is blooming. It does not rush. It does not skip. It honors the rhythm of things. From the Old Norwegian Rune Poem: Ár er gumna góði; get ek at Jǫrmungrundr. “A good year is men’s delight; I say it comes from the fertile earth.” Whispers from the Thread: Not every harvest arrives when you're hungry. But it will come. Jera is the yes written in slow time.
Dagaz ᛞ Other Names: Dagaz, Dæg, Dagr Literal Meaning: Day, Dawn God Associations: Dagr (personified day), possibly Baldur Element: Illumination / Revelation / Balance Symbolism: Dagaz is the breaking of night, the flash of insight, the shift that cannot be undone. It is transformation through light—not slowly, not softly, but all at once. It holds the paradox of the liminal: Day becoming night. Night becoming day. It is the in-between moment, where shadow is still present, but no longer has dominion. When Dagaz appears, it speaks of clarity, revelation, and irreversible change. It brings the kind of truth that makes you see differently forever. This is the rune of awakening. Not the slow unfurling kind—but the kind that strikes like lightning. From the Old Norwegian Rune Poem: (No verse for Dagaz is preserved in the Norwegian poem, though other poems hint at: "Day, the god’s delight, light of life, hope renewed.") Whispers from the Thread: There are moments that split you open. Not to break you— but to let the light in.
Berkano ᛒ Other Names: Berkana, Beorc Literal Meaning: Birch tree God Associations: Frigg, Nerthus Element: Birth / Shelter / Healing Symbolism: Berkano is the rune of the birch mother—of beginnings wrapped in protection. It carries the rhythm of womb and seed and root. Not just birth, but rebirth. Not just shelter, but the choice to hold and grow what is fragile. This is the rune of the sacred feminine, in all her forms. It is softness that holds its ground. It is the quiet power of restoration, of cleansing, of starting again after loss. In a reading, Berkano signals renewal. It can speak to family, to fertility, to a time of inner healing. But it also reminds you that growth takes tending. There is no rush here. Only a return. From the Old Norwegian Rune Poem: (Berkano is not included in the surviving Norwegian poem.) Whispers from the Thread: New roots. Old strength. Let the birch rise in you.
Mannaz ᛗ Other Names: Mann, Man Literal Meaning: Human, Person, Kin God Associations: Heimdallr, Ask and Embla Element: Identity / Social Structure / Awareness Symbolism: Mannaz is the rune of humanity—not just as individuals, but as a shared kinship. It speaks to the sacred web between people. The self in relation to others. The story you carry because you are not alone. It reminds us: You are not born in isolation. You are shaped by memory, by culture, by the long line behind you and the ripple around you. When Mannaz is drawn, it often calls for reflection of self in the mirror of others. Are you aligned with your purpose within the clan? Are your thoughts truly your own, or shaped by what surrounds you? It is a rune of awareness. Of recognition. To hold it is to ask: Who am I in the world—and what do I owe it? From the Old Norwegian Rune Poem: (Mannaz is not included in the surviving Norwegian poem.) Whispers from the Thread: Your name is not yours alone. It echoes with those who spoke it first.
Wunjo ᚹ Other Names: Wunjō, Wynn, Vend Literal Meaning: Joy, bliss, harmony God Associations: Baldr, Freyr Element: Alignment / Kinship / Inner Truth Symbolism: Wunjo is the joy that hums beneath the noise. Not the laughter forced in company, but the deep, resonant gladness that arrives when everything inside you says yes. This rune speaks of alignment— between heart and path, between kin and self, between the seen and unseen. It can mark reunion. Belonging. A return to rightness that doesn’t have to be earned. But it also reveals false peace— the kind that keeps the boat from rocking while your soul goes still. To draw Wunjo is to be asked: Where does your joy live? And is it yours, or borrowed? From the Old Norwegian Rune Poem: (No surviving verse in the Norwegian poem. Anglo-Saxon version reads: “Joy is had by the one who knows no sorrow, pain nor anxiety, and to him who himself has prosperity and bliss and a good enough house.”) Whispers from the Thread: Joy doesn’t shout. It waits. And when you stop running, you’ll hear it calling you home.
Isa ᛁ Other Names: Is, Isaz Literal Meaning: Ice God Associations: Linked to stillness and Niflheim, possibly Rán Element: Stillness / Pause / Restraint Symbolism: Isa is the frozen breath. The quiet moment where nothing moves—on purpose. This rune doesn’t stir. It doesn’t shift. It holds. To draw Isa is to be reminded— sometimes pause is sacred. Sometimes delay is the only wise move. But beware… Too much stillness becomes stagnation. Too much control becomes cold. From the Old Norwegian Rune Poem: “Ice is the bark of rivers and the roof of the wave and a danger for fey.” Whispers from the Thread: What are you freezing? And why?
Closing the Circle
You’ve walked through more than symbols.
You’ve touched echoes.
Each rune is a remnant of something that still breathes beneath the surface—
the voice of ancestors who carved truths into stone,
the murmur of old gods who never truly left,
the thread of memory that hums in your own hands
whether you know it or not.
Runes don’t give answers the way modern minds want them.
They reveal.
They reflect.
They remind.
And if you let them
they will ask more of you than just belief.
They will ask for presence.
For reverence.
For action.
Because this isn’t a parlor trick.
It’s a reckoning.
A remembering.
The runes do not care if you believe in them.
But if you do…
treat them like they matter.
Because they do.