The half month of Laguz began on 29th April and comes to a close on 14th May. I was a bit preoccupied on 29th May but I am taking a brief sojourn from honeymoon to share with you some of my musings on Laguz, the rune of water.
In many ways Laguz is a deceptive rune, first and foremost because it is so easy to say, ‘Aha, I know this one, Laguz is the rune of water’, and leave it at that – but there is much more to this rune. You will find that a large proportion of the modern meanings and correspondences given for Laguz work on the basis that anything which can be tied in with the element of water must also fit pretty neatly with Laguz. This works well, up to a point: it is indeed the case that this rune can be used for purification and healing, that it can represent the divine feminine, and that it relates to hidden or subconscious matters; but it is important for us to remember that the mythology Laguz springs from did not work with the Graeco-Roman concepts of the four elements. We can look to old tales of water spirits, sea monsters, sirens, undines and the other denizens of salt and fresh water to help us understand the nature of Laguz; legends of wishing wells, spell-binding songs, terrible curses, magical gold and more all speak to us of the powerful nature of Laguz. It is also useful to note that the primal elements in Norse Mythology are fire and ice, together they came together to form the first beings and the Worlds; water, the element which forms when fire and ice come together, can be seen as the result of the creative process.
What I find particularly interesting about Laguz is its asymmetry. All of the other runes in the final Aett, indeed, all of the runes from Isa onwards, can be bisected to form a mirror image – except Laguz. In particular, from Teiwaz onwards, the rune row seems to become an exploration of symmetry and balance – of the divided self which seeks to become whole once more. Laguz breaks this pattern, its power comes from its asymmetry; when the Teiwaz rune rotates it forms a central axis with two arms revolving in perfect balance, Laguz has just one arm, it causes tension, pulling from one side to the other. Commentators have likened Laguz to Frigg’s distaff, perhaps indicating that the power of asymmetry, of constant tension, is a necessary tension for the weaving of Wyrd. The fibres are selected and woven together; as the distaff, Laguz becomes the container of Wyrd – an echo of Perthro from which Wyrd flows – but with Laguz the distaff holds the threads ready for use, suggesting that he who can wield Laguz weaves his own destiny.
It has also been suggested that Laguz represents the sea shore, the constantly shifting boundary between land and sea, a place where worlds meet, treasures are shared, and unpredictability is a constant. In modern psychology the depths of the subconscious are likened to the depths of the ocean, we plumb our minds in order to release our fears and realise our potential. It is interesting to note that a common belief among the Germanic peoples was that the dead lived beneath the water and souls sprang from it – water literally becomes the place of life and death, its reflective surface shields the living from the fearful knowledge of the powers lurking beneath. A common theme for Laguz is that of power, the power to create change by creating tension within the web – tying a new knot, whirling the waters anew, flowing with the current – but also directing its course.