Midgard is the strange world of space and time.

Midgard is the solar system, the galaxies, the superclusters, the entirety of the physical cosmos.

Midgard is the world of your senses, the world of pleasure and pain, the world of crippling boredom, and wild adventure.

Midgard is the present moment, constantly dying and giving birth to itself.

Existence is a creature with a body and a mind.

Midgard is the body.

This body is animated by the breathÖnd – Spirit – the ethereal substance of the Otherworld – the arche of all that exists.

The mountains, the trees, the dirt, the light, and the shadows – it’s all alive!


Before Midgard existed, there was only an infinitely charged void. This is the place in which the Primordial Myths take place, those that concern the beings who existed before even Midgard came to be.

Out of the chaos of Ice and Fire, a Sleeping Giant arose from the clay. Ymir was its name, neither male nor female; an enormous mass of Spirit laying unconscious, its snores echoing throughout the void. Ymir slowly began to fragment, and smaller Giants emerged from Ymir’s body – female giants and male giants. From the union of the sexes came further Giants still, and the People of Ymir grew in number.

Among the People of Ymir came the Sons of Bor – Odin and his brothers – and through means unknown, they discovered the secret of matter. Coming to the sleeping body of Ymir, they slew the Giant as it slept, and from the fragments of its shattered body, they oversaw the formation of Midgard, the world of space and time.

The ancients told of how Ymir’s blood made up the oceans, and its flesh the soil. The clouds are the scattered gore of Ymir’s brains, and the plants and trees are wrought of the Giant’s hair. Yet all of this was contained within the great encircling heavens, the vast outer ocean, the wider cosmos of outer space.

And this, said the ancients, was Ymir’s skull.


Spirit is what we truly are. We are fragments of Ymir. We are wights inhabiting human flesh.

Each one of us is a microcosmic reflection of existence. Our bodies are Midgard. Our spirit is Otherworld.

Bodies die.
Spirit is immortal.


Midgard is a dense and difficult place, and our bodies can feel like heavy, restrictive bags of flesh. Not for nothing has the body been named a ‘flesh cage’. Often one can feel a strange sense of being trapped in their body. They may even have dreams in which they are disembodied and soaring through the sky, joyous and free.

In Midgard we are subject to flesh, space and time. We must feed our bodies, and keep them healthy and fit. Often, when the density of this world of matter overwhelms, this can seem impossibly difficult. Why is it that the unhealthy option is always the easiest and most desirable?

Midgard is the world formed by manifest spirit, often a harsh, hostile, chaotic place. It needs to be if it is to fulfil its purpose. Midgard is our forge. It is the world in which our Spirit grows in experience, it challenges us to become strong, and it demands that we become wise.

Most fail the Trial of Midgard.


Midgard is the world of myth and story, symbols and images, themes and narrative.

Midgard is the dramatisation of the Otherworld.

Midgard is the greatest mythos of them all.

We are not the playthings of fate as some have claimed. We have the power to create our future, if we did but know it. It is our own actions that spin the threads of fate, and a single powerful individual can change the world forever.

The Sisters of Fate dwell by the bottomless pool at the Tree of Life. Yet this place lies within us, not in some strange world out there.

Fate is not something that happens to us.

We are fate.

And Midgard is our stage.