Lady Hela occupies a strange space in the Norse cosmology. She is one of Loki’s children by Angrboda, seen as so monstrous by the gods that action must be taken to restrain her in some form, much like her siblings Fenrir and Jormungandr. She is born the combination of two opposites: one side of her is lively and fair, representing Life, while the other half of her represents Death. This half takes many forms in different tales: sometimes it’s skeletal, sometimes in the midst of rotting, sometimes blue-tinged as if she froze to death. Unlike her siblings, whose ‘monstrosity’ comes from their animalistic forms, what horrifies the gods about Hela is her death-like form. She represents the End; something the gods have been running from since Odin first heard prophecies of Ragnarok.
Though Odin seems to fear Hela from their first meeting, he also treats her with a degree of respect denied to Jormungandr and Fenrir. He sequesters her to Helheim, either a new world on its own or a corner of Niflheim, the Underworld of Ice. Hela is one of the few with power over all realms, as she’s said to take in all the dead who don’t die on the battlefield, who go to Odin’s Valhalla or Freyja’s Folkvangr, and those who drown, who go to Rán’s hall. In particular, hers are those who die of old age and sickness.
After the arduous journey to Helheim, the dead come to her hall Elvidner, or ‘Misery.’ The dish served at her table was called ‘Hunger’ and her knife was called ‘Greed.’ Her servants were called ‘Idleness’ and ‘Sloth.’ In the chambers she offers those who come to her, her bed was ‘Sorrow,’ her threshold ‘Ruin,’ and her curtains ‘Conflagration.’ While Helheim also took in those who did harm and would be punished in the afterlife, this was not the area they were sent to–that was Nastrond, a hall of snakes. Elvidner was the hall that the average, well-meaning individual went to, so why is everything named ominously?
This brings us to the heart of our own work with Hela. She is a Death Goddess, who tends to those in the afterlife, but like most Death Goddesses, we need not wait until death to work with her, or wait until we have a loved one pass on. She is there for us in our grief, of course, but Hela is also often described by those who work with her as having a sort of cold compassion. This is because she is a goddess of Relief, rather than Comfort.
Imagine with me what it might have been like to experience the ‘straw death’ of the old Norse, wasting away on a straw bed. Bound to the straw by old age or illness, you wait there, knowing death is coming and helpless to stop it. You have no hope for the hero’s death that might admit you to one of the glorious halls of combat that all in your community strive for. You stare at your thatched ceiling: aching, miserable, suffering. Time drags on, and the pain worsens, and there is nothing you can do to fix it. Medicines have failed, and time does not pause simply because the old are nearing their end. Maybe you wail, scream, cry your fury at the death you’re approaching, knowing you’re about to walk the long, hard road to Helheim. Maybe you watch it coming toward you numb, empty, and hopeless, knowing there’s nothing that can be done and being past the point of tears. Maybe you have no time to worry about what comes next because the pain of your illness is so severe you have no strength for such concerns.
Then, at a certain point, you see her in the distance. A tall woman, one half lovely and one half rotten. She extends her rotten hand to you, and you give your last breath: a sigh of release as you’re given the relief you’ve been seeking. You need to travel the Hel-Road, but you do so now on strong, spritely legs so unlike the ones you remember before death, weakened as they were. Your aches and pains are gone, succor finally offered for your suffering.
You arrive at Elvidner, and you realize it’s called Misery because your own has faded away by the time you reach it. There is nothing weighing on your heart, your physical pains have fallen away, and you are about to see all your loved ones and ancestors who died this way before you. You approach the table and your hunger finally sparks again–it’s been so long since you’ve had an appetite, sick as you were, and there is plenty of food here to slake it. You pick up your knife, greedy to devour the feast, but you quickly realize that every morsel eaten by other guests is immediately replaced. You decide to take your time, the need for greed falling away, as there is more than enough to go around now. Idleness and Sloth, the servants of the house, bustle between guests, seeming to fulfill each errant desire before they can be asked. These servants hardly live up to their names, but allow you to finally enjoy the idleness that had been forced upon you on your deathbed.
You are finally shown to your room. You almost flinch from the sight of the bed, remembering the suffering you endured last time you laid your head on straw, but your sorrow falls away–what do you have to fear now, after all? You pass over the threshold into a sturdy room that will never fall down around you; finally, you don’t have to fear stray storms and what ruin might come to you if you’re unable to repair your home due to being bed bound. You draw the curtains across your window, granting you a little space to yourself, and set your little candle wherever you very well please, no longer fearing that your curtains may go up in flames and take your home with them. Death cannot harm you any longer, as you’ve already died. The rest you take in that bed is more peaceful than any you’ve had in years, decades–maybe ever.
I wanted to take you on this little journey not because it’s impossible to explain why Hela is Our Lady of Relief, but rather because imagining the trek step by step gives a more visceral understanding. Hela is not a goddess of Glorious Death, honored in hopes of being remembered after we’re gone. She is a Death Goddess for the common folk, caring more about suffering than honor. The second the gods saw her and flinched away, it was clear she was not going to have renown and respect. It was no concern of hers, but was her concern, was exactly what she named her hall for: Misery.
Human beings cause a great deal of suffering for each other. Beyond our own cruelty, life itself has many miseries in it, including things like sickness and old age. We cannot fight off misery with a sword, but we can relieve it with kindness. The way into Helheim, after all, is past the hellhound Garm. He can only be passed by giving him a Hel-cake, said to work without fail for those who gave bread to the needy during life. Kindness and generosity is the key to entering Helheim, a home for those who have none, a respite for the weary and miserable.
It’s well and good that there are homes for the brave, the courageous, those who fight for what they believe in. So too is it good that there is a resting place for those who fight the tides of cruelty with other means. Hela and her home offer a just reward for the simple folk, who are only trying to get by in life, and do so without undue harm to others. Those folk inevitably end up with a straw death, as old age will take them in the end if sickness doesn’t. And in those final moments, Hela will be there, offering relief for all of life’s aches and pains. She will welcome them into her hall of Misery that ends all misery, with its many comforts named for the aches and fears they relieve.
Hela will always be waiting there with a hand outstretched for us in the end, but how do we work with her in the meantime, without running into her arms? In our practice, she’s who we pray to when we need relief. There is a time for comfort, where a warm embrace and kind words are needed to soften the ache in our hearts–for this, we turn to deities of warmth, like Aphrodite Epitymbidia or Loki. There is also a time where embraces and soft words fall short because the pain is too strong, making these gestures feel like empty platitudes. These are the times we turn to Hela.
Especially in today’s climate, many of us are feeling what I call ‘a scream locked behind the teeth.’ This feeling is when the hurt combines with outrage and bubbles over until we are overwhelmed and it feels like there is no good way to express all that misery. We can’t get it out in our societies where there’s often no appropriate place to let loose the blood curdling howl that would truly release what we feel. Instead, we’re stuck with our scream trapped in our mouths, with no way to get it out. There is little we can do to truly feel like we’re remedying the situation we’re trapped in, and even releasing the sorrow feels forbidden.
Luckily, this is a feeling Hela knows very well how to help with. In the end, her duty is to offer relief to suffering–that of the straw death, and during life. For moments where things feel overwhelming, like you have a scream locked behind your teeth, I offer you this meditation, in hopes that it might help ease your sorrow. Read the instructions below before following them; there are no words you’ll need to memorize that you’ll need the text open for.
Get comfortable and close your eyes. I recommend doing this in silence, but quiet music or nature sounds will also work. Focus on the blackness behind your eyes, the void you always carry with you. As you do so, try to slow and steady your breath. Inhale slowly until your lungs are completely full, hold for just a moment, then slowly release your breath, holding again for a moment when your lungs are empty.
The blackness behind your eyes is your connection to Ginnungagap, the Creative Void of Chaos in Norse cosmology. Everything that is arose from it, and a piece of it remains inside us. Through this connection, visualize Hela. She may appear suddenly, materialize from the ether, or slowly appear to walk toward you out of the nothingness, as she sees fit. When you have a strong image of her, she will extend her rotten, blue, or skeletal hand toward you. Your first instinct will likely be to flinch–don’t, if you’re able. Take a deep breath to steady yourself if need be.
Look at her as calmly as you’re able and say something to the following effect (but feel free to put it in your own words): “Lady Hela, Our Lady of Relief, I ask for your help. I cannot go with you today, to set down my burdens forever, but they’ve become too heavy for me to bear. Please, will you take them for me?”
If you’re doing this meditation, you’re likely in some form of distress. Your mind may be bombarding you with every concern, or maybe they’re all just weighing heavily on you. Regardless, your next step remains the same. You may receive some sign from Hela that she agrees to take on your concerns, like a nod, slow blink, inclination of the chin, or some words. If she gives you a firm no, ask her why she declined–if you don’t get a clear answer, do some form of divination for insight and give an offering of some sort before trying again.
In our experience, she agrees or waits in patient silence. With this go-ahead, share with her your troubles and let that scream out from behind your teeth. Maybe this is wordless wailing to express your sorrow, at least in your own mind. It might be venting, just explaining to her all your woes and getting them off your chest. Sometimes, it’s as simple as visualizing placing each concern wordlessly into her hand–you know what each one is, and she does too. This is your opportunity to wring yourself dry of every sorrow; there’s no need to walk away from this still feeling weighed down. Continue airing your grievances until you feel like you’ve given all you have. You may finish this process feeling tired. Sometimes, there’s a feeling like you’ve been scrubbed clean, left healthy but raw from the process. Tears may or may not flow during this–don’t fight them if they do arise, but let them wash you clean.
If you’re completely finished, her hand should close and withdraw, as she’s accepted all the sorrow you have to offer. If her hand is still open, or she asks you what other sorrows you hold, continue trying to get to the heart of what’s bothering you until her hand closes. When this happens, say something like the following: “Thank you for taking on my sorrow, that I may continue to walk forward with compassion, rather than bound by fear. I will walk with you one day; thank you for continuing to wait until then.”
When you finish, you should feel calmer. There may be that tired or clean-but-raw feeling, and both are positive here. Remember that Hela’s realm is Relief, not Comfort. After this, there are a few things we do to ground and carry on with our day. First, take in a little bit of salt–this is our favorite grounding method, as the sharpness of salt on the tongue is one of the quickest ways we know to come back to your body. Then, do something to bring you comfort specifically. Make yourself tea or hot cocoa, wrap yourself in a soft blanket, light some candles or incense, read a book or watch a favorite show–whatever will bring you in particular comfort. Your wounds have been cleaned, but now they need to be dressed so you can continue forward, so take the time to patch yourself up with comfort. This may include lighting candles or incense to deities more associated with that feeling of comfort; there’s no harm in going from working with one deity directly into working with another.
Hela, as a Death Goddess, can be frightening to approach. She doesn’t offer warmth and comfort, but she does offer the cool relief needed when burned by life. She helps us to bear the cruelty and hardship many folks experience in the world; we hope she may do the same for you. May she bring relief for your sorrows, but never the final relief too soon.
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