This was the basis for my Njord blot at PCon this year. Though sparsely attended, those who did attend really seemed to get it. Also, they got to see me cry, which is a rare thing for me in general, and an even rarer thing for me in public. The downside to being so strongly connected to the Vanir Gods is that when They hurt, I feel it too.
Now let’s get this straight:
I am wise and generous and giving.
The seashells are mine. The gulls and the waves and the seashore are mine. Mine is the current and the undercurrent, the ebb and flow of the tides, and the riches they bring forth.
Mine are those who adventure, who lust for renown and riches, who set plans and see them through. Mine is the coin in the coin box and the gold at the bottom of the ocean when plans go awry. The sweet salt wind, the flow of commerce, to and fro. These are the gifts I can give. These are the gifts I have given, and will continue to give when asked. Yet there is no acknowledgement of this.
Where are the ancestors of your community? Why are they not honored and remembered?
Why is your community not wealthy? Where are their riches? Where are their numbers? Where is their fame? Why don’t those who need come to me for gifts?! Why do those who are not in need, but who wish to gain respect in the eyes of the Gods, not flock to me like the gulls who catch the scent of fish in the wind?
Kin of my kin, why are you not answering me? Why have you lost your faith in me?
Blood of my blood, come back to me!
–So ranteth Njord, generous god of the Sea.