What Is Seidr? (Norse Shamanism with Better PR)

So you know shamanism is a thing. You've done the recognition exercise. You've identified your natural inclinations. You're ready to learn actual techniques.

Welcome to seidr.

If shamanism is the broad category (technologies of consciousness, spirit contact, journeying between worlds), then seidr is the specific Norse flavor. It's what the Vikings called their particular brand of trance work, fate manipulation, and spirit communication.

And it has a reputation.

Not a good one.

The Völur: Professional Seers Who Scared Everyone

Let's start with who actually practiced seidr: the völur (singular völva).

These were professional practitioners, usually women, who traveled from community to community performing ceremonies. They'd show up at your village, you'd build them a special high seat, the whole community would gather, and the völva would go into trance to answer questions about the future, find lost things, diagnose illnesses, locate game animals, predict harvests, and occasionally curse your enemies.

They dressed distinctively. The sagas describe elaborate costumes: catskin gloves, hoods lined with white catskin, staffs, pouches full of magical items, cloaks made of various animal skins. This wasn't fashion, it was signaling. When a völva showed up, everyone knew what they were dealing with.

They were respected. They were feared. They were paid well. They were also kept at arm's length.

Why? Because seidr practitioners had power over fate itself. They could see what was coming. They could manipulate what would be. They could bind or unbind, curse or bless, reveal or conceal. That's the kind of power that makes people nervous, even when they need it.

The most detailed description we have comes from Erik the Red's Saga, which describes a völva named Thorbjorg visiting a Greenland settlement during a famine. She performs a full ceremony: special foods, a cushion stuffed with hen feathers for her high seat, women singing special songs (varðlokur, or spirit-calling songs), and then she goes into trance and receives prophecies about when the famine will end.

The ceremony works. Her prophecies come true. Everyone's impressed and a little terrified.

That's seidr in action.

What Made Seidr Different (And Why Men Were Weird About It)

Here's where it gets interesting.

Seidr wasn't the only magical practice the Norse had. There was also galdr (incantation, rune singing, spoken charms). Galdr was considered masculine, appropriate, respectable. You could practice galdr without anyone questioning your gender or your honor.

Seidr, though? Seidr was considered ergi.

Ergi is a complicated Old Norse concept that roughly translates to "unmanly," but it's deeper than that. It implies passivity, receptivity, taking the feminine role. In a culture that prized masculine aggression and activity, being ergi was a serious insult. You could legally kill someone for calling you ergi.

Why was seidr considered ergi? Because it required receptivity. You had to open yourself, go into trance, let the spirits speak through you. You had to surrender control. You had to receive rather than command.

That's feminine in Norse cultural terms. Not weak (the völur were clearly powerful), but feminine. Receptive. Oracular. Prophetic rather than forceful.

Men could practice seidr, but it came with social stigma. The sagas are pretty clear about this. Even Odin, the king of the gods, gets mocked for learning seidr from Freya. Loki throws it in his face: "You practiced seidr on Samsey, you beat the drum like a völva, you took the woman's role." This is not a compliment.

But Odin does it anyway. Because seidr gives access to knowledge that galdr doesn't. Seidr lets you see fate. It lets you manipulate wyrd. It lets you travel between worlds in ways that other practices don't.

So Odin accepts the stigma because the power is worth it.

Modern practitioners need to understand this dynamic, not to recreate ancient gender politics, but to understand what seidr actually is: a receptive practice. You're not commanding spirits or forcing outcomes. You're opening to receive, seeing what's hidden, working with patterns rather than against them.

That requires a different kind of strength than the forceful, active approach. It requires the courage to be vulnerable, to surrender, to not-know before you know.

The Core Practices: What Seidr Actually Involved

Strip away the cultural context and the gender drama, and seidr had several core techniques:

Trance induction. The völva went into altered states, often with the help of repetitive singing (varðlokur), drumming, or other techniques. This wasn't a light meditation. The descriptions suggest deep trance, the kind where consciousness genuinely shifts and you're accessing different information.

Prophecy and divination. Once in trance, the völva could see patterns of fate, answer questions about the future, locate hidden things, diagnose spiritual illnesses. This wasn't fortune-telling. It was reading wyrd, seeing the threads in the web of fate and where they were heading.

Fate manipulation. This is the controversial part. Seidr practitioners could apparently bind or unbind fate. They could curse (sending someone a "death magic" that would unfold over time) or bless (weaving protective patterns). They could manipulate hamingja (a person's luck or spiritual power). They could send their consciousness out to affect things at a distance.

Spirit journeying. The völva could send her spirit form (hugr or fylgja) traveling while her body remained in trance. She could visit other realms, contact the dead, speak with spirits, gather information that wasn't accessible to ordinary consciousness.

Soul work. Though the sagas don't describe this as clearly as other aspects, there are hints that seidr practitioners did work we'd now call soul retrieval, removing spiritual intrusions, or healing fragmented aspects of the self.

Notice the pattern? Every one of these practices requires receptivity, openness, surrender to the process. You can't force prophecy. You can't command the spirits to speak. You have to get out of the way and let something move through you.

That's what made it ergi. That's also what made it powerful.

Seidr vs. Shamanism: What's the Difference?

So if seidr sounds a lot like shamanism, that's because it is shamanism. It's the Norse version.

The core elements are identical: altered states, spirit contact, journeying, healing, divination. But the cultural packaging is different, the cosmology is different, the specific techniques are different.

Shamanism is the universal category. Seidr is one particular expression of it, shaped by Norse culture, cosmology, and magic.

When you practice seidr-inspired techniques today, you're not recreating Viking culture. You're working with the same underlying technologies of consciousness that shamans everywhere have used, but you're using the Norse symbolic system, the Norse cosmology, the Norse gods and spirits as your framework.

Why does that matter? Because the framework shapes the experience. Work with Odin and you get different insights than working with, say, Buddhist deities or Indigenous American spirits. Not better or worse, but different. The Norse framework emphasizes fate, wyrd, shadow work, integration of darkness, the reality of death, the imperfection of the gods.

That's particularly useful for modern people who've been sold a lot of spiritual bypassing about "love and light" and "manifesting abundance." The Norse approach is grittier, more realistic, more psychologically honest. It's good medicine for a culture that's overdosed on positive thinking.

If you want to understand how seidr fits into the broader Norse magical tradition, The Living Pattern by Jón Vaningi offers an excellent foundation in how fate-weaving and conscious co-creation work within the Norse worldview.

Modern Misconceptions (What Seidr Isn't)

Before we go further, let's clear up some common misunderstandings:

Seidr is not just rune work. Runes are important in Norse magic, but they're not seidr. They're more aligned with galdr (we'll explore this in depth when we get to the runes). Seidr is the trance-based, oracular, fate-weaving practice. Runes are a related but separate system.

Seidr is not just Viking cosplay. You don't need the catskin gloves and elaborate costume. Those were cultural markers. The actual practice is the trance work, the spirit contact, the opening to receive. Do that in jeans and a t-shirt if you want. The spirits don't care about your outfit.

Seidr is not a religion. It's a set of techniques, a magical practice. Some people combine it with Norse paganism or Heathenry. Others use the techniques within different spiritual frameworks or with no religious framework at all. The practices work regardless of your theology.

Seidr is not safe, fluffy, or beginner-friendly. Despite what some modern teachers will tell you, this is deep work. You're messing with consciousness, contacting spirits, potentially manipulating fate. That requires respect, preparation, and boundaries. We'll cover safety in the practical section.

Seidr is not gender-locked. Yes, it was historically feminine-coded. No, that doesn't mean only women can practice it today. It means practitioners need to cultivate receptive capacity regardless of their gender. Men might have to work harder to get past cultural conditioning that tells them receptivity is weakness, but the practice itself is available to everyone.

Why Seidr Got a Bad Reputation

The sagas are clear: seidr practitioners were needed but not always liked.

Part of this was the ergi thing. But there's more to it.

Seidr gave access to dangerous knowledge. A völva could see things people wanted hidden. She could reveal affairs, betrayals, hidden crimes. She could predict deaths, which is not information people generally want to hear. She could curse as easily as bless, and everyone knew it.

There's also the moral ambiguity. Seidr wasn't about serving the light or fighting evil. It was a tool. It could be used for healing or harming, blessing or cursing, revealing or concealing. The völur operated outside conventional morality. They served fate, not social rules.

That made people nervous. Rightfully so.

Modern practitioners need to grapple with this. Seidr is not white magic. It's not about being nice or good. It's about working with what is, seeing clearly, engaging with fate honestly. Sometimes that means uncomfortable truths. Sometimes that means working in the gray areas. Sometimes that means accepting that curse work is part of the tradition, even if you choose not to practice it.

The shadow of seidr is the temptation to use these powers for ego gratification, manipulation, or control. Every tradition has this shadow. The Norse were just more honest about it. They didn't pretend magic was always benevolent. They knew power could corrupt. They knew practitioners could go wrong.

That's why seidr practitioners were kept at arm's length even while being respected. They had power that could go either way.

The Shadow of Power (When the Gift Becomes the Curse)

Speaking of shadow, let's talk about what happens when people get good at this work.

Trance states are compelling. Spirit contact is fascinating. The ability to see patterns others miss is intoxicating. Prophetic dreams make you feel special. Access to hidden knowledge gives you an edge.

All of that can become addictive.

The shadow of seidr practice is using these gifts to feed ego rather than serve something larger. It's claiming special status because you can do things others can't. It's using your abilities to manipulate people or situations rather than bring clarity and healing. It's getting so identified with being a "seer" or "practitioner" that you lose touch with your regular human self.

Signs you might be falling into this shadow:

You're having profound spiritual experiences but your regular life is falling apart
You use your "gifts" to feel superior to others
You make everything about spirits and prophecy, avoiding practical responsibility
You're drawn to the drama and specialness of being a practitioner more than the actual work
You tell people things "the spirits said" to manipulate outcomes you want
You're collecting spiritual experiences without integrating them into daily life

The antidote is staying grounded. The völur traveled but they also returned. They went into trance but they also came back. They worked with spirits but they also dealt with practical reality (they charged for their services, they negotiated payment, they had to eat and sleep like everyone else).

Real seidr practice makes you more functional in ordinary life, not less. It gives you tools for seeing clearly, working skillfully, navigating complexity. If your practice is making you weird in a way that isolates you and impairs your ability to function, something's wrong.

Wyrdwalker by Jón Vaningi is particularly helpful here, offering practical frameworks for shadow work and staying grounded while doing deep spirit work.

Practical Element: Basic Seidr-Inspired Trance (With Safety Guidelines)

Alright, enough theory. Let's do something.

This is a simplified version of trance induction inspired by seidr practice. It's not the full elaborate ceremony the völur did. It's a basic technique you can use to start developing trance capacity and opening to receive information.

Safety first:

Do this somewhere safe where you won't be interrupted for at least 30 minutes
Sit or lie comfortably, but don't do this while driving or operating machinery (obviously)
If you have a history of psychosis or dissociation, check with a therapist before doing trance work
Set a timer so you don't drift too long (20-30 minutes maximum for beginners)
Have something grounding nearby (food, a grounding stone, something with texture you can touch)

The practice:

Find a comfortable seated position. You can sit in a chair with your feet flat on the ground, or sit cross-legged on the floor, whatever feels sustainable for 20 minutes.
Close your eyes. Take three deep breaths, letting each exhale be longer than the inhale.
Now begin a simple repetitive hum or chant. It doesn't have to be anything fancy. You can hum a single note. You can repeat "ahhhh" or "ohhhh" or any simple sound that feels natural. The point is repetition and sound.
The varðlokur songs the völur used were monotonous, repetitive, and designed to shift consciousness. You're creating a simplified version. Keep the sound going. Don't worry about it being pretty or musical. Monotonous is good.
As you continue the sound, let your awareness soften. You're not trying to focus intensely. You're letting your ordinary consciousness relax its grip.
Notice if images arise. Notice if thoughts come that feel different from your usual mental chatter. Notice if you get sudden body sensations or emotional shifts.
You're not forcing anything. You're creating conditions (repetitive sound, relaxed awareness) and seeing what emerges.
Continue for 10-15 minutes if you're new to this. Experienced meditators can go longer.
When you're ready to return, gradually let the sound fade. Take three deep breaths. Wiggle your fingers and toes. Open your eyes.
Ground yourself. Stand up. Stomp your feet. Eat something. Touch something with texture. You want to fully return to ordinary consciousness, not stay drifting in the in-between space.

What you're practicing:

This simple exercise develops several capacities:

The ability to shift consciousness intentionally
Receptivity (letting things arise rather than forcing them)
Using sound as a technology for trance
The skill of journeying out and returning safely

Don't expect dramatic experiences the first few times. You're building capacity. Like any skill, it develops with practice.

Some people will naturally drop into trance easily. Others need more practice. There's no right way to experience this. Just notice what happens without judgment.

Journaling after:

Once you're fully grounded, write down anything you noticed. Images, thoughts, body sensations, emotions, whatever arose. Don't interpret yet. Just record.

Over time, patterns will emerge. You'll start to recognize what genuine information feels like versus what's just your imagination recycling old material. You'll develop the discernment between ego-generated content and what's actually coming from somewhere else.

That discernment is crucial for real seidr work. The völur were valued because their information was reliable. That reliability came from practice and developed sensitivity, not from making things up or letting wishful thinking contaminate the process.

What Comes Next

Now you understand what seidr is: Norse shamanic practice, trance-based, oracular, concerned with fate and prophecy and the ability to work with wyrd rather than against it.

You've started developing the basic capacity for trance (if you did the exercise). You understand the cultural context and the shadow pitfalls.

In the next chapter, we're going to explore the cosmology that underlies all of this: the Nine Worlds. Because you can't journey between worlds if you don't know what the worlds are, what they represent, and how to navigate them safely.

The Nine Worlds aren't just Norse mythology. They're a map of consciousness, a psychological framework, a way of understanding different states and territories of the psyche. They're where seidr practitioners travel when they're in trance. They're where you'll be going.

Time to learn the map before we take the journey.

Ready? Let's go.

This article is part of our Runes collection. Read our comprehensive Runes guide to explore the ancient wisdom and mystical power of runic symbols.