My essentials are a bit like a kid’s secret box with its stock of strings, rocks, loose pieces of something, maybe an old watch and perhaps a few papers; they’re thoughts, words, memories from places, feelings from and for people, symbols and past moments. And in the midst of it there’s also a God named Frey: He reminds me of leadership, generosity, caring and nurturing, but also of cutting ties when they drain life instead of supporting it; He speaks of having fun, enjoying life and mundane pleasures, but also of taking care of the body you’ll have to spend the rest of life with and which, after all, allows you to enjoy those very same pleasures; He’s a sun shining from within, the rebirth of midwinter or the solar height of midsummer, casting away the consuming shadows of others.
Of course, one might say that this is just me projecting my own ideals into a godly figure. Perhaps it is, but perhaps that’s the whole point of role models: they’re the ones that remind us of what’s good, what’s right and true, and constantly update those things in our minds and hearts. They’re beacons that point in a given direction or warn of dangerous places and Frey just happens to do that for me. By my own choice, His or both. Or maybe by a more or less “weird” chain of events, starting from that day I opened the mythology chapter of an encyclopedia and read an entry under the letter F.