This morning I woke up late so things are going to be kind of short. I’m at stanza 11 of my Havamal. According to the Temple of Our Heathen Gods, stanzas 10-14 are kind of linked together. I like Chisholm’s version for this one.
A man bears no better burden,
when on the wilderness ways
than great wisdom. One can have no worse fare,
on road or field, than too much ale.
A worse provision on the way he can-
not carry than too much beer-bibbing; so
good is not, as it is said, beer for the sons
The first two lines are reminiscent of the lines from stanza 10 but the next lines are telling me that too much drink will not be as easy to carry. It also dulls the senses of being cautious, aware, and keeping your wits about you. I’m a social drinker meaning even at Sumbels or fires with the Kindred I only have a glass of mead outside of drinking from the horn. Whereas others are not in the same mind frame and that’s ok too. Another stanza reminding me to keep cautious, aware, and wits about.