Uruz is often associated with the aurochs, the great wild cows that roamed from Africa to Europe, and throughout parts of Asia. When I look at Uruz, the first thing I see is a great set of horns, bent downwards towards the earth. It is interesting to me that the first two runes of the Elder Futhark are in the shape of cows. Auroch were last seen in Poland in 1627, and so this rune also has a sense of melancholy. However, I think it also contains an important lesson about symbols through time.
Uruz is, for me, a rune of primal energy - of a time of giants and hunters. It is a rune of nomadic wanderers, and physical memory. To me, it is a rune of intuition, and gut feelings. And a rune of moving energy.
Often when we talk about the magic of early Nordic people, of the Viking and Bronze ages, we must remind ourselves of a warning. Symbolism changes. This, I think, is a warning that could be applied to any magic from a time that is not our own. We cannot apply a modern understanding of hunting, or of nomadic life, to the reality of ancestors. Our concepts have changed so vastly over hundreds, not to mention thousands of years, we run risk of making assumptions that do not belong to that time or place.
Uruz is a good rune, then, in avoiding this. I believe our bodies carry memory from the lives that led to ours, and we know that scientifically epigenetics are an examples of this. Of course, epigenetic memory functions very differently to the memory of our conscious mind.
It's hard to say how far back a body memory might go, but I like to imagine that the more we connect to our body, the more we can deepen our connection to people who came before us, further and further into the past.
I believe when we deepen our work with magic, adults in the western world in particular, many stray from the messages of the body. By overly relying on books and lore, we run the risk of ignoring arguably our most valuable tool - our body. I would argue that's what Uruz represents most, the part of us that knows how to do things without picking up a book. The aspect of ourselves that can feel the inherent magic of something, without being told what it is.
Children tend to be more in communication with this part of themselves. Over time, as we grow up, we create explanations, coping mechanisms, and more complex understandings, and our Uruz body gets lost in the din of the voices present.
I challenge you to make time to listen to that body. Give it space to tell you what it feels, without immediately explaining what that should be interpreted as. Give it a voice, you will not be sorry.