Nature and Heathenry

Here in Missouri we have a very serious problem with deer. The problem is that there is just too many. So many that they often make pests of themselves.  Deer are often responsible for damaging crops, gardens, lawns, orchards, and even woodlands. Deer are also responsible for many auto accidents, sometimes not only seriously damaging the vehicles involved but killing the occupants as well. Besides the fact that it is very popular and provides a source of food for many, part of the reason that deer are hunted in Missouri is simply to control the population.  In fact, the deer problem is so bad in some parks that they will actually have controlled deer hunts (often with bow and arrow instead of firearms) to reduce the population. Of course, the reason that we have the problem with deer that we do is that the people of Missouri long ago wiped out all of the animal’s natural predators. At one time the state teemed with wolves, mountain lions, and bears. Simply because these animals were considered a threat to livestock and even humans, they were hunted until no more were left in the state. With no natural predators, the deer population grew out of control. And sadly, human beings simply are not enough to keep the population down. голова болит секс голова болит секс

This bit of Missouri history is not only an object lesson in how Man should live in more harmony with nature, but yet another example of how Europe and later the countries of the Americas have abused the environment. Much of this attitude of treating nature as we wish stems from Christian thought. In Christianity Man is considered Master of the Universe. Indeed, in Genesis 1:28, it says that God told Adam that Man would have dominion over “….over the fish of the sea, and over the birds of the air, and over the cattle, and over all the earth, and over every creeping thing that creeps upon the earth.” The attitude that Man is the master of animals and nature would inevitably lead to the exploitation of our environment with little concern for the consequences.  In fact, I have heard some Christians even express the idea that it doesn’t matter what we do to nature, as their god will take care of it (that is, he will repair the damaged ozone layer).

Of course, Christianity would begin to lose ground in the Renaissance, often giving way to secular humanism. Unfortunately, the secular humanism that existed until the 20th century was not much more sophisticated in its attitudes towards the environment. Secular humanism was often accompanied by an emphasis on progress and scientific advancement above all else, even at the expense of nature. Again, little concern was given to the possible effects it might have on the environment. голова болит секс

Why traditional Christian thought and the secular humanism of the 16th to 19th centuries were very primitive by our standards with regards to ecology, I must interject that in no way were the ancient Germanic peoples as sophisticated as many modern English speakers in our approach to the environment. The aurochs would go extinct in 1627, but there can be little doubt that their numbers were dwindling before the advent of Christianity. Man had to have had a hand in its demise, as they didn’t simply die off through accidents and disease.  Egils Saga makes reference to the fact that the early settlers hunted seal and other animals, as they were still unused to Man. This early reminiscence would seem to indicate that seals and other creatures were not as common as they once were, indicating the population had been considerably reduced. And, of course, we know that Iceland was quickly deforested not long after its settlement, long before Christianisation.

Still, the fact remains that heathen thought would appear to be on the whole more sympathetic to environmentalism than early Christian thought or the secular humanism of earlier centuries. Among the ancient Germanic peoples there was no assumption that Man was the master of the animals and the world around him.  With no such assumption, this allows the possibility that the ancient Germanic peoples were not quite so careless as the Christians would later be with the environment. While they were by no means sophisticated in their approach to ecology and certainly no the Dark Age environmentalists many romanticise them to have been, it seems quite possible that the ancient Germanic peoples were a bit more thoughtful towards nature than later Christians would be.

Even if the ancient Germanic peoples were голова болит секс as careless as the later Christians were with regards to the environment, the fact that heathen thought does not teach that Man is master of all he surveys is enough to give us the opportunity to adopt a more sophisticated approach to our environment. Given what we know of the damage Man has incurred upon the environment in the past centuries and the realisation on the part of many that something must be done to reverse it, there is little reason for the modern heathen not to have a concern about the environment. In other words, there is no reason that heathen cannot be “Green.”

Now am I not advocating that modern heathen sell their automobiles, switch from electric power to solar energy, or live like the Amish. But there are things I believe we can do to reduce the negative impact modern life has upon the environment. It can be as simple as recycling, using less electricity and gas, and planting as many trees as one can. Even small gestures such as these can help in reversing the damage Man had done to the environment in the past several centuries. Given that there is nothing in our theology teaching that nature is ours to exploit to our content, there is little reason we should not take steps to conserve it.

The Importance of Community in Human Happiness

Here in the United States it is not unusual for politicians, usually conservative, from time to time to point to the Fifties as an ideal period when family values were of paramount importance. Often when they do so they will cite a popular sitcom from the era, The Adventures of Ozzie and Harriet, as a prime example of how life should be. For those of you unfamiliar with the show, The Adventures of Ozzie and Harriet portrayed a nuclear family with a husband, a wife, and two sons living in the suburbs. If the Nelsons had any extended family, they apparently did not visit very often or play an active role in the nuclear family’s lives.

To me the idea of the Fifties as an idealised period of American history seems odd enough, but it always seemed odder still to me that conservative politicians would hold The Adventures of Ozzie and Harriet up as some of kind of ideal for the American family. You see, I grew up in a part of the country which was still in many ways part of the Old South when I was born. It was a place where it was not enough to have a nuclear family of a father, mother, and children. One’s extended family played an important role in one’s upbringing, as did one’s community. I grew up not just with my parents and siblings, but my aunts, uncles, and cousins, too, not to mention numerous neighbours. To me, then, The Adventures of Ozzie and Harriet not only seemed downright alien, but also downright unhealthy. If one is to idealise a sitcom, a better choice to me would have seemed The Andy Griffith Show , where the extended family and the community of Mayberry take an active interest in Andy’s son, Opie.

As it turns out, my thoughts on the matter could well be right. Many years ago, in the August 28, 1995 issue of Time

, there was an article entitled “The Evolution of Despair.” The article posited that much of modern man’s unhappiness lies in that modern society differs so radically from the environment in which man evolved. Among its arguments are that much of the cause for despair among modern man is the sheer social isolation that often exists in modern society. Many people today live alone, more than in the Forties (and I would presume more than at any time in history). This is contrasted with hunter-gatherer societies, where people live in close contact with family and friends for decades. Such societies are built on family networks and the intimacy that comes with them.

Of course, as the article points out, such primitive societies are victim to ills that modern man hardly has to worry about. Tribal warfare, famine, disease, things that the average person today will likely never encounter in his or her lifetime. But at the same time such primitive societies do not appear to have been victim to many of the ills of modern society. The article points out archaeologist Phillip Walker’s studies of bones from 5000 children from pre-industrial societies, some going back to 4000 BCE. He has yet to find evidence of the sorts of bruises that signal “battered child syndrome (as the article calls it).” The article points out that in modern times as many as one in 20 children who die between the ages of one and four would show such evidence. Walker theorised that because children were raised under the supervision of extended family such as aunts, uncles, grandparents, and friends, child abuse almost never occurred.

The article also points out that in hunter-gatherer societies working women have less of a problem reconciling work with child rearing than they would in the conservative politicians’ idealised “Ozzie and Harriet” suburbs. The reason is simply that whenever women are gathering food or performing whatever task, the children are either with them or with relatives and friends.

Beyond the rearing of children, such primitive societies seem to be healthier in other ways as well. According to the book Amish Society by John A. Hostetler, the rate of suicide among the Amish of Lancaster County, Pennsylvania, is less than a half that of other rural people in the area. Among the Amish, clinical depression is practically unknown. Anthropologists who have studied the Kaluli of New Guinea, a hunter-gatherer society, have found that depression is almost non-existent among them. In the instances of both the Amish and the Kaluli it would appear to be the fact that both live in close knit communities, where there is a wide social safety net for everyone, that makes depression and suicide so rare among them.

I rather suspect that if we could go back in time, we might discover the same to hold true for the ancient Germanic peoples. Like the Amish and the Kaluli, the Germanic peoples lived in close knit communities and the extended family played an important role in the individual’s life. In fact, the oldest of the laws of the Angles and Saxons in England tend to treat the individual less as the follower of a particular lord or king, much less a citizen of a particular of province, than as a member of an extended family or mæð. And it was kinship that was the determining factor in laws dealing with everything from marriage to oaths to the punishment of crimes (it was the mæð responsible for paying wergild when one of their members committed a crime). Quite simply, the mæð could be held accountable for the actions of any of its members. Given that ancient Germanic society resembles both that of the Amish and the Kaluli, it is safe to say that they probably saw similarly low rates of depression and suicide. And given how large the mæð loomed in the lives of individuals, they probably never lacked for child care (no need for daycare centres) and child abuse was probably rare at best.

Here I want to stress that I am not advocating that we return to the Stone Age, the Iron Age of the Germanic peoples, or even the pre-industrial conditions under which the Amish live. While I think many of us could live without DVD players, personal computers, and cell phones, we probably would not want to do without modern medicine, electric ovens, or air conditioning. I remember once actor Peter Ustinov was asked if he would like to have lived in ancient Rome. His response was simply, “I think I would have hated to have had a tooth ache.” I don’t think we would want to do without modern conveniences, many of which save lives and ease suffering.

Besides which, it seems to me that technology is not the problem. The problem is that our society has evolved in such a way that the extended family and community are less important. In fact, it has evolved so far away that the idea of a nuclear family of father, mother, and children living in the suburbs is considered the ideal situation. An abundance of evidence proves otherwise. Given the evidence, the odds of the Nelson children on The Adventures of Ozzie and Harriet growing up to suffer from depression and perhaps even commit suicide are extraordinarily higher than their near contemporary Opie on The Andy Griffith Show. The reason is simple. The Nelsons would have grown up in relative isolation in a suburb while Opie grew up in the loving arms and under the watchful eye of his extended family and the community of Mayberry. It is not the suburbs of the Fifties sitcoms that is ideal for human happiness, it is the small town of Norman Rockwell. Or of King Penda, for that matter.

Unfortunately, while the solution seems obvious, it is quite a different matter to implement it. Our society has evolved in such a way that most of our industry is located in the larger cities. It seems unlikely that people would be willing to move to smaller, closer knit communities because it would mean quitting their jobs. At the same time our society has evolved in such a way has to diminish the importance of the extended family. Work often requires people to move far from their birthplaces and they may not see aunts, uncles, and cousins for years at a time. Since the solution to the plight of modern man would mean closer knit extended families (the mæð of old) and living in small, close knit communities, it would mean making a sea shift in the very structure of our society. More work would have to be created in smaller communities and businesses would have to be more willing to accommodate not simply the schedule of the family, but the extended family as well. Unfortunately, I don’t see that happening. This is sad. While it may not mean disaster for modern man, it does mean his despair will continue.

It seems that at best all we can do as individuals is simply adjust our own lives to be more in line with those of our forebears. We should see to it that extended family plays a role in our lives. Let our parents, grandparents, aunts, and uncles be active in the lives of our children. We should seek to live in smaller, closer knit communities and take a part in those communities. While we might sacrifice financial gain in the short run, we might find that we have greater sanity and more happiness in the long run. And, ultimately, that would seem to be more important in life.

Wóden in Dreams and the Fine Art of Oneiromancy

Originally published in Théod Volume VI,
issue 2, Waelburges 1998The Maker of Dreams
The modern heathen making even a cursory examination of the elder sources is apt to learn one thing: our forebears placed great importance on the meaning of dreams. In the Eddic lay Baldrs Draumar (literally “Baldr’s dreams”) it is the nightmares that Baldr is experiencing which alerts the Ése (ON Æsir) that Baldr may be in danger. In Víga-Glúms Saga it is through a dream that Fréa (ON Freyr) makes his enmity to Glúm known. Throughout the elder sources dreams play a major role, so much that we can conclude that the elder heathen placed great importance upon their meaning.As the god of wisdom and a god who played a role in shaping man, including man’s soul, Wóden (ON Óðinn) would naturally seem to have a great deal to do with dreams. Indeed, one of his many names is Sváfnir, a name which can be interpreted both as “He Who Lulls to Sleep” or “He Who Lulls into Dreams.” Though the evidence for Wóden’s link to dreams is scant, we can perhaps conclude from this name that Wóden is “the maker of dreams,” a divine Sandman who does not use sand, but lulls human beings into dreams of a night nonetheless. As the “Master of Wód” and the god of such things as inspiration and poetry, it would only make sense if Wóden was the “Master of Dreams” as well.Unfortunately, we almost never see Wóden manifesting himself in dreams in any of the elder sources. This is curious, as other gods do. As noted above, Fréa appeared to Glúm in a dream. Similarly, in Flóamanna Saga, Þunor (ON Þórr)appeared to a Christian convert in a dream and told him that his journey would be a rough one unless the Christian turned to him. Yet Wóden maintains a curious silence with regards to dreams. When Wóden does appear to men it is in person, though often in disguise. As a tall one eyed old man, Wóden taught Harald Wartooth the military formation called svínfylking or “swine formation.” It was Wóden in the form of a ferryman who took the body of the slain Sinfjótli away. And for all the times Wóden appears in person, albeit often in disguise, to assist a hero or claim a hero for Valhöll, not once do we see Wóden appearing in a dream. Of course, Wóden is by far the wisest and wiliest of the gods, and just because he does not make cameo appearances in dreams does not mean he is not the god who ultimately directs them.

Wódenish Dreams in Elder SourcesEven though Wóden is curiously absent in most dreams portrayed in the elder sources, some of the dreams of which the scholars and saga writers wrote apparently bore his touch. Dreams featuring entities linked to Wóden appear in some of sagas. Similarly, other sagas feature dreams experienced by Wóden’s men. In both cases, it would seem likely that Wóden was the “wizard behind the screen,” orchestrating the content of these dreams.Among Wóden’s most prized possessions is the eight legged grey (sometimes also said to be white) horse called Sleipnir

. Though we are never explicitly told this, Sleipnir appears to have the ability to carry his rider past the gates of Hel and into the world of the dead. This can be seen in the Prose Edda, where Hermóðr rides Sleipnir to the underworld in order to beg Hel to free Baldr from her grasp. Sleipnir is also the swiftest of all horses and capable of galloping through the air and over the sea. That among Wóden’s most important possessions should be a horse ought to come as no surprise. Among several cultures around the world horses are linked to death and the underworld. Among the
Germanic peoples it was not unusual to bury horses with the dead–hundreds can be found in graves throughout Scandinavia alone. That the grey Sleipnir had eight legs makes him rather unusual for a horse, but at the same time a rather fitting symbol of death. In Gods and Myths of Northern Europe(pp. 142-143), H. R. Ellis Davidson interprets Sleipnir’s eight legs as symbolising the pallbearers (each with two legs for a total of eight) who carry the dead man to his funeral. As Sleipnir is a grey, it seems to make sense that grey horses would have a stronger link to death than horses of other colours. And as god of death, horses would naturally be sacred to Wóden.As a result, dreams as well as apparitions of grey horses are often believed to portend death. In Gísla Saga Súrssonar a woman mounted upon a grey horse appears to Gísli in a dream and calls him “home (that is, the afterlife).” In Sturlunga Saga, Guðrún Gjúdóttir returned from the dead riding on a grey horse, in a dream in which she foretold an impending disaster. In both dreams (although the latter took place in 1255, well after the Conversion of Iceland), we might wish to see the hand of Wóden. After all, in both dreamsit is upon a grey horse that an individual upon a grey horse foretells death. Considering the link between horses and death, hence the link between horses and Wóden, and the fact that Wóden’s own horse is grey, it seems only reasonable to assume that Wóden played some role in each of these dreams.Just as horses are linked to Wóden, so too are the class of goddess known as Wælcyrigen (ON Valkyrjur ). Indeed, the Wælcyrigen are often called the “handmaidens of Wóden.” It is their job to choose the battle slain in any battle and perhaps deliver them to Valhöll as well. And though today they are often romanticised as beautiful maidens who wait upon the battle slain n Valhöll, they have a more grisly side as well. The Wælcyrigen make an impressive appearance in a dream in Njáls Saga. This particular vision appeared shortly before the Battle of Clontarf, fought at Dublin in 1014 CE. In it a group of women wove upon a loom made of men’s entrails and weighted with severed heads. They filled in a background of grey spears with a woof of red. As they wove, the women sang a poem called the Daraðarljóð or “Spear Lay” in which they identified themselves as Wælcyrigen and described their duty to choose the slain. This dream would appear to be a rather Wódenish one. First, we have the appearance of the Wælcyrigen in the dream, who are a bit more savage than the stereotypical serving maid of Valhöll so often portrayed today. As stated above, the Wælcyrigen served Wóden in choosing the battle slain to go to Valhöll. Second, the weapon portrayed upon the web which they are weaving is the spear, a weapon particularly sacred to Wóden. Among Wóden’s possessions is numbered the spear Gungnir, one of many prizes forged by the dwarves. Sacrifices to Wóden appear to have been hanged and stabbed with a spear, apparently in imitation of his own sacrifice upon the World Tree to obtain the runes. Third, the subject matter of Daraðarljóð is not simply battle, but the mass death which occurs in battle. In the poem the Wælcyrigen describe the air as being red with men’s blood. All of these factors point to this dream having been inspired by Wóden, if not orchestrated by him as well.

Other dreams in the elder sources could also be considered Wódenish, in that the individuals who experience them are either followers of Wóden or linked to him in some way. An example of this can be found in the Poetic Edda’s “Brot of Sigurðarkviðu.” There Brynhild told of a dream in which her husband Gunnar rode, “fastened by fetters,” into an enemyarmy. This dream foresaw Gunnar’s death in Atli’s court, told in Atlakviða and other sources of the Sigurðr mythos. Of course, Brynhild was no mere woman. According to the Sigurðr myths she was a Wælcyrige (ON Valkyrja) who awarded victory to the wrong man and was so punished by being placed atop a mountain, where only the bravest of men could awaken her. Brynhild, then, has a very strong link to Wóden as one of his former “handmaidens” and her dream could probably be considered Wódenish.This becomes more likely when one considers the subject matter of the dream–thedeath of a king in the court of his enemies. The dream’s subject matter would then appear to be suitably Wódenish as well.

Many scholars have put forth the theory that the Víga-Glúm of Víga-Glúms Saga was a Wóden’s man. The family of Glúm’s father were worshippers of Fréa, yet there is an
incident in which Glúm visits his maternal grandfather, Vígfuss, who gives him a spear, a cloak, and a sword. He tells him that as long as he keeps these items he would maintain his power. And it is only after he gives away these items that his enemies conquer him. Of course, the spear and the cloak are items linked quite strongly to Wóden, the cloaked god who hanged upon the Tree wounded by a spear. From this it would appear that Glúm had converted to the cult of Wóden.; indeed, afterwards he seems to behave more as a follower of Wóden than follower of Fréa (it must be stressed that this is not what placed Glúm on bad terms with Fréa, but rather killing a man on ground holy to the god–a mistake no wise Wóden’s man should have made). We are told that when Vígfuss died, his hamingja (either his luck or his fetch), seen in a dream as a gigantic woman, went to Iceland to join Glúm. This dream, portraying the transferral of a forebear’s luck or fetch (or both, for that matter) to his descendant, could possibly be linked to Wóden. After all, prior to his death, Vígfuss gave Glúm symbols of Wóden–the spear and the cloak–upon which Glúm’s power depended. The transferral of Vígfuss’s luck or fetch to Glúm could be considered the final part of a Wódenish legacy from grandfather to grandson. The dream, then, could possibly be considered Wódenish in nature.

Of course, it is impossible to know for certain whether any of the dreams cited above originated from Wóden himself or if it was a simple case of unconscious thoughts of the One-Eyed God manifesting themselves in the form of dreams. Either way, all of these dreams held some significance for the dreamers and in many cases they involve symbols which are undeniably linked to the god.

Creative DreamingIn all of the above cases, the dreams each individual had simply occurred spontaneously without any act of will on the part of the individual. It would then seem that the average heathen would be at the mercy of random happenstance with regards to receiving knowledge from dreams. Fortunately, this does not appear to have been the case, as shown by both folklore regarding dreams and the elder sources.For instance, an old superstition holds that dreams experienced on holidays or before important events (such as weddings or battles) held more significance than dreams experienced at other times. An example of this from the dreams cited above is the dream of the Wælcyrigen experienced before the Battle of Clontarf, which proved significant for those involved in the battle. Similarly, dreams had on the nights of holidays have traditionally been regarded as being more prophetic than other dreams. An old superstition is that the dreams one has each night of Yule may forecast what is to come in each of the twelve months of the next year.While important events and holidays could bring significant dreams, however, the elder heathen were not entirely at the mercy of the time of year in inducing such dreams. Various sorts of dreams could also be induced through the use of various herbs as well. Among the most famous examples of this is mugwort, which when used to stuff a pillow could open the mind to particularly prophetic dreams. Many modern heathen have experimented with the use of galdors and runestaves to induce particular sorts of dreams as well. Though none of the elder sources mention this practice as having occurred in ancient times, considering the extremely varied uses to which galdors and runestaves were put in ancient times there is no particular reason to assume that this particular usage is not a valid one.Another example of inducing a particular sort of dream can be found in Flateyjarbók. There a man wishing to learn poetry slept upon the mound of a dead poet. In a dream the dead man within the mound appeared to him and taught him a poetic verse. Afterwards the man could compose poetry as well as any skald.This incident demonstrates two factors which might be important in obtaining the sort of dreams one wants. First, the place where one sleeps and dreams could be significant in the sort of dreams one has. Obviously, the man wishing to become a poet had a greater chance of learning poetry sleeping on the mound of a dead poet than he would have had sleeping in his bed at home. Of course, this points to a belief common to many peoples, among them the ancient Greeks, that sleeping in holy places, such as temples, could induce particularly prophetic dreams. Sleeping on a burial mound would seem to be a variation on this theme. Second, the dead can bring knowledge to the living by way of dreams. It is significant that that the man wanting to learn poetry did not learn it through some dream symbols or something of the like, but rather was taught it by the dead poet buried within the mound. Third, it would appear that to some degree the individual could by sheer force of will determine the content of his dreams. After all, the man who slept on the dead poet’s grave wished to learn poetry. It would seem reasonable to assume then that even as he bedded down atop the dead poet’s burial mound that he would have been focusing on his desire to learn poetry in order to make clear his intention of dreaming such.

This instance of sleeping on a dead poet’s mound to obtain knowledge should probably not be considered the same as the various instances of summoning the dead for knowledge (such as those which appear in Völuspá or Gróagaldr) or instances of sitting out to commune with the wights. The former, though similar to the incident of dreaming on a dead poet’s mound in Flateyjarbók, differs in that in these incidents the individual (such as Svípdagr in Gróagaldr ), usually recited a galdor with which to call

forth the dead person and the the individual is apparently awake or, at least, entranced throughout the entire act of communing with the dead. The man desiring to learn poetry apparently did not sing a galdor prior to the act of sleeping on the mound and was quite obviously asleep and dreaming when he communed with the dead poet. The latter practice of communing with wights appears to have been linked with the act of shapeshifting. In these incidents, whether the person was considered to be asleep or entranced, the individual appears to have sent his soul forth to join others or to communicate with such wights as trolls. It is just this practice which is condemned in the Potentiale Ecclesiarum Germaniæ (Corrector), a penitential written in the 10th or `11th century. The individual in Flateyjarbók apparently did not send his soul forth to meet with the dead, but rather the dead poet appeared in a dream which the individual had. Though similar in some respects to the practice of shapeshifting to commune with “spirits,” it is also fundamentally
different.

We know from the elder sources that dreams sometimes held great significance. We know that many of these dreams may have been touched by Wóden himself or at least inspired by him on an unconscious level. We also know that the individual could influence the sorts of dreams he might have on a given night. Dreams experienced on a holy tide or before an important night were known to have more significance than dreams experienced at other times. Similarly, the individual could influence dreams through the use of herbs, galdor, runestaves, or even the choice of where he was to sleep. The modern heathen can then to some degree determine the content of his dreams, their “theme” if you will, and obtain the knowledge he needs from them. Considering the importance that the elder heathen placed upon dreams, there is no reason for us not to do so.

© 1998 Eric Wódening