Week 6: The Earth is Full of Life

Ah, the earth.  Is there anything more ubiquitous in modern Paganism?  Many, if not most, Pagans will use terms like 'earth-centered' or 'nature honoring' to describe their religion or practice; and those who do not usually make a point of letting people know since it's such a common assumption.  I also identify as having an earth-centered spiritual path; but this means something a bit different to me than many Pagans.

Rather than a pantheistic view of the earth as mother-of-all, all-encompassing Goddess, my idea of honoring the earth is a recognition of the incredibly varied tapestry of spirits that dwell on and within it.  The Goddess I am dedicated to, Nerthus, is typically described as an earth mother; but this is not the best descriptor for Her.  She is not found in all places with dirt, or indoors, without being called or welcomed there.  I also honor other deities with ties to the earth or planting and cultivation: Freyr, Gerda, Gefjon, and others.

In addition to the deities, there is a whole world of spirits to welcome and build relationships with.  The altar I've built in my garden specifically honors a tree Goddess, while also acting as a shrine for many of the land wights - earthworms, squirrels, tree spirits, the local river Goddess, etc.  These relationships make up a huge part of my personal spiritual practice, forming the backbone of how I relate to the world around me.  Learning to identify each individual voice in the chorus of wights that make up the land around me was a huge challenge as I moved from a pantheistic worldview to a more animistic one, but it was a challenge that broadened my spiritual horizons hugely.

As I prepare to plant my garden this spring, I also continue to build relationship with the many wights that dwell in and pass through this land.  It's a blend of the concept of getting out and experiencing the land and spiritual appreciation of the many beings that share this home with me.  The earth is alive with many spirits, many stories, many personalities that are all worthy of attention.

A Yule Toast to the Gods of Peace and Good Seasons

photo courtesy of wikicommons

The Saga of Hákon the Good was written sometime in the 1260's, describing the reign of King Hákon I, who took the throne in 1217 and died in 1263.  There is a lot of interesting Heathen details scattered throughout this work, which talks about the time of transition from Pagan beliefs into Christianity for Norway.  But one of the gems is the description of a Yule ritual, at which a feast is eaten and offered to the Gods, and many toasts are drunk to the deities.  The ritual I have written here is an attempt to give form to the rather dry writing of the Saga, but certainly shouldn't be mistaken for a historically accurate representation!

Gather your holy liquid - either mead or water depending on how sticky you want things to get!  Say a prayer over the liquid, such as:


"This water is consecrated to the Gods, the wights, and my ancestors who watch over my steps.  May it please the spirits and make holy all it touches."

In the Saga, the liquid is sprinkled over the altars, the gathered people, and both the inside and outside of the temple.  For my celebration, I sprinkle my indoor altar, the thresholds of my home, and around the trees and garden - do whatever feels right for your home or gathering.  Repeat while sprinkling:
"Hail to the Gods and Goddesses.  Hail to the wights of the land.  Hail to my ancestors of blood and spirit.  Make this place sacred by your hand."

 Once you are finished, come to your table or hearth and set the remainder of the liquid aside.  Sit down to feast and offer it to the spirits, saying:
"This feast is consecrated to the Gods, the wights, and my ancestors who watch over my steps.  Thank you for your bounty."



Pour out a glass of whatever you are drinking - I always find that mead is beloved of many of the northern Gods and spirits, but fresh water is also appreciated by deities of the earth.  Lift it in a toast, saying:
"Hail Odhinn, the one-eyed wanderer, giver of Runic knowledge: for success and victory in the year to come, I ask You!" Drink the toast.

Pour another and say:
"Hail Njord, God of the waters, giver of bounty: for prosperity and a good season in the year to come, I ask You!"  Drink the toast.

Pour another and say:
"Hail Frey, married to the land, bringing peace in Your wagon: for joy and bounty in the year to come, I ask you!"  Drink the toast.



Pour another and say:
"Hail the Hidden folk, landvaettir and wights who dwell in this place: for friendship and peace in the year to come, I ask you!"  Drink the toast.

Pour another and say:
"Hail my Ancestors and departed friends, who are remembered on this night: stay with me in the year to come, I ask you!"  Drink the toast.

Outside or on your altar, leave a plate of food and pour out the consecrated liquid for the deities and spirits.  Say a quick ending prayer, such as:
"Gods and Goddesses, wights of the land, beloved dead who watch my steps, thank you for all you have done for me this past year.  Pour out your blessings in the new year as I pour out offerings to you.  Hail!"

G is for Garden

Thank goodness for being able to schedule posts, because I've been pretty absent over the past couple of weeks.  Between illness in the family and the loss of someone I'd grown up with but hadn't seen for quite awhile, I haven't really been up to writing.  But here I am, getting some words out into web.

This week I'd like to write about gardens, and how gardening is my most satisfying expression of my Paganism.  My patron Goddess is Nerthus, whom Tacitus in his Germania called the Earth Mother of Suebi tribes.  Though She is a complicated deity, and has many influences and interests outside of green and growing things, it is the primary way I encounter and honor Her.  Not only is She very present in the act of gardening; but in replacing generic green grass with plants that give food and support to both humans and animals, I feel the affirmation and appreciation of the local land wights as well.  After caring for my garden for a few years, I have become very close to the spirit of the soil there.

The first step to a good garden is clearing and preparing the earth.  It is in this step that I feel closest to the primal Earth.  Coming to gardening without knowing anything about it, I assumed the soil before planting would be pretty boring, requiring only a few holes and seeds to bring it to life.  But the truth is that the soil is already alive!  Each spade turned over reveals beetles and earthworms, centipedes and pill bugs, living off of and giving life to the decayed matter that makes up a large part of a garden's earth.  Working compost into the soil gives even more life, adding fuel to the biological processes that are already taking place, providing nutrients to feed an already thriving, but tiny, ecosystem.  The soil itself has a life to it - the feel, the texture, the smell, is different in every location.  Here in Nebraska, my soil is rather dense and clay-like, difficult to break apart and plant in; after a lot of shoveling and a bit of compost, it becomes more like the black, rich dirt we instinctively know is right for planting.

The next step is putting in the seeds, and watching over them while they sprout and begin to grow.  This is perhaps one of the most exciting times in the garden - growth is fast, new leaves are added every day, and the hard work of the gardener is quickly on display.  It's also one of the most magical.  It seems almost impossible that such large plants, such vibrant life, could come from such tiny seeds.  As each plant grows, its own unique personality and uses can be seen.  Some are showy and bright, spreading wide and tall, with beautiful flowers.  Some are more inclined to grow close to the ground, with just small green leaves to show their presence.  Some guzzle down the water from the rains, and some seem to prefer a drier summer.  Getting to know the plants, their ways of growth and their preferred conditions, has been my biggest and most rewarding challenge as a gardener.

Here in Nebraska, for many fruit-bearing plants, after the planting and initial growth comes a long summer full of watering, weeding, and various garden-care tasks that can seem to stretch on forever with little result.  Growth has slowed and become less apparent (though those plants are certainly still growing!) and pests move in that can be difficult to drive off.  Flowers come and go, and it's not until August or even September that tomatoes, peppers, and others are big and ripe enough to be harvested.  I always tell my children this is the season of patience - if we continue to put in the work and care for what we've planted, we will reap the rewards in the fall; but if we forget or put it off as sometimes happens, the little lives we are responsible for can suffer greatly.  During this time, I see the plants almost like another part of the family.  I am responsible for their care, for their well-being.

And then in the fall, we are richly rewarded with a lovely harvest.  There's nothing like biting into a tomato gifted from a plant that has received offerings of water and care through many months, warmed by the sun and fed by the cool earth.  After those glorious few weeks, the frost sets in, and it's time to pull up the annuals and trim the perennials, and place them on the compost pile to give life to next year's garden.  This process, repeated year after year, has attuned me not only to the local seasonal cycle but to the tiny ecosystem that fills the world of my backyard.  This intimate knowledge, this camaraderie built with giving and receiving over the years, feels more Pagan to me than anything else I do in my practice.

Charming of the Plow

This past Saturday, my children and I gathered in the garden to perform an old Anglo-Saxon ritual - the Æcerbot, first recorded in the 11th century.  As recorded, it is rather Pagan with a thin Christian veneer; but it has become a seasonal celebration for us because of a passing mention by the Venerable Bede in De Temporum Ratione in 725.  In the passage, he describes the month Solmōnaþ, roughly equivalent with our February and beginning and ending on the new moon.  He translates the name as "cake-month", because he says that the English would offer them to their Gods in that month.  Fast-forward to the Æcerbot a few centuries later, and we see that the ritual calls for digging a furrow in the garden to be planted, and offering cakes to Mother Earth.  And so, we celebrate this holiday - called the Charming of the Plow because it is a common Heathen name for holidays at this time of year, and because the original Æcerbot ritual does just that.  I like to position the holiday and corresponding ritual near the full moon of February; it seems like the best way to condense what may have been a month-long practice into one holiday.  Here is my re-Paganised (and slightly simplified for modern life) version of the ritual:

After sunset on the night of the full moon, go out and dig four small holes in the four corners of the garden, saving the soil.  Mix together oil, honey, and yeast.  If you have any perennial herbs or plants, use twigs from those to drip the mixture onto the soul three times; otherwise, use twigs gathered from nearby trees, saying this each of the three times:

"Grow mightily and fill this earth with fruits; Nerthus bless this soil with your great power."

After that, leave the soil out in a sacred place overnight - perhaps at the foot of a mighty tree or a nearby creek.

The next day, write or inscribe the rune Berkana onto each of the four twigs reserved for this purpose.  Place one into the bottom of each hole, putting the soil back into place, and saying "Grow" nine times over each hole.

In the center of the garden, stretch your arms to the sky and turn clockwise three times, keeping your face lifted to the sky.  Say:

"This soil is filled with plenty.  May its fruitfulness nourish the bodies of me and mine, and may my efforts give honor to the spirits of this place, the land wights, and the Earth, mother of all."

Take some seeds that you are planning to use in that land, and place them in a bowl on the soil before you.  Then say (feel free to substitute some of your own plants for those listed):

"Erce, Erce, Erce, earth's mother,

May Nerthus grant you
fields growing and flourishing,
propagating and strengthening,
tall shafts, bright crops,
and red tomato crops,
and soft sage crops,
and all earth's crops.
May Nerthus grant you
that your produce be guarded against any enemies,
and that it be kept safe from harm,
from poisons sown around the land.
Now I bid the Mother, who shaped this world,
that none shall overturn the words thus spoken."

Dig up a small portion of the land - or more, if you are planning to plant that day - and say:

"Whole may you be Earth, mother of men!
May you be ever-growing and ever-fruitful,
with food filled for the needs of me and mine."

Placing the cake in the soil, just as you would normally plant seeds, say:

"Field full of food for me and mine,
bright-blooming, you are blessed
in the holy name of the one who gives all fruitfulness,
the Earth on which we live;
Nerthus, the one who made the ground,
grant us the gift of growing,
that for us each fruit and leaf might come to use.

Then say three times: "Grow, in the name of Nerthus, be blessed."

Supplies:

Spade or shovel
bucket or container for soil
oil
honey
yeast
twigs from perennial herbs or trees on property
four twigs or small branches to use as rune staves
a few early seeds or bulbs for planting, or seeds for later planting if seasonally appropriate
cakes - these can be either like pancakes or cookies, but flavored with honey rather than sugar

Here's a possible recipe for the cakes, based on a recipe from New Varangian Guard, a re-enactment society in Australia:

Honey Shortbread

1 cup flour

1/4 cup corn starch

3/4 cup butter, softened

1/2 cup honey

Mix the ingredients and form a dough, spoon into a well-greased pan.

Bake at 325 for 30 minutes, let cool and cut into pieces.

B is for Birch

Photo by Cassi Saari.  Creative Commons license.

I have always had a closeness with birch trees.  The stark white bark of many varieties is strikingly beautiful, especially in the midwest where colors rarely vary from green or brown.  I first began to take special note of them when reading JRR Tolkien's The Silmarillion, specifically his myth of the Two Trees, one gold and one silver.  From the silver tree descended the White Tree of Gondor, and my youthful mind conjectured all birch trees must have come from that noble line.  Later, as I began learning more Germanic and Celtic lore, I noticed the birch tree figured in cultures' lettering systems.

Proto-Germanic Rune Berkanan

The birch is repeatedly associated with birth and new beginnings in both Germanic and Celtic cultures, and this is intrinsically tied to the mundane nature of the tree.  They are known as a pioneer species: when a forest fire or other natural disaster happens, the birch tree is one of the first trees to colonize the bare land.  In grazing pastures or open areas, birch seedlings are those cleared most often.  We can see this reflected in the meaning of both the Proto-Germanic rune Berkanan, as well as the Ogham letter Beith.  The pure white bark of the birch, combined with its association with fire-cleared land, explain why it is believed by many to be a purifying tree.  Its rapid colonization of bare land tells us why this tree is associated with birth and new life.  As above, so below is an ancient concept: what a thing does in the mundane world is a good representation of its function on the spiritual or magical plane.

In Lebor Ogaim, also known as the Ogham Tract, is at least as old as 1390; and it tells an account of Ogma's invention of the Ogham alphabet.  Seven Beiths inscribed on a birch tree was the very first message ever recorded using the Ogham script.

The symbolism of purity and new beginnings as embodied in the birch tree has not stayed solely in the realm of Celtic or Germanic Pagans, but has become a symbol recognized by many under the Pagan umbrella.  It has also become strongly associated with mother-type Goddesses, but there is no evidence to suggest that Goddesses such as Brigid or Frige were ever explicitly linked with the birch tree.  The theory that Berkanan's shape is a pictogram for a pair of breasts is probably also nothing but conjecture, considering that its shape was likely adopted from a Latin letter which as far as we know had no relation either to the birch tree or the concept of motherhood.  Nonetheless, it has become so ingrained in Neo-Pagan culture that it is worth acknowledging that this symbolism is helpful to many people.

As with all nature spirits, my opinion is that the best way to get a feel for its energies or to bring its spirit into your life is to go out and get to know one!  Birch trees are often used as an ornamental tree here in the midwest, and so are easily found in public parks or arboretums; I advise finding a particular one that seems most open to interaction.  I find offerings of water are often appreciated by tree spirits, but you may want to bring only a poem or song depending on where the tree is located.  If nothing else, they are fascinating trees to study, and a Pagan can rarely go wrong spending some time beneath trees!

T is for Temple

Alright, so Stonehenge may not have been a temple (we don't really know), and it certainly wasn't a Druid temple, but it's still the most easily-recognized and impactful image of pre-Christian European worship.  Ritual for Celtic and Germanic Pagans seems to fit best under the stars, out in the open or within a sacred grove of trees.  This is something that I want very much for myself - a permanent area of outdoor worship, that I can use for its intended purpose and also isn't altogether obvious to visiting relatives or passers-by!

There is a large area in my backyard that was once a garden, but the previous owner let it go and it has collected a great deal of weeds and other detritus.  Last winter we put tarp over a lot of it, and this winter we'll be tarping over the rest to prevent weeds coming up in the spring.  And then, next spring, I plan to begin the "construction" of my own temple.  I put construction in quotes, as there will be a lot more growing and planting involved then actual building!

The area is square, but I will be bricking off a small circular area in the center to be the main ritual site.  Inside the circle will be a decorative pole (Sacred Tree in ADF), and at its foot will be a small birdbath (the Well for my ADF rituals), and a space for my larger cauldron that I also use as a small fire pit.  Outside this circle will be a small circular bricked path, which will branch out like the spokes of a wheel, and it will be between the spokes that my garden will be growing.  What I'm most excited about is imitating Stonehenge and other solar-aligned standing stones by building an astrological garden into the plans.  For this I'll use small bricks that will mark the shadow of the pole at sunrise, noon, and sunset on the solstices and equinoxes; which should add up to nine bricks; they'll be inscribed with runes or ogham and half-buried.  They'll be small and unobtrusive, but will represent a long-time project, and will connect my own little temple with the many that have come before.  It will be relatively small, and probably wouldn't support a group larger than my children and I, but I think on its completion, it will be worthy of the name temple.

Obviously, not everyone has the time or the resources to make their own outdoor temple, and I can't even begin to express how blessed I feel to be able to do this.  I hope my plans have been inspiring to some of you, and that you can find a way to make your own space into sacred space!

Sources: The 2012 Farmer's Almanac, on astrological gardens

Perfect Fall Day

It's beautiful outside today - a lovely 60 degrees with a clear blue sky as far as the eye can see.  The eggplants are all ready for harvesting, and the tomatoes are beginning to ripen - the branches are hanging down almost to the ground, covered with fruit!  It's the time of year for long walks, raking leaves, and finishing up all the yardwork summer left undone.  Mabon is right around the corner!  It's September 22nd this year, so we'll have a nice open Saturday for celebrations.

Preparing for Mabon

The nights are becoming a bit longer, the days a bit shorter.  Here on the prairie, we've been watching the canadian geese and many other birds pass us by on their way south.  My extremely late-planted garden is finally yielding a harvest, and even some of the trees are yellowing a bit.  There's no denying it: Fall is upon us.

Maybe it's because fall is not my favorite season - I have trouble seeing the good in cold weather, and no matter how hot it's been I miss summer already!  Maybe it's because this is my first year really gardening and providing part of my own subsistence.  Whatever it is, I have a really hard time distinguishing between the holidays of Lughnasadh and Mabon.  Sure, Lughnasadh is the bread feast while Mabon is more about fruits and veggies, but to me it's never been enough of a difference to really set the two holidays apart.  So this Mabon will be my attempt to really appreciate the holiday in a way that is separate and distinct from the first of the Harvest holidays.


First of all, and most importantly, this year my feast will have fruits and veggies from my own garden.  There's nothing better than homegrown tomatoes, and I plan to make good use of them.  Homemade veggie pizza is on the menu, and hopefully my bell peppers will start fruiting in time to be included!  All this feasting is very similar to Lughnasadh, and honestly if I'd have gotten my plants in the ground earlier, they'd probably be ready for a first harvest closer to the first of August than September.

I recently was reminded of the liminal between-ness of the equinoxes, and I'm hoping to really recognize that this year.  Samhain is traditionally the feast of the ancestors, spoken of as the festival where the veil between our world and theirs is the thinnest; but perhaps Mabon can be thought of as sort of the twilight before Samhain's full darkness.  The light thins and comes through only in slanting rays, as all the colors mix together and the world goes in to a soft-focus of sorts.  Whereas Samhain is for the ancestors, and Lughnasadh seems uniquely fitted to celebrating the nature spirits, perhaps Mabon is the perfect holiday for really getting in touch with the gods and goddesses.  In my tradition, before the sun or moon were placed in the sky light came from another source, one that never really rose or set but instead faded in and out between silver and gold.  The world was bathed in the same half-light that I imagine Mabon represents.  So for me, I want to establish this holiday as reminiscent of that same time, when the gods and goddesses walked under the trees and helped to shape the world.

On Re-entering Formal Spirituality

It's a boy!  That's right - the reason I've been incommunicado for so long was the trials and travails of dealing with the last few months of pregnancy; unfortunately fraught with way too much worry and stress.  Gladly, my little boy ended up coming early but not-too-early, and now he's happily at home adjusting to the crazy life that is a five-person household.  While several posts may be forthcoming discussing the spirituality inherent in pregnancy, childbirth, and parenting; that's not what this post is for.  

I miss my spirituality!  Before my medical issues began, I was up (mostly) every morning doing my devotionals, spent the children's naptime working on meditation, and was generally quite in-tune with my Druid path.  With the coming of stress and concern, however, I quickly retreated back to my fairly vague Wiccish practices, seeking comfort in something familiar.  And while I believe the magick I worked in that time was a great help - it's not really fulfilling my heart or helping me to grow as a person.  And so, after many months, I'm attempting to ease myself back on to the Druid path I love so much.

Not to say that I haven't been busy with quite a bit of informal spirituality.  My garden, that I firmly resolved to complete this year, is nowhere near completion - but I am actually making progress, which is much better than previous years!  My container herbs are thriving, and there's fruit bushes on my porch waiting to be introduced to the huge garden in back, once the weeds are finally under control.  They've been mowed down and covered with a tarp - I'm hoping it will be enough to tame them!  I'm eager to get to planting.

All this time spent out of doors and with the spirits of the land around me has been incredibly eye-opening.  No, I haven't been working with my God/desses, but my connection to the nature spirits and to my ancestors has never been stronger!  While I honestly mourn the loss of so much plant life in my back yard (one reason I'd been procrastinating, I believe) the thought of being able to have plants that I've planted and cared for fill up that space is just amazing to me; not to mention that hopefully one day it will supply all our produce needs for the whole summer.  As for the ancestors, my closeness to them this summer is due to several factors.  I recently attended a family reunion that traced our common lineage back to an immigrant from Germany - not too long ago, he was my Great-Great-Grandfather.  Though much of my extended family has moved on, I and my family still live within a few miles of where he first settled so many years ago.  Though it is a very short span of time in the life of the nature spirits here, I feel it is very important - my family has been a stable presence here, and because of a love of nature that runs like brown hair in our genes, I believe that we have always been very close with these land spirits, and I am so glad to continue honoring that tradition.

I am very glad of my recent growth; but with all that said, I am eager to get back to my formal practice.  While I do feel very connected, I don't feel as if I'm being challenged as a person - perhaps that is the job of the God/desses I've been ignoring these past few months.  The first step is restarting daily devotions - not as easy with three children, especially since the little one still has me getting up every two hours - but I feel it's very important to my growth, and I'm going to try my hardest to make time for it.