Jewellery - Pros and Cons of Wearing Religious Symbols

Quite a lot of religious people of any denomination choose to wear symbols of your faith, either permanently or for special occasions – e.g. a hammer when you’re a Heathen, a cross when you’re a Christian, etc. 

 For today’s post, I’d like to delve a bit deeper into the reason of why people decide to wear such jewellery. There’s also an interesting aspect of why people choose to have their faith’s symbols tattooed onto their skin, but we’ll get there in my “T” post.

One of the reasons why I think wearing religious jewellery is a nice idea is that it helps others of the same faith to identify each-other – we see somebody also wearing a hammer and we might have been lucky to meet another heathen (however, s/he could just be into metal, but I’ll get there later).

Secondly, and this is quite an ambivalent point, wearing these symbols gives away important information about you. Just like with the way you dress, or you wear your hair, by wearing religious jewellery you inform your surroundings about where you’d like to be placed, i.e. in which box they should put you. Generally, people love categorizing things and people in boxes, since it helps them to make sense of the world around them (Pendry 2007: 114). For example, if you’re starting work in a lawyer’s office today, you might infer that the nice, well-groomed lady in a suit is a potential colleague, and that the lady in a normal dress who’s kneading her tissue in her hand is a potential client. Thus, forming categories of the world helps us to understand it and to react to other people. And if I can influence this process for others to understand me better and to get a more accurate picture of myself, so be it. Hence, I wear a hammer every so often, and I dress mostly in black, jeans, leather and biker boots, cause I’d rather be seen as a Helena Bonham Carter-esque rebel than as somebody who conforms to all of society’s rules.

 Helena Bonham Carter - this is the box I'd happily be put into

However – and I feel this is an issue needing to be stressed – wearing religious symbols can backfire terribly. Coming back to the situation when you meet this nice heathen fellow, you might be disappointed to realize the only thing they know about Odin is what was in that song by Manowar, and that they just donned the necklace because they found it was cool or because it was pictured on an album cover they liked. The same happens – and I believe far more often – with Celtic symbols. But then again, usually you don’t go up to random people in the street and start talking about the Goddess just because they are wearing a Celtic pendant. A more problematic issue is when people see the symbol you’re wearing and automatically class you as “evil,” “bad” or what-have-you and don’t bother to get to know you personally. This is sad, but that wouldn’t stop me from wearing a hammer – people like this would quite as easily find another reason why I don’t confirm to their standards, and I have no intention of changing myself to confirm to somebody else’s ideal of a human being.

On the other hand, wearing religious jewellery can help educate people about our faith. Around the time the first Thor movie was out, I went to a friend’s birthday party. Somebody saw my necklace, inquired about it, and suddenly we had a very nice, very enlightening discussion about paganism and what it means to the individual. I think that explaining to this one man what paganism was doesn’t change the world, but at least there will be one more individual who knows about us and that we don’t eat little children. So if all of this can be achieved simply by wearing a necklace, I’m all for it.

Can wearing a hammer pendant help people understand that Thor isn't like in the movies?

 However, I feel there are places where religion doesn’t really belong. In your free time, you can wear whatever you like, but just as there are dress codes for some jobs (think of them whatever you will; I don’t think most of them are necessary, apart from when the health of patients is concerned) I think there are situations where religion doesn’t have to play a role. In my workplace, for instance, we’re all about football, but I wouldn’t expect anyone to turn up in the morning wearing their team’s jersey, because ultimately, you come to the workplace to work, do your job well, and not to proselytize.

I’m by no means suggesting that religious discussions should be kept from the workplace – it’s only I feel that, especially when you’re new in your position like myself at the moment – non-committal subjects like football are safer and easier to talk about (you may strongly identify with your team, but religion usually goes much deeper than that). Thus, I’d suggest wearing smaller, less obtrusive versions of your chosen symbols. For example, I have this huge bronze hammer pendant, which is really very obviously pagan from a mile away; since I feel this is a bit much for work, I’m looking for a smaller, silver version at the moment.

Another thing that crossed my mind is that sometimes, your symbol of choice can be quite easily mistaken for something else. This happens quite often with pentacles, so be prepared that people might think you’re either Jewish or a Satanist, and be prepared to give a short, easy explanation why you’re neither and what your faith means for you.

 people sometimes do mistake this Star of David for a pentacle, so be prepared to explain what your faith means

 

Finally, if you’re unsure about whether your friends, relatives or colleagues would approve of you wearing a religious symbol, you might also want to consider wearing jewellery that is meaningful to you and your faith without openly stating it, so to speak (this might especially be important for teens living with a family of another faith). For instance, I’m wearing a braided leather bracelet that connects me to Odin – it doesn’t say “Heathen” straight away, and I can wear it to work without people commenting on my faith when I’m not ready or willing to discuss it (as I said, we’re all about football in the company, so I’d rather spend my break discussing the latest match instead of religion). Others might have a special set of earrings in the colour associated with their deity, or an item they bought while on holiday in their chosen deity’s country. I’ve also heard of objects blessed for specific purposes, let’s say being able to stay calm when dealing with customers, and worn to work. Those don’t have to look magical at all, but knowing they’re there might give you that push to get through the day without shouting at anyone.

So what do you do? Do you wear a symbol of your faith at all? Would others be able to recognize it? I’m assuming that, at least in Germany, if somebody wore a valknut most people would rather think they were supporting the German Football Association than that they are a devotee to Odin.

Or do you think that advertising a minority faith is too risky in your environment? I’m very interested to hear different opinions!

 

 

Blessed be,

Harzgeist

Sources:
Pendry, Louise. 2007. „Soziale Kognition.“ In: Stroebe, W., Hewstone, M., Jonas, K. (Hrgs.): Sozialpsychologie. 5. Aufl. Heidelberg: Springer, 111-145. [German edition]

Manowar - Sons of Odin: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a8XIW_jUa-k

Pentacle: http://www.earthly-gems.co.uk/acatalog/pentacle-pendant-26110-1lge.gif

Thor's Hammer: http://www.jelldragon.com/images/sn_thors_hammer_necklace_1.jpg 

Helena Bonham Carter: http://www.freewebs.com/thedemonbarberoffleetstreet/Helena02.jpg

Thor movie: http://vervemedia.org.uk/wp-content/uploads/2011/09/Manchesters-Finest_thor-movie-440x326.jpg

DFB (German Football Association) logo: http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/de/c/c0/DFB-Logo.svg

Inspiration and Identity

A lot of Pagans I’ve encountered like to give offerings to our Gods – some offer physical objects, like wine and mead, some offer crafts they’ve created, like altar cloths, and some offer their talent, like singers. Being a writer, I do the latter. 

When you’re working in a creative field yourself, maybe you’ve also felt this sudden pull to take that notebook or sketch pad and paint or write down this unexpected new idea. Perhaps you – just like me – have wondered where these ideas, this art of ours comes from. 

Clearly, some of it is inspired by other works of art I encounter. When I was still at school, I read a lot – about one to two novels a week. Today, I don’t have as much free time, but I still try to read as much as I can, at least the new works of my favourite writers. And I attend a Creative Writing course once a week, where I can present my writing, get feedback and also get new ideas. But one question still remains: Where does this divine spark to create something new come from? 

I like to think about this in terms of my muse (cf. King 2000): He lives in an old, run-down changing room in a theatre (don’t ask me why he likes to hang out there; but I’ve never seen him anywhere else). He looks a little like Jim Morrison, with wavy brown curls, and always wears a white v-necked shirt and faded blue jeans. When he helps me out with a story, I pay him in whiskey or similar hard alcohol. But I have to keep up my part of the bargain – when he sends me that inspiration, I have to write it down and acknowledge it, even if it means getting up at 3am and searching for a pen and notebook. 

 You could say that when I’m talking to my muse, what I’m essentially doing is talking to my own subconscious which, for some unfathomable reason, likes to dress up as Jim Morrison’s look-alike. But be that as it may, I wonder how our Gods feature in this process. After all, Odin grants the mead of poetic inspiration; in the Celtic pantheon, Brighid is associated with the “fire in the head” of inspiration (also see my B post on Her). However, when I’m writing I’ve seriously never felt Their presence, even if the work I produce is about Them.

So while I see writing as an integral part of myself (hence the Identity title), I still don’t know what makes me, or rather, what drives me to write. What I know, however,  is how to write and how to be inspired. 

So how can we make inspiration flow (cf. Myers 2008: 477)?

• First of all, learn as much as you can about your craft – only when you have a good working knowledge of what has been done, of different styles etc. can you combine them in new, interesting ways.
•  Be risky – sometimes, you have to take a certain risk: you won’t know if combining a horror story and crime elements will work unless you try.
•  Learn to see things in new, creative ways – e.g. what could you use a brick for? To build houses, sure, but couldn’t you also use it as a paper weight, as a weapon, as a doorstopper, as a device to keep your table from wobbling? It’s these instances that will give you new insights and inspire you to come up with novel stories. 
•  Look for others who are creative and who will support you – your creativity can thrive best if there are others who are either creative themselves, so you can inspire each other, or when they are accepting of your craft. Imagine writing a story when your SO keeps telling you that it’s a waste of time and/or silly – you’d have to be very dedicated to keep at it! Also, create an “imaginary friend,” your Constant Reader (or Constant Gallery Visitor, or Constant Concertgoer). S/he is your prototypical target audience. So you can ask yourself while working on your creative product: would Constant Reader enjoy this? Does s/he expect something entirely different now and will s/he be disappointed if s/he reads, sees or hears my new take on things? Basically, Constant Reader allows you to keep your intended audience in mind and not to stray too far from your intended path (King 2000).
• When you’re planning to work creatively, no matter if you’re planning on being a professional artist or if you’re just working for yourself, you have to want to do it, simply because you enjoy the process of doing it. It has been shown that when two groups of people work on a creative project, the ones who are told that their work will be judged are less creative. So just write for the sake of writing, sing because you love it, and you’ll come up with more new, interesting ideas than if you plan to be the new J.K. Rowling, Montserrat Caballé or Dalí.  
  
•  And finally, when you do all the things above, you have to practice continuously. Sure, writing only when you feel that divine spark of inspiration will produce some very nice stories or poems. I, for once, see myself as a Romantic poet who can only write when inspired or called to do so. However, you get better with practice, esp. when it comes to writing stories, dialogue that sounds natural, creating suspense and atmosphere – a writer I’ve met suggested to write a few pages each morning and to keep writing even if everything you turn out feels like s**t, cause this will stop your Inner Editor from complaining and making you feel insecure.

To finish off this post, here’s a poem about Odin I wrote recently. It is inspired both by the German Symbolist poet Stefan George (if you can read German, his poem is here) as well as German Expressionist writers, esp. August Stramm. 

autumn

the trees were shedding

            their golden gowns

when I found you

            amid the cool forest

unannounced I came

but receive me,

my king,

in your court

            in the twilight woodland

others handed you roses -

but my flowers are wild

and free, like the sun

            that is dying

this final blossom

autumn-blue

take, bind it,

            braid it in my hair -

with your nine sacred herbs

a crown

to make my wedding holy

skies darken, blacken in the wind

autumn air dances

in your war-encrusted curls -

please, leof min,

stay with me

for it is towards evening

silently

beneath the dusk I hear

your laugh,

the night,

the cruel blue winter wind -

and the Wild Hunt

is coming

 

Sources:

King, Stephen. 2000. On Writing. A Memoir of the Craft. London: Hodder & Stoughton.

Myers, David G. 2008. Psychologie. Heidelberg: Springer [German edition]. 

http://www.alb-neckar-schwarzwald.de/s_george_poems.html (Stefan George’s “komm in den totgesagten park“ in both German and English translation)

http://www.firstworldwar.com/poetsandprose/stramm.htm (English translations of two of August Stramm’s poems)

images:

http://www.kunstkopie.de/kunst/paul_cezanne/dream_poet_kiss_muse_hi.jpg (muse and poet)

http://crosseyedpianist.files.wordpress.com/2011/07/jimmorrison.jpg (Jim Morrison)

http://www.paranormal.de/symbole/germanen/Odin/Odin4.jpg (Odin)

Is Irish important for CR?

Dia duit!* In today’s post I’d like to explore the issue of language in a recon faith. Should we learn the language of the culture that our Gods and Goddesses stem from? What about older stages of this language? Or can we safely conclude that, since the Gods have contacted us miles away from Their original places of worship, we don’t have to bother with another language at all?

For me, the question didn’t really apply – I already spoke some Irish when I met my patron Manannán. It took me about a year of university courses to accomplish the basics, but I find it was time well invested. On the one hand, I love the Irish culture, so it was natural for me to study the country’s original language. On the other hand, as a recon I feel you should learn as much as possible about your deities’ culture, and language for me is a very important part of that (for those who haven’t guessed yet, yes, I’m a linguist^^).

Learning any new language is a worthwhile enterprise, in my opinion. When you’re speaking a different language, you’re more immersed in a different culture and also in a different way of thinking about things. For example, Turkish requires you to use different grammatical forms depending on whether you’ve witnessed an action yourself or whether you’ve just heard about it (Zimbardo/Gerrig 2008: 293). So essentially the language requires you to think about things you wouldn’t normally consider when speaking English – the same applies for languages like Irish, where you don’t “have” a name but a name is “on you” (Harzgeist an t-ainm atá orm = Harzgeist the name [which] is on me). 

For me, using Irish in ritual has a totally different feeling (see my post about my Imbolc ritual, where I used Irish in a ritual for the first time). I feel much closer to my Gods when addressing them in Irish terms – e.g. I’d call Manannán “m’athair,” which is the Irish for “my father.” In a way, this feels like the most natural thing to do. And finally, sharing a language with your Gods creates a special kind of community and intimacy.

Obviously, when you’re addressing your Gods, you don’t have to sound like a native-speaker of your chosen language. I see it more in the vein of making an effort to learn a few phrases if you’re going on holiday to a different country.

However, being a linguist and all, I beg you to try and get it as right as possible for you. I agree that some languages are difficult to pronounce when you’ve had no prior contact to them or to a similar language. So for example, for an English speaker trying to learn German, some sounds are quite difficult to produce – and I guess most English speakers have heard Germans struggle over the “th”-sound. So I guess if you’re teaching yourself how to speak another language, some mistakes are inevitable. But instead of sitting back and saying “well, I can’t get it right anyway, so why bother?” think of it this way:

If you had a friend from a foreign country, you’d also try to pronounce their name correctly – not because someone has told you to, or a book said so, but because you respect that person and because their name is an important part of their identity. So since our Gods are also our friends, mentors, or family, in my opinion we should take the time to at least learn to pronounce and spell Their names correctly out of respect for Them.

Still, when you’re a professional writer or organization, you should aim at the maximum level of correctness that you can manage – after all, people do rely on books and websites to e.g. find out how to pronounce their Gods’ names correctly. For example, the Norse Solitary Ritual Template on the ADF website used to read “Naturgeisten, ich danke Sie!” as an address to the land wights. However, the correct German (which they’ve now included, thankfully) is “Naturgeister, ich danke Euch.” We don’t have to go into German grammar here for you to see that there’s a difference. Just imagine the horror in my language-loving mind, picturing rituals using butchered grammar ;-) And I still cringe at the ritual’s pronunciation guide (there’s an IPA for a reason, you know?).

However, even I find that there’s only so much you can do as an individual. In his book The Apple Branch, Kondratiev (2003: 91-96) includes invocations for the four directions in four different languages, without any pronunciation guide whatsoever. There is an appendix for the English translations (Kondratiev 2003: 291f.), but even with my knowledge of a Celtic language I couldn’t manage to read out the Scottish invocation without horribly butchering it, much less the Welsh or Breton ones. Being skilled in six Celtic languages (Irish, Scottish, Manx, Breton, Welsh and Cornish) is just not possible for somebody who can’t learn languages easily (and has a day job), since it’s very time-consuming, takes an awful lot of dedication and sometimes is only do-able if you attend university courses - language centres in your city won’t offer courses in Manx, while a university department might.

So, summarizing my rant: I think learning the languages of your Gods’ culture is a very worthwhile experience that might bring you closer to your chosen culture and also foster a new and closer relationship with your Gods (imagine how you’d feel if your friend/loved one made the effort to study your language – you’d be pleased, wouldn’t you?). However, in contrast to Kondratiev I suggest that far from acquiring native speaker-like skills, learning the most important phrases and pronunciations correctly will be enough for most of our ritual practice.

While my post centred on Irish, the question obviously extends to other recon faiths – is speaking Greek important when you’re devoted to Zeus? Should you learn German, Swedish, Norwegian or Icelandic when you follow the Northern and Germanic gods? I’m debating learning at least one of these in honour of Odin (Who I address in German, by the way). But first on my ever-growing list of languages to learn is Polish, since my grandma was born in Poland. And I’m looking forward to calling her and saying “Hello grandma, how are you?” in her language. 

After all my ranting, I’m interested in your opinion. Do you speak the language of the Gods you follow? Do you think it is necessary at all?

Blessed be,

Harzgeist

* “Dia duit” is an Irish greeting, roughly translated as “God to you.”

Sources:

Kondratiev, Alexei. 2003. The Apple Branch. A Path to Celtic Ritual. New York: Kensington.

Zimbardo, Phillip and Richard Gerrig. 2008. Psychologie. München: Pearson Studium. [German edition]

Online Sources:

http://www.adf.org/rituals/norse/general/sol-template-art.html

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ipa 

Harzgeist's Harvest Stew

For this week’s H post, I’ve decided to share with you my recipe for a harvest stew that I prepare each year at the autumn equinox. Actually, this is my longest-going spiritual practice since I made the first stew in 2008, shortly after reading my first introductory Wicca books. Needless to say, the recipe has progressed through various incarnations since then. But that’s the beauty of it – if you’re out of one ingredient, you can just as easily substitute another and/or experiment with different vegs.

Note: this is the vegetarian version of the recipe; you may just as well include meat like beef or pork. 

Ingredients (this makes a stew for about 4 hungry people):

a pumpkin (Hokkaido or something similar works best; I wouldn’t use butternut squash) – alternatively, use two smaller ones

about 8 potatoes

2 bell peppers (I normally use one red and one yellow pepper, but any colour will do)

2 carrots

2 courgettes

6 tomatoes

a handful of mushrooms

1-2 onions

as much garlic as you like

1,5-2L vegetable stock (alternatively, you can use beef broth if you’re a meat-eater)

tomato purée to taste

salt and pepper

oil

How to: 

You can start by assembling all the ingredients on your kitchen table (or wherever you usually chop your vegs). Take a moment to perceive and reflect on each vegetable – what does it smell and taste like? What shape does it have? Do you know where it usually grows?

Then, thank the Goddess (or Whoever you feel is appropriate for the occasion – for me, it’s my matron Anann) for the bounty She gives us in the harvest. You may also want to extend your thanks to the rest of your life – in which other areas has the Goddess given you bountiful harvests?

When you’re done communing with the Goddess, start by cleaning your vegs.

Peel your vegs and chop them up into nice little cubes (potatoes, onions, peppers, tomatoes, garlic) or slices (carrots, mushrooms, courgettes). Cut the top from your pumpkin(s) and hollow it out – you won’t need the seeds.

In a big saucepan, heat 3-5 tbs of oil. Let the onions and the garlic roast for about 1-2mins, then slowly add your vegs, starting with the potatoes. Let them roast gently for a bit, then add carrots and bell peppers. Let them roast again, then add tomatoes and courgettes.

Pour in vegetable stock and let simmer for about 5mins. Add pumpkin and mushrooms and let simmer for about 25mins.

If you want to, you may add some meat substitutes now.  

Add salt, pepper and tomato purée to taste.

Cooking times may vary depending on how many vegs you’ve used.

Serve your stew with some slices of buttered, home-made bread. Put some in a bowl for the land spirits if you honour them, or place a bowl of stew on your altar to share with your Gods.

Blessed be,
Harzgeist

All photos © by Harzgeist.

Holidays - Learning from Non-Pagan Celebrations

When I was staying at my family’s for the Easter holidays, I realized two things – one I talked about in my last post on gospel songs and paganism. The other is that we can learn a lot about each other by attending spiritual services of other faiths, and also enrich our own pagan practice.

My family has always been Christian, although not overtly so – my great-grandma would pray the rosary every week, but privately, and my gran also prays by herself each night. Since my dad passed on three years ago, however, my mum quite often attends services with my little brother (8) and me. As I don’t live at home anymore this usually this happens three to four times a year around the holidays, i.e. Christmas, Easter, Thanksgiving and potentially the service held in summer at a local site in the mountains.

So today I’d like to talk about the last Easter service I went to and what I learned from it.

First of all, I find that attending a Christian mass once every so often is a good and easy way to remind me of the core tenets of Christianity. Not that I’d forget that Easter commemorates the occasion of Jesus rising from the dead, obviously. Instead, the sermon reminds me not only of what is celebrated, but also of what it means for believing Christians. For Easter, this would be a sense of hope pervading all aspects of their life, and a belief that they, too, will rise one day to be with their God. Hearing sermons like these and understanding what it is that Easter means for Christians helps me to see parallels to my own pagan faith. 

the altar of the church my mum attends

This brings me to my second point, i.e. that once I see that the sense of hope Christians feel at Easter is similar to the hope and joy I experience during the spring equinox ritual, I might be able to better explain to friends and relatives what it is that I celebrate and believe in. So when I can show that while I do not believe in Jesus, I do focus on hope and the good things in life (that is, not on courting the devil and eating little children), we might have some common ground – and if we cannot agree, maybe we can at least peacefully co-exist, knowing that the other’s beliefs are not too far from one’s own in a sense.

The third and main aspect that really struck me during this year’s Easter service is that in my own pagan practice, I really do miss the sense of community. On the one hand I’m quite happy to be a solitary practitioner, since my schedule is quite messy at the moment and I don’t think I could find time for a regular meet-up; and I also want to explore more of paganism in general before settling for a certain group’s way of doing things.

But on the other hand, I really do miss feeling a community spirit. In my mum’s church, the congregation gathers in a circle in front of the altar for the holy communion, and you can partake of both the wine and bread (my dad’s Catholic church, where I used to go to when I was young, only had the priest consume the wine, so this is a really interesting experience for me). After everyone has partaken of the bread and wine, you take your neighbour by the hand and the circle is blessed by the priest or priestess. This sharing of bread and wine, to me, is closer to Jesus’ original idea than the Catholic practice that I grew up with, and it also reminds me of the fact that you’re not alone, but celebrating your faith together with others. 

 

Also, I simply love singing with others to praise God. While I’m quite happy with my own singing voice, it just doesn’t compare to a whole church packed with people singing well-known gospels.

And finally, I miss having a proper ritual structure. I do like to experiment with how I do ritual. However, I find that once you have a set structure you can concentrate better on what the words and gestures mean to you personally instead of fretting about getting the next ritual step right. Also, a fixed structure gives me a sort of comfort, because no matter where you enter a church of a certain denomination, the structure will be the same (or very similar, at least) and you can feel instantly at home.

So how can I adapt the things I miss into my practice?

I talked about the gospel songs last week, so I’m not going to go into detail here. As to the community aspect, I’m planning on asking a Wiccan friend of mine if we could celebrate some of the sabbats together. While I’m not Wiccan myself, I guess our core beliefs are close enough for us to get a meaningful ritual structure that we could work with. Another friend has asked me whether I’d do a little pagan ceremony on our annual Walpurgisnacht trip up the local hill (Walpurgisnacht is the night between April 30^th and May 1^st, i.e. the German version of Bealtaine), so if all present are fine with it, I might share some bread and mead with the group.

And as to the ritual structure, I don’t have a perfect solution just yet, but since the structure I used for my spring equinox ritual worked really well, I might use it again for the next sabbats and see if I want to stick to it.

As a conclusion, joining my Christian relatives in church is a good way for me to see what they believe in and celebrate on their holy days, and it also gets me to reflect about the current state of my own faith and how I can make my celebrations be even more to my liking.

Do you have other thoughts about attending mass (or the services of other faiths, depending on what faith your relatives adhere to) together with your family? Do you do it at all, and if not, why? 

Blessed be,

Harzgeist

Gospel Songs in Paganism?

Today, I’d like to share with you an experience, or rather a realization, that I had while I was attending the Easter service together with my mum this year. The church she attends has quite a lot of songs that I enjoy, and I found I really loved singing along with the congregation.

I’ve also been a member of a gospel choir during my time in England, where I went twice a week – sometimes more often, when a concert was approaching – to sing songs praising God. But it only occurred to me during this Easter service that there hardly are any gospel songs that we can sing as pagans.

Obviously, there are quite a lot of songs with a pagan theme, often written and sung by pagan artists. For example, I do love the work of Damh the Bard; his rendition of the Raggle Taggle Gypsy never fails to make me smile, and his The Spirit of Albion gives me goosebumps quite often.

However, apart from a song by Kellianna called I Walk with the Goddess there is hardly a truly pagan song I know that comes close to gospels like, say, Elvis Presley’s rendition of Working on the Building that I could use during ritual. 

The fact is that I love music, so naturally I would like to use music to celebrate my gods. While chants can be very powerful when used in ritual, I’m looking for gospel-like songs that were written for the praise of our gods and that you can sing along to. For me, there’s a certain challenge in getting the key and difficult bits in a gospel right, so I’d like to be able to give a well-sung song as an offering, so to speak.

However, I don’t feel that using existing Christian gospels and changing the lyrics is appropriate, in a way. I do appreciate the efforts by e.g. the German Asatru-Ring Frankfurt, who have quite an extensive library oflyrics – either Christian-themed songs changed to fit pagan rituals, like their Yule songs, or modern pop songs changed to incorporate pagan and Heathen ideas. For example, there is quite a nice Heathen version of Dolly Parton’s Jolene titled Wotan (Heart of You), directed at Odin. My problem is, however, that you’d have to find an instrumental version of these songs to use them during ritual (as much as I like Mrs Parton, I don’t want her to sing about Jolene when I try to devote a song to Odin – and if I don’t have musical accompaniment, I go terribly off key, and no God wants to hear that, believe me).

I also tried to change the lyrics of a song I learned in the gospel choir (it’s called He Reigns; a version of my choir performing it can be found here).

While I managed to get as far as

“Our God is an awesome God, 

He reigns from Asgard above”

the next line that says “with wisdom, power and love” wouldn’t quite fit my view of Odin (wisdom, yes – love, not so much); and besides, “Asgard” wouldn’t quite go into the metre anyway.

So essentially, what I really miss at the moment are gospel-like songs that are pagan-themed – or at least neutral enough for me to use them during ritual. Are you familiar with any songs that I might enjoy?

Blessed be,

Harzgeist

Giamos and Samos – Celtic Worldview I

For my first “G” post in the Pagan Blog Project, I’d like to address one of the fundamental distinctions in the Celtic world, namely that of giamos and samos.

In the Celtic mindset, we can see a primary guiding concept of universal duality; in the words of Alexei Kondratiev, one of my favourite scholars in the field, this duality can be expressed as “Day and Night, Summer and Winter, God and Goddess, Tribe and Land,, this world and Otherworld” (Kondratiev 2003: 79).

It is the differences between these principles that allow changes to occur (Kondratiev 2003: 80). In this case, the Celtic worldview seems to be similar to the concepts of Fire and Ice in the Northern mythology, since the contact of both these elements created Ymir, the first living being (Prose Edda, 4). 

Kondratiev (2003: 88) agrees when he notes that “fire and water are of primary ritual importance in Celtic tradition, representing the polarity of samos and giamos.” So maybe the similarities between these concepts will help me incorporate more Northern elements in my practice to honour the Northern gods I follow.

But now to the topic of my post: 

The Celtic year is separated in two halves: giamos and samos; Freeman (2001: 5) refers to this as gam and sam, but her distinction is essentially the same. The terms were developed by Neven Henaff, a Breton nationalist thinker of early 20^th century (Kondratiev 2003: 79).

The giamos period encompasses the time from November 1^st to May 1^st and is thus the Night or Winter half of the year. The period represents the Goddess, the land, the dead, as well as all unconscious activity (Kondratiev 2003: 81). According to this definition, rituals should begin after sunset – apart from those that are specifically designed or required to be held during daylight, such as Bealtaine (Kondratiev 2003: 87).

The samos period, on the contrary, is understood as the Day or Summer  half and goes from May 1^st to November 1^st; it represents the God, the tribe, the living, and all conscious activity (Kondratiev 2003: 80).

 For Celtic peoples, the year started with the giamos period at Samhain, since “unconsciousness precedes consciousness, an unseen gestation of the womb precedes birth, and so Winter is felt to be the gestation of the Summer” (Kondratiev 2003: 97); likewise, days start at sunset. We can thus see that all time structure can be divided according to the samos/giamos principle. The concept also pertains to space, where South is equalled with Night and North with Day (Kondratiev 2003: 80). However, we’ll go into more detail once we reach “Q” for quarters.

Looking at the four seasons that we know and celebrate today, we can say that Spring is the samos- or summer-oriented half of the giamos (winter) season – Spring still belongs to the Winter half of the year, but we feel that the sun is getting warmer and flowers start to bloom. On the other hand, Harvest is the giamos (winter)-oriented half of the samos (summer) season), because the days are getting shorter and it is already getting colder, although the Harvest belongs to the Summer half.

This gives  us the following calendar of festivals:

o       Samhain at the beginning of Winter

o       Imbolc at the beginning of Spring

o       Bealtaine at the beginning of Summer

o       Lúghnasadh at the beginning of Harvest

During the time from Samhain to Bealtaine, we witness changes within the land – snow falls, then covers the earth during the Winter Solstice, and thaws again to allow new flowers and new life to grow.

In the time from Imbolc to Lúghnasadh, however, we witness changes pertaining to the tribe, i.e. humans, and the land, since it includes the time of sowing, growing of crops, and the harvest (Kondratiev 2003: 109).

The concept of samos and giamos can also be found in the ritual rivalry between the two consorts of the Goddess – the Maponos figure and Cernunnos. 

In Celtic belief, Cernunnos is not seen as a horned god, but as a god with antlers – this is a necessary and important distinction, since antlers fall off and grow back, and so represent natural changes (Kondratiev 2003: 105f.). During the summer half of the year, Cernunnos has lost his antlers (and thereby his consort and his creativity); he now is in his personal giamos-(winter) mode of contemplation. When the world turns to winter, Cernunnos is re-united with his consort the Goddess and his hence capable of active exchange which will renew the land (hence he enters his own summer/samos mode) (Kondratiev 2003: 108).

Looking at his rival, the Maponos, we can describe him as the “archetypal young lover” (Kondratiev 2003: 108), expressing vitality and youth. He is born by the Goddess at the Winter Solstice, then grows up to mate with Her on Bealtaine, and goes into the giamos (winter) mode together with the land, i.e. he is imprisoned or dies as the year progresses, to be freed or reborn at the Winter Solstice (Kondratiev 2003: 109).

Wiccans might be familiar with this system in the form of the Holly King (similar to Cernunnos’s role) and the Oak King (the Maponos figure ruling through the summer period). This distinction is beautifully expressed in Damh the Bard’s song Noon of the Solstice, which can be found here.

My final question is whether we can work with this mindset outside of rituals and magical workings, since people do get confused when I wish my Wiccan friend a happy new year halfway through our annual Halloween party.

What do you think?

Blessed be,

Harzgeist

Sources:

Freeman, Mara. 2001. Kindling the Celtic Spirit. New York: HarperCollins.

Kondratiev, Alexei. 2003. The Apple Branch. A Path to Celtic Ritual. New York: Kensington.

Sturluson, Snorri. The Prose Edda. Accessed online (and in German) here.

http://www.asatruringfrankfurt.de/5edda/prosaedda_simrock/snorri_1-10_gylfaginning.htm

Damh the Bard – Noon of the Solstice: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mFvpMObnzB8