Can Animism and the Old Goddesses (and Gods…) Save Us?
Altar to an unknown goddess in Glastonbury, England.
Animism is the idea that everything – hills, trees, rocks, other-than-humans - has an essence, or spirit. It’s the idea that other beings are perhaps different than ourselves but just as worthy of respect. It views everything in the world as alive. This way of looking at things, of interpreting reality, is primarily a mechanism for relating to the world around us and to things other than ourselves.
It’s important to note that animism is often mistakenly conflated with anthropomorphism, which just pastes the attributes, feelings and personalities of humans onto other things. Anthropomorphism is naming a tree Bob and assuming that Bob thinks like us and has similar emotions to us. Animism is understanding that a tree likely has a completely different experience of reality to us, and may possess a kind of consciousness that is beyond what we can fathom, but that the tree is filled with the same life-energy that inhabits all of creation and is therefore worthy of our respect.
If you have pets, you probably already inherently understand this. Our beloved companions do not think the same way we do, but they are beings with their own way of seeing the world and we respect and care for them. Take that understanding and extend it outward to a wolf, a bear, a fox. They too have desires and emotions - it may just be a little harder for us to understand them. Now extend this concept to a hawk, a tree, a flower. We don’t have to understand what their lives are like or the nature of their consciousness, but we can still respect their beingness.
The idea of the old goddesses and gods may seem anthropomorphic at first glance, but it’s important to understand that despite how they are often portrayed today, they were not thought of by animist cultures (I’m speaking from a Scandinavian, Northern European, and Gaelic perspective) as literal people with human emotions, but rather as avatars representing a constellation of elements, landscapes, values, and ideas. They allow us to name something unnamable. They are our best attempt to quantify the unquantifiable, to translate the complexity of reality and feelings into terms we can understand, and make it easier for us to relate to concepts and energies we might otherwise have trouble comprehending.
Thor, for example, is the personification of thunder, storms, protection, and strength. He is a vibe. He represents the spirit of those natural phenomena and ideas, and people would call on him when they wanted to embody and summon those energies.
Brigid, the goddess I work with most closely, represents these ideas and elements: fire and the sun, the deep wells and waters that sustain life on the earth, the art of herbcraft and healing, and the courage to act with compassion and do what is right. She is the life-spark that lives in everything. When we think of and call on Brigid’s energy, these are the things we are drawing into our own lives, the things we seek to embody and emulate. This is the vibe we seek to have. It’s kind of like we are plucking a thread of energy out of the universe and weaving it into our lives and actions.
The White Spring in Glastonbury, England, which is dedicated to Brigid. Inside, a sacred flame is kept burning to honor her.
How does all of this relate to saving the earth? To ecology and environmental activism and habitat restoration, of all things?
It all comes back to respect and relationship. When we have respect for the world around us, no matter how different it is from us, that changes the way we interact with it. Things are no longer abstract, detached, but personal and individual. Our lack of respect and the idea that all of nature is here for our taking has lead to the destruction of our wild spaces and the creation of a wasteland. Treating anything that isn’t human as if it’s just a lifeless object is, arguably, what got us into this mess. And I will take it a step further: I think our general commodification and depersonalization of everything has even affected how we treat each other - we have forgotten our sacredness.
So how do we get ourselves out of this situation?
Everything starts with a thought. The way we think dictates our actions. The first step back to ourselves, back to a healthy relationship with the rest of the animate earth, is to start seeing the land, the animals, and the other creatures we share this place with as kin rather than commodity.
It becomes a much more serious decision to cut down a tree if we think of that tree as a being rather than a lifeless object in the landscape. If we destroy or pollute a well or waterway, we are directly disrespecting and acting against what Brigid stands for. If we view the wildlife we share the land with as kin, we are less likely to disregard their wellbeing and pave over the habitat they depend on. If we see each other as little reflections of a greater life force we will treat each other with more care. In a way, animism gives us a moral code of conduct for engaging with the world.
Of course, working with particular goddesses doesn’t have to be a part of animism for you - you are free to honor the energy of all things without putting a name to them, and this is, most of the time, what I do myself. And yet, if it resonates with you, working with the energy of one or many of the deities of your ancestors can be a tool to help you do the work you want to do in the world.
I named this little operation Brigid Rising because I believe her energy, what she represents - guarding the wells and waterways, recognizing the life-spark in all things, working with the green world to heal ourselves and each other, exercising courage and compassion - are things we need to keep at the front our of minds as we work toward a better world.
Some of the waters of the White Spring flow into a stone spiral outside of the springhouse.