A Song from the Wood
Thoughts on Thor and the Forestby Wilfred von Dauster, from Mountain Thunder, Issue 10, Autumn 1993.
City-folk may not easily understand this essay, but it is worth a try.
The afternoon is warm for a Summer day, 9000 feet high in the Colorado Rocky Mountains. The temperature is around 70° F with no discernible breeze. A few high clouds hang in the impossibly blue sly, floating at a distance. The forest is still; there is little sign of the change about to come.
Virtually all of northern Europe was covered in forest at the time the Aesir and Vanir were honored by the majority of its inhabitants. Indeed, Germany and Austria still have a tremendous amount of forested land, a far higher percentage than the lower 48 United States. A love for the woods certainly flows in the veins of this writer. More importantly, there is much to learn about the nature of at least some of the Gods of Ásatrú from a careful, if brief, examination of the forest.
There can be little doubt that this forested environment strongly influenced the world view of the many different folk that lived in the northern half of the continent. Living in what is left of this country's once massive forests certainly affects the thinking of those of us lucky enough to make our homes away from barren or overpopulated flatlands.
A good friend of this author remarked recently that a forest's health could be improved by "thinning" it, cutting down "less perfect" trees so the remaining ones could thrive. This friend is not a pagan, and suffers from attitudes developed in the 1900s, when it was assumed that humans could improve anything by applying the Scientific Principle to all aspects of our environment. That attitude also presumed that humans had an obligation and right to bring "uncontrolled nature" to heel. An attitude born of a thousand years of Christian conditioning, of the idea that the Earth was under man's (sic) domain and stewardship. The arrogance of this thinking seems never to have occurred to my friend.
Outside of the cabin's front window, a fog has rather suddenly developed. A fog that, at any lower elevation, would be just another one of those clouds hanging in the distance. The ever-thickening mist billows and rolls down the highway, lending a surreal quietness to the afternoon. The temperature is dropping, now that the bright mountain sun is hidden.
Although many Ásatrúar think of Freyja and Freyr when they think of the woods, this picture is incomplete. According to H. R. Elllis-Davidson, Thor was often worshipped in sacred groves. Oak groves are said to have been popular. Massive old oaks tell us a few things about Thor's character. Oaks are long lived, and appear to get stronger with age and weathering. They are massive, solid, and are made of tough stuff; a hardwood much prized for its strength and durability. As a long-lived, strong tree, oaks must have towered above many surrounding trees, which would in turn attract the occasional lightning strike, further strengthening the association with Thor.
We know Thor is called the "Son of Earth." This helps solidify his identification with the forest, and nature in general. It may be a good idea to look more closely at the lessons the forest has to teach, in order to more fully understand the personality, character, and priorities of Thor.
Many or most of modern Ásatrúars tend to view Thor as a God of order. After all, he is the defender of both Asgard and humans. How does this impute order or law to his character? In our modern, urban-oriented world, the defenders of people are, for the most part, the local police. Police work within, or should work within, the framework of the Law, a codification of abstract principles of right and definitions of wrong. If Thor is the defender of humans, and tries to do the right thing, then he must certainly be a god of law, yes?
No.
The fog has thinned, but the day has grown darker. From the sound of the rare passing automobile's tires, the road is beginning to get wet. Looking closer, occasional droplets of water fall from the eves in front of the window. The mist has solidified into a gentle, dark drizzle. A slight breeze begins to stir the leaves of the Aspens and pines.
Ásatrú has at least one clearly defined God of law and justice; he is Tyr. Tyr is also a god of service, self-sacrifice, and if one might infer, patience. The stories of Thor exhibit many positive traits, but patience with the enemies of Asgard is not prominent among them. If Tyr is preeminent as a god of law and justice, and in olden times that more organized of conflicts, war, where or to whom do we look for the balancing character, the god who most involves himself with change, situations in flux, one might even say chaos? Look over the shoulder to the old man in the long cloak, looking through you with his one remaining eye from under his broad-brimmed hat.
Odin is the god of change, of riding the waves of disorder and change, navigating them to his own purposes for the good of the gods. Those who follow Odin must expect a life of changes, unpredictable, often with little apparent order or meaning. Odin is a provider of ecstasy, but little comfort. The well-ordered life will find Odin an interference. Those who recognize that change is endemic to all life, that change is the only real constant, do well to grab his cloak and hang on for the wild hunt.
If Odin is the god of change, and Tyr of law and order, where does Thor fit into this spectrum? Once again, by examining the lessons of the forest, perhaps more can be learned of the Great Defender, the Thunderer, the strongest of the gods.
A sudden, brilliant flash illuminates the dark world the woods have become. It is followed a few seconds later by a massive thunderclap. The cell must be almost directly overhead, probably over the peak of Mount Thorodin.* The drizzle has become a steady rain, which is intensifying. It will not get as heavy as those storms one encounters in the Southern United States, at least that is not likely.
The friend who would "improve the health of the forest" by killing a few selected trees, does not understand what a forest is. A forest is not a park. There is nothing wrong with parks, mind. When they are crime free - a rarity in the US - they can be wonderfully refreshing and restoring, giving the visitor the illusion of contact with, and maybe even intimacy with, nature.
This managed tree exhibit, with cropped grass, has as much to do with the forest as a painted portrait with the person it represents. The painter imparts her or his personality to the interpretation on canvas, much as people impart their idea of what a collection of trees should look like in a park. The painter removes or minimizes perceived imperfections from the presentation, just as the "forest manager" would remove trees perceived as defective from the woods. Just as with people, however, differences are not necessarily defects.
But what of the diseased, the dying, and even the dead trees? These are indicative of the health of the forest. ''Huh?'' Thinning a forest, as the friend noted, does improve the health of the remaining trees. The problems are, who decides what gets thinned, and what is done with the tree's felled by humans? Regarding the first problem, there is little that can be said against the process of natural selection. Those trees which are fittest, which are best situated, which are, well, toughest, survive. Those that aren't, don't. When humans interfere with this process, the overall health of the forest is, ultimately, weakened.
Rut what of the trees that are dead or dying? Removing a few, perhaps for firewood or construction, is probably not harmful. Removing them all, over a period of time, however, ultimately robs the forest of fresh soil, born of the decay of the fallen trees. And this in turn, ultimately weakens the health of the forest. Deprived of the fertile soil, the nutrients needed for growth, the remaining trees are less fit to weather the vagaries of nature, of storms, winds, and disease.
The rumble of thunder is continuous. In the flatlands, even a severe storm has pauses between the thunderclaps. Sometimes these are short pauses, but they are there, nonetheless. In the high mountains, the thunder echoes off of countless peaks, varying in intensity, but never letting up during the heart of the storm. The rain is continuous as well. Through the open screen door, the scent of wet trees and duff permeates the cabin. It is a lush, summertime smell of living trees, grasses, flowers, and of living decay turning all, eventually, into food for new life.
Walking through the woods, one is struck by the "untidy" nature of it. Trees grow in random patterns, fail where they may, without any apparent order. Grass, flowers and trees grow wherever they can, jutting out of rocks, even growing from the trunks of the fallen trees. While this disorder might resemble chaos, there is little chaotic about it. It is random, but follows a definite pattern of birth/growth/death/decay, a cycle which has gone on for millions of years. The order is that of nature, not humans. And perhaps here we gain some insight into the true nature of Thor.
Thor is concerned with the overall order of nature, the continuing, natural, living nature of the Earth, his - and ultimately our - mother. He is concerned with the larger patterns of life, larger patterns which within themselves allow for considerable randomness. This randomness does not in any way interfere with the progression of life, indeed, it is essential to it. Without variety, with the strict homogeneity of life forms, there is almost certain stagnation, inbreeding, and eventually, death.
This can be seen in the forest surrounding this cabin. The trees that grew here a hundred years ago, the old growth forest, were strip cut. Virtually all of the local forest is second-growth. Further, since they grew relatively quickly and made for good, straight logs, the native tree's were replaced with an almost homogeneous planting of lodgepole pines. As a result, the forest hereabouts is infested with predators and parasites that thrive on lodgepole pines, making for a sickly and disease-prone forest. In the areas where spruce and fir trees mix with aspens, the health of the forest is demonstrably better.
The storm is abating. The rain has changed from the downpour to a gentle, steady rain. The radio crackles through the static with frequent National Weather Service reports of severe storm warnings downslope, of tornadoes and hail. Here the cloud sky is lightening noticeably. Soon the rain will cease.
Randomness within the natural order is a part of Thor. Perhaps his tremendous strength results from this working within the order of nature. Indeed, people are stronger when living in harmony with nature, not poisoning their bodies with "managed," "harmless" chemicals, pollutants, and additives. Thor is not concerned with the petty or trivial temporary order people can impose on nature, with one important exception. Forcing the forest, indeed forcing the planet's ecosystems, to conform to our expectations and demands can, as has been described, interrupt and destroy the cycles of life which keep the earth alive.
What of the needs of people for wood? Wood is an excellent building material, ideal for furniture, houses, and countless other uses. True. The key concepts are farming and sustainability. When approached with respect for the cycle of life, trees can be a crop like any other, with the exception of the slow gratification which so annoys Americans. The US National Forest Service refers to "harvesting" trees in National Forests. If they had planted them, then perhaps this would not be as absurd a term as it is in their usage. Let's repeat it: to harvest, one must first plant. The other concept, sustainability, means, among other things, without the infusion of synthetic fertilizers and poisons.
When approached with respect for the cycle of life.
This is respect for Thor, and his nature. This means that approaching the forest, the cycles of life without respect is to disrespect Thor. This is, simply put, unwise.
The sun is out, as bright as before the storm. The eaves still drip water, ever more slowly, into puddles retreating into the sandy mountain soil. Farther out, steam rises off of the highway, making the occasional auto a ghost-vehicle. The temperature rises quickly back up to the 60s, and the air has a freshness and snap to it. The forest seems to radiate life, growth.
Thor, like nature itself, does whatever it takes to defend the lives of the forest, men, the way of the gods, and the gods themselves. You are, one way or the other, also a participant in the cycle of life. For some, this is enough. For others, it is better to actively participate in the process, to, like Thor, and with his help, defend the random order of nature, along with people and the good name of our gods.
* As for the mountain Thorodin yes, that is its real name, on all of the maps.
This article copyright 1993 by Wilfred von Dauster.
Web version copyright 1997 by Wilfred von Dauster and Mountain Thunder.
This page maintained by bratwurst@vinland.org
Last modified on 31 Mar 1997.