Neolithic Shamanism: Spirit Work in the Norse Tradition - Raven Kaldera 2012
Spirit Home
The Gray World: Craft
Raven: One of the spirits I work with is an ancestor of mine, more than 1,300 years dead, sent to me by my patron goddess. He was—is—a noiade, a shaman of the Saami people whose mother was Norse, and who inherited two sets of ancestral spirits. (Frankly, even 1,300 years dead, he’s still a better shaman than I’ll ever be.) His spiritual “focus” in my home is the figure of an old man made of birchbark and decorated with fur scraps, with a benign painted face. I surround the figure with other figures—reindeer, from an inch long to nearly as big as the 8-inch old man figure himself. This is his spirit herd, the coin in which I am repaying him for his valuable teachings. He and his reindeer have pride of place on the ancestor altar.
Other spirit homes reside on my property, including many “god poles,” tall, thick poles with faces carved at the top for people to pray and lay offerings before. As we mentioned earlier in this chapter, our language for these things is shifting. My housemates once heard me mention the Buryat-Siberian term ongon for a small spirit-home item that would be kept in the house. I had been reading the work of Sarangerel, a Buryat shaman and author, and had mentioned, “She calls them ongons!”—and the word caught on in my house. Now I hear, “Something’s fallen behind one of your ongons—you’d better move it for me, because I don’t want to touch it,” and “Look at that piece of basketry! It would make a good ongon.” We wish that we knew our ancestral name for a spirit home. We’ve discussed the possibility of gástærn or náttúrhús, which are Old English and Old Norse, respectively, modernly combined old words that mean, in essence, spirit house. Now it remains to be seen if either catches on.
Galina: I have close to thirty altars and shrines in my home, which I maintain pretty much daily. That includes a god pole to Odin and a huge ancestral altar. On my ancestral altar I have a spirit pot, which is the focus or home for one of my ancestral spirits. I have a little house in my kitchen for my house spirits, and various spirit homes for other allies, each one unique, and many provided to the specifications of the spirit in question. These homes seem to make the spirits more comfortable and provide a focus for offerings and work . . . and if I need to travel and want to call on the help of a specific spirit, being able to take the spirit-house with me makes it that much easier to do so effectively. The maintenance of the spirit homes and various shrines is an offering of respect, commitment, and good faith.
Spirit houses can be made out of many things. Some are anthropomorphic figures, such as statues or stuffed dolls. Some are abstract items that appeal to the spirit in question. Some are containers full of spirit-associated items, as we discussed in the section on pottery. Some hang from beams or trees; some sit on shelves. Some have entire altars, which is the equivalent of giving the spirit house an estate, although altars in this tradition tend to be either for entire families of spirits or for Gods. (For ideas on altars for the Northern Gods, check Northern Tradition for the Solitary Practitioner, our book published by New Page Books.) Spirit houses tend to made of natural materials, such as wood, wicker, cloth, or pottery. They are distinct from tools dedicated to a specific spirit in that they are generally stationary and serve only one purpose: to be a focus and container for that spirit when it chooses to be in your presence.
The spirit house is where you make your offerings to the spirit—setting out food or drink in from of them or other gifts. Some spirits want you to carry their houses with them to specific places—an Ocean spirit might want its náttúrhús carried on a trip to the ocean and splashed with seawater, for instance. Raven’s ancestor once demanded to be taken along and placed on an altar at a class Raven was teaching—the first time that he had taught this particular class, which contained skills taught to him by that ancestor. Raven figured that the old man wanted to oversee this virgin flight and supervise if necessary.
Exercise: Spirit House
As mentioned, there is no way to guess which spirits will take an interest in you, and thus no way to know what kind of spirit house you will need to make. Some spirits demand natural materials; some don’t care. If a spirit is demanding a gástærn and you are stumped, first try going to a natural area that is associated with that spirit and look for things to pick up. (A gástærn for the spirit of a wooded area might simply be a jar containing earth, bark, dried moss, and twigs from that area.) These can be used alone or with a bought or created item that symbolizes the spirit (A náttúrhús for the Horse spirit might be some discarded horsehair from a local stable, tied around a horse figurine.) Or, sometimes, the right item turns up in a store as you’re walking through it; we suggest taking time to walk through craft stores, thrift stores, and yard sales with your mind and intuition as open as possible, and let the spirits tell you what to pick out. (Raven’s birchbark old man, depicting his ancestor, was originally a Santa decoration found during the holiday season.)
Don’t be self-conscious if the náttúrhús looks childish or crude. Everyone has seen spirit figures from tribal societies that are little more than a hanging stick with odd things tied to it. The question is not whether any human being will think it looks good, but whether the spirit likes the way it feels. The energy is more important than the aesthetic, in the long run. Remember that the spirits are not human and do not have human aesthetics. Their idea of what fits them well might not be your idea of what looks good. Remember also that although your effort is valued, your very human opinion of what they ought to have as a home is not appropriate here. You’re not making this for yourself; it’s for them. What anyone else thinks of it is irrelevant.
After your spirit home is finished, put it in a place that the spirit approves of (on a shelf, over a door, on a windowsill, hanging from the ceiling), and periodically give it an offering, or at least greet the spirit as you go by. You might want to schedule special days to give attention to that spirit, if you find that you keep forgetting to do something for it. The one big difficulty with spirit allies, as we’ve said repeatedly, is that they are actual people and they expect regular attention, and sometimes they become disgruntled if they are ignored for too long. Be consistent in your interactions. The worst thing you can do is to allow their homes to fall into disrepair. The relationships we have with the Holy Powers, ancestors, and spirits are meant to be reciprocal. It’s a matter of ongoing attention, not doing something once and forgetting about it.