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Facing Ragnarok

The sun turns black, | earth sinks in the sea,
The hot stars down | from heaven are whirled;
Fierce grows the steam | and the life-feeding flame,
Till fire leaps high | about heaven itself.

Voluspa 57, Bellows Translation

The world is on fire. In the Arctic unprecedented megafires have consumed over 13 million acres of forest in Siberia, Canada, Greenland and Alaska, fuelled by record-breaking summer heats and the accelerating feedback loop of climate change. Smoke released has choked nearby communities as the air grows thick with toxins. On the other side of the world the Amazon has been engulfed in fires deliberately set by mining and ranching companies seeking to drive out indigenous communities and turn their homes into desolate pits and overgrazed wastelands with the active support of Jair Boslonaro’s government. These infernos were so severe they blackened the skies over Sao Paulo, one of the largest cities in Brazil. The trees holding up life as we know it are on fire.

There is no downplaying the severity of these crises. The Earth’s ability to sustain life as we know it is teetering on the edge of collapse. As normal as it is to seek comfort in words that are explaining this all away with cherry-picked statistics and massaged data all meant to obscure the truth there is no reframing of the facts that makes them any less grim. It is also easy to respond to ever-increasing, seemingly unstoppable horror with numbed apathy and disengagement. Even so there is still hope that final crisis can be averted and a better world can be made for everyone. The answer lies in heeding the example of the Norse Gods in how they face their greatest crisis, the apocalyptic struggle of Ragnarok.

Ragnarok presents an existential threat to the Gods. Many of the Aesir and some of the Vanir will die in the Final Battle. All the worlds on Yggdrasil will be engulfed in flames. They know this catastrophe is inevitable and can only be delayed, not averted. Even so the Gods prepare themselves to stand firmly against their Doom. They gladly charge onto the field of battle, knowing many will fall in the struggle, showing it is better to always fight for what is right than to submit to danger and injustice.

Such a stand isn’t just a matter of one last, heroic rush into the jaws of death. In the Voluspa a new, green world full of life and new potential rises from the ashes of Ragnarok. Baldr returns from the dead while the children of Thor and Odin’s son Vidar will survive the blaze to help guide the new humanity that springs from the wreckage. The promise of ensuring the rise of a new, better world even though they won’t live to see it is more than enough to move the Gods into making the ultimate sacrifice.

You can see the same holding true for those fighting the climate crisis. Great work will be needed and much of the fruits of that labor won’t be seen by anyone currently living. Even so the efforts to mitigate and undo the damage done will be seen by the children and grandchildren of those who struggle now against the odds. No matter how dark the world is in this moment the promise of a better future shows the way forward to better possibilities.

These times are not only that of holding back the coming tide. In crisis there can also be opportunity to imagine a better world and build it from the bones of the old. After all the greatest hope for overcoming climate crisis lies in totally transforming every aspect of society from the ground up. When Odin, Vili and Ve faced a similar challenge in the days of Ymir they gladly took up spears to make it so, sharing the burden and joy of creation with all the Powers of the Nine Worlds.

Just as was true of the time of Ymir the causes of this crisis are no mystery. The culprits have names, addresses and powerful institutions protecting them. Their greedy, short-sighted scramble for more ill-gotten gains to feed their insatiable hunger has put all life in jeopardy. These reckless, all-devouring giants have made it clear they will do absolutely anything, even if that means ensuring there will be no future for anyone on this world, to live even more lavishly tomorrow than they did today. If they were monsters of saga and story there would be no question of their villainy.

The choice before everyone is simple, stark and couldn’t be more clear. Even though we face seemingly insurmountable odds the example of the Gods and sagas is undeniable. Immediate action is required from all who hold life, the natural world and everything around us as sacred. In this struggle all must go forward knowing what they do now isn’t just a question of fighting for themselves, it is a matter of ensuring there is a future worth living in at all. Whether your deeds in the coming days are great or small they will ensure that potential has a chance to happen.

The sluggard believes | they shall live forever,
If the fight they faces not;
But age shall not grant them | the gift of peace,
Though spears may spare their life.

Havamal 16, Bellows Translation

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A Place Without Spirit

For modern Norse Pagans the world around us is alive in countless ways. Reality is full of countless beings, known as the vættir (pronounced vie-tear), who are tied to living beings and places. Vættr (pronounced vite) are associated in lore with everything from trees and rivers to mountains and forests. In places where the vættir tread you can almost feel the touch of something beyond sight yet very present, hanging in the air with its own sense of purpose.

Not all the vættir are associated with natural spaces. Some, known as husvættir, are tied to people’s homes and dwellings. According to surviving folklore the Norse peoples left out offerings for their husvættir to build relationships with them, keep them happy and seek their assistance. Though husvættir in folklore were tied to specific dwellings it would make sense for larger public spaces, like parks or community spaces like walkways and public squares, to have their own vættir. Those vættir could be the reason people use a particular space as a place for community and they might also be drawn to such spaces because of people using them for communal purposes.

Even though, from an ethical standpoint, one should act as if everything has or is associated with a vættr not all things do. Some places, like Iceland, are said to have multiple vættr tied to them. Others have may have none either because they never had a vættr associated with them. Such a state is not uncommon in surviving lore and even though it is possible modern practitioners should behave as if all places may have a vættr anyway. The most exceptional circumstances are when a place had their vættr was driven off. As much as this may sound unlikely there is a certain logic behind how this could be possible.

In the ancient world people regularly left out offerings, most of which were food and drink, for the vættir of their homes, the land they lived on or were passing through. This was as much, as was mentioned earlier, for building relationships with them as it was for keeping them happy. This suggests a certain level of reciprocity is necessary to keep the vættir both happy and willing to work with people. It also strongly implies that vættir might become hostile, depending on the actions people take, or even potentially leave if an area is no longer hospitable for them.

In the pre-modern world human capacity to cause such large-scale changes was very limited. This is no longer case in the present day where everything from gentrification to mountaintop removal can radically and rapidly transform spaces anywhere in the world. Destruction of natural spaces to exploit existing resources is clear as far as how it can destroy the spirit of a place but the case of public spaces used by communities is one that is less discussed. If, for example, you replace a beachside promenade that once was a center for community enjoyment with a string of boutique fast fashion stores such development would cut off the vættir from what defined it in much like how clear-cutting a forest would do the same for the vættir of that natural space.

For the modern practitioner this poses some serious ethical challenges. When spaces are treated as shared both by the living things who inhabit them, whether urban, rural or wild, but also by entities whose presence enhances those places then you have to think about place in a very different way. Any serious disruption to a space, either as a habitat or its ability to serve as a community place, has consequences that reverberate beyond the obvious. Often new projects like strip malls or housing blocs are pitched as economically beneficial yet are incredibly destructive socially, ecologically and spiritually. Nothing is ever as simple as how it adds up on a balance sheet somewhere.

Ultimately the specific actions taken to preserve the spirit of a place are up to those who are fighting to preserve what’s worth keeping intact. There are times when changing a place for the better is necessary but this question needs to be assessed in terms of all the potential costs and not just based on promises of future economic prosperity. Profit does no one any good if it comes at the cost of a place’s spirit and what it provided. Whatever answers you reach when facing these challenges must resolve these deeper ethical matters.