[Editor’s Note: This piece is included in She Summons: Why… Goddess Feminism, Activism and Spirituality?” Volume 1 (Mago Books, 2021).]
There are many things lacking in our world today – many fundamental aspects of human experience that have for a long time been repressed and restricted, and have resulted in a vast array of societal and cultural ills. Deep, unflinching self-reflection and a willingness to stare into, embrace, understand, and navigate our own darkness, our own shadows, is one pivotal piece of the human experience that the vast majority shy away from. Far too often empathy, a critical aspect of engaging with, caring for, and understanding other humans, has gone unrewarded or even punished in societies that value rugged individualism over collective community. Compassion falls to the wayside, service to the community becomes undervalued and even criminalized, people become isolated, afraid, hurt, and angry.
We live in deeply troubled times. The specter of climate change bears ever harder down on us, already taking lives as island communities lose land, as hurricanes come at us more fiercely and frequently, as polar vortexes wander the globe and huge swaths of land go up in flame. Fascism has made an unsettling come back. Water protectors are left in jail or with crippling legal fees while the pipelines they fought against hemorrhage oil into the water and soil that ecosystems and human communities depend on. And by and large, people are fed up.
It has been through a long process of both outgrowing the narrow and simplistic worldview of the protestant church I grew up in that I came to walk neopagan paths. It was through the slow process of getting to know myself that I have grown into a paganism which values bodily and spiritual autonomy regardless of gender and values healthy relationships with the self, the community, and the planet – and which values all life as sacred, not only human life, and not only the lives of particularly relatable non-human animals. It is through the process of growing fed up with an inequitable status quo that does more harm than good, both to human communities and to the ecosystems that support them, that I have become so thoroughly enmeshed with the fierce Norse goddesses I work with.
Goddesses of old, in their own, unique ways, can teach us how to access and fully experience our capacity for empathy, compassion, and the ways in which we can formulate simple acts of service as sacred acts. Many of them also offer a gateway to accessing the deeper, darker wells of our human nature, and a path to incorporating those shadows into ourselves, so that we can become truly whole, rather than the compromised, fragmented beings a perverse society demands us to be.
Each goddess varies in Her approach to these things, and each approach to these goddesses will yield different journeys, different evolutions, and different outcomes. One of the beautiful things about goddess spirituality that is lacking in mainstream religious experience is the acknowledgment and acceptance that one size does not fit all. Depending on our cultural backgrounds, our neuro-chemical makeup, our experience with trauma or mental illness, etc. we will have different experiences and views of the world. Goddess spirituality provides the space for these differences. Much of goddess spirituality focuses on recovering the power that has long been denied to women and femmes by patriarchal governing powers, and doing so in a way that promotes peace and understanding. There are also, however, spaces within goddess spirituality which embrace feminine rage as sacred, too, and embrace the power of that rage, whether it come from Kali, Lilith, the Morrigan, or any number of other ancient, fierce, goddesses who do not shy away from a fight.
We are, all of us, sacred.
Goddess spirituality reminds us of this – that everything is sacred or nothing is. It pushes us to find the sacred within ourselves, even within our own shadows, and it pushes us to find the sacred in the simplicity of our lives. Under the tutelage of one goddess I have discovered an ability to meditate through basic housework – to find the quiet and stillness in mundane acts that gives my mind and soul a reprieve from a world that is often too loud, too busy, too harsh. Another goddess reminds me that even righteous rage in the face of inequity is sacred. She guides me toward acts of civil disobedience and resistance to oppressive systems that would smoother communities and snuff out lives in the name of wealth and power. Yet another guides me toward small and simple acts of community service in Her honor.
As a polytheist and a pantheist who primarily follows the “Dark Deities” of the Norse pantheon, but who occasionally works with deities of other pantheons as well, I could easily write whole essays on the lessons I’ve learned from each goddess I’ve engaged with. They all have their own things to say, their own wisdom to impart, and they all have every potential to enact real change on this world through the sacred hands of their adherents.
For now, I would like to look at three goddesses whose force I’ve felt in my life most potently, even though their myths have been lost to the ages.
Sigyn
Not much is remembered about Sigyn, but we do know this from her surviving lore: she was the wife of Loki and mother to his children, who she lost when one was turned into a wolf to kill the other. In the wake of this tragedy she stayed by her imprisoned husband’s side, holding a simple bowl above his head to capture the venom that dripped from a snake tied above him.
The most common interpretation of Sigyn is as a goddess of loyalty and fidelity. Investigating scraps of lost lore, such as the meaning of her name (“victory woman”) and the kenning “Incantation Fetter,” we can clearly see that there was so much more to this goddess than has survived into the modern era. She was, and is, so much more than her loyalty to her husband, as all women are so much more than their relationships to their spouses.
Empathy for the Wounded. Sigyn is a mother who lost both of her sons in one violent blow. As such I have always associated Sigyn with a strong compassion for those who have sustained great wounds of the heart, mind, and spirit, especially children.
Serving the Survivors. As a survivor of loss, violence, and trauma herself, Sigyn’s domain is survivors and survival. Those who have endured trauma to struggle through the aftermath fall under her care, so those who work with and honor her may feel the call to enact that care in the world. Through my work at a domestic violence shelter and with AmeriCorps I have worked with dozens of children who have witnessed and survived physical, sexual, and psychological abuse; children who have endured hunger, homelessness, familial substance abuse, and losing caretakers to mental illness, addiction, jail, or death. I feel called to provide comfort and lend strength to these children, to be for them kind of adult every child needs to uplift them, so that perhaps they can begin to mend those wounds and grow stronger out of all that they have endured.
Grief as Shadow. Not all shadows are the rage, gluttony, or lust of our deeper animal selves. Sometimes our shadows are formed from the injuries we have sustained and the losses we have survived. In Sigyn I have seen the ways in which grief can twist and warp us how the trauma of loss can fundamentally alter our core understanding of our own being and make us into strangers to ourselves. But it is only when this grief is denied, when we do not embrace and accept the fullness and validity of our own experiences and emotions, that our grief may turn into a parasite, eating away at our hearts and minds, unseen and unrecognized. Accepted, welcomed, and held, permitted to be incorporated into our whole being, we are able to move forward with our grief rather than held back by it, and to rediscover the person we are becoming.
Angrboda
Angrboda is believed by many to be the völva from Voluspa and is known as the mother of Fenrir, Jörmungand, and Hel by Loki, but there isn’t much about her in the lore. She is a jötunn, however, and the lore makes very clear that the jötnar are an incredibly diverse lot: they are described in all manner of shapes, forms, and sizes.
Beyond the little that we know from the lore, in modern practice many people associate Angrboda with strength and leadership, particularly in often being viewed as a powerful figure among the jötnar of the Ironwood. This is drawn not only from scholarly inferences and extrapolations (from mentions of an unnamed jötunn woman in Járnvid or the Ironwood in both Voluspa as well as Gylfaginning that appears to have connection to Loki) but is also informed by Unverified Personal Gnosis (UPG) and Peer or Community Verified Personal Gnosis (PVPG / CVPG).
Empathy for the Different. Through my work as an activist, I have found that one of the most important things I can do to care for and uplift the oppressed and underrepresented is to seek out and listen to their stories, listen to their voices, and take their words to heart. Quieting myself and earnestly listening to these diverse voices builds empathy and expands one’s worldview beyond our own, very limited sphere of existence. As a devotee of Angrboda, whose very nature as a heart of jötunn power represents the strength in nature’s diversity of life, I have learned the importance of taking to heart the narratives of those who are unlike me as a means to at least begin understanding and care for world views and experiences different to my own.
Serving the Oppressed. The outcasts, the downtrodden, the freaks and the weirdos – especially as those things are defined by dominate hegemonic society – are Angrboda’s tribe, her children. They fall under her dominion and, as her devotee, they are the ones I must seek to serve – to uplift and uphold, to amplify their voices, to support in their own self-defense and to stand in defense of them when necessary. This is my tribe, too, and I mustn’t let them or Her down.
Feminine Ferocity as the Shadow. I say ferocity here to encompass both the idea of willfulness and of rage. In many cultures around the world, but in particular in westernized cultures, a woman or femme’s force of will is often degraded and dismissed as bossiness, being overbearing, being a bitch. Her anger is called an overreaction, it’s played as immaturity, as shrillness – again, it makes her a bitch. Because most women and femmes are raised in this cultural/social paradigm, this fear and antagonism towards female/femme will and rage is often internalized, creating the potential to alienate ourselves from our own capacity for enacting our will upon the world as well as our capacity for righteous fury. These innate elements of our basic human nature become our shadow – a shadow to be embraced and incorporated into the wholeness of our being, which carries within it the potential of empowerment.
Jord
As with Sigyn and Angrboda, the surviving lore records almost nothing about Jord. What we do know of her is that she is a jötunn woman who embodies the earth. She is the mother of Thor and is referred to in Gylfaginning as the daughter of Nót and Anarr. Because she plays no role in the myths and we have no surviving lore about her outside of these scraps, some scholars think she likely wasn’t honored or considered a literal, personified entity in her own right, but was rather considered a general concept.
Regardless how much or how little we know of Jord, and regardless whether or not she was ever worshiped or honored in the past, she is an increasingly important entity in the modern era, one who has her mirror in earth goddesses the world over. From the Greek Gaia to the Baltic Zeme, the Hindu Prithvi and the Maori Papatuanuku and more, Jord is one of an impressive pantheon of earth goddesses who personify the planet on which we live and the soil under our feet. In the era of climate change and the increasing severity and frequency of related climate catastrophes, these goddesses remind us of the desperate importance of valuing and caring for the earth that sustains us.
Empathy for Nature. The entirety of the ecosystem that supports you and I was built out of the basic elements of our planet Earth – and though we may have the ability to conceptualize this world in ways other animals and plants don’t, that doesn’t mean that their existence isn’t just as rich and valuable as our own. The earth herself existed in a state of tumultuous and furious change long before the first signs of life ever appeared on her surface. Every stone and every particle of sand has lived a longer and more exciting life than we mere humans could ever fathom. Every life form that has come to exist on Earth has found a niche to exist in, and plays its role in an expansive, complex network that depends on and co-exists with Earth – and we must remember that we are a part of that network, not separate from or superior to it.
Serving Life. To serve the planet and the rich ecosystems which inhabit it is to serve Life itself. Jord cannot be separated from the very concept of Life as without Her, without this marvellous planet that supports and sustains us all, there is no Life. Work that seeks to protect and restore the Earth and all Her beautiful nature is work that reveres Life and seeks to uplift and uphold all that falls under this umbrella.
The Wild as the Shadow. Modern humans, in particular those in the westernized world, have long endeavored to craft a worldview which envisions us as separate from and superior to nature. Some of this is rooted in the Judeo-Christian worldview that, in common interpretations, positions humans (in particular men) as stewards of and therefore dominant over nature. This worldview has been adapted in the secular world to support widespread industrialization which exploits the earth and Her resources, not to mention huge swaths of the human population (most commonly the global south, which remains largely disadvantaged due to a long history of colonialism). Through this process, the wild itself has often been portrayed as something to be subdued and conquered. Any human populations living in close relationship with the land have been portrayed as animals to be removed, put down, or “reformed” (often via brutal genocides). Our own animal natures and our position as a part of nature has been erased and re-written, oftentimes violently.
Though this worldview has perpetuated widespread destruction of habitats that support expansive and complex ecosystems as well as the on-going genocide of indigenous populations the world over, we in the western world have been taught that it is the things associated with our animal natures which are shameful, that it is nature Herself that is dirty or even wicked. Breaking down the barriers that have been built between us and our own nature as well as the nature all around us is one of many keys to healing ourselves. It is vital to beginning to heal the damage done by generations of imperialism and capitalism to our planet and the many ecosystems and communities than inhabit it.
Why exactly have I been pulled to these goddesses and others like them? Why have I gone willingly into their arms and actively sought to do their work through various forms of sociopolitical activism, work, and protest?
The lessons these goddesses provide, and the values they embody, are ones that are absolutely vital for recovering from the damage done spiritually and psychologically to our generations by those that came before. These values and these lessons are paramount in breaking cycles of toxicity which prioritize men to the detriment of women and femmes; which prioritizes white people over people of color; which values profit and capital over health and well-being; that prioritizes “being appropriate and proper” over honesty and communication.
We come to goddess spirituality as those who have been wounded, as those who have been shut out of mainstream discourse and community, as those who are fed up. We come to this spirituality as those who have seen our loved ones wounded and shunned for not fitting into societal prescriptions of the ideal. We come to this spirituality fighting for our families, our communities, our planet, our future, and for the future of all life on earth. We come looking for a balm to our weary souls and a place that will accept us for our cracks and crookedness, and we find a space that not only gives us room to heal and to grow, but commands it.
In a world which is dying as a result of imperialistic capitalism, white supremacy, and violent, hetero- and cis-normative patriarchy, goddess spirituality which centers empathy, community building, and supporting and uplifting one another is a radical alternative to an inherently violent norm. This kind of spirituality calls on us to actively work to heal the wounds done by that inherent violence, to heal ourselves and our community. It calls on us to ensure that the poisons of years past are not handed down to the next generations or at the very least are mitigated, reduced, and manageable for those who come next to continue that healing process.
This kind of spirituality and the activism that it inspires and necessitates are a balm to a world that has been deeply wounded. It is the kind of spirituality that guides us towards a better future and offers us hope. But it does demand that we do the work – for ourselves, for our communities, for the future we dream of.
Why? Because it is imperative.
Tahni J. Nikitins is a writer and student residing in Washington State, where she works in a youth shelter while completing her masters in Clinical Mental Health Counseling. Her writings include Bindings, a series of short stories published in Eternal Haunted Summer, as well as Is It Any Wonder published in A Beautiful Resistance: The Crossing, In the Course of a Pilgrimage in the anthology My Wandering Uterus, and Only A Dream in the anthology Terror Politico.