As a group, Pagans have a tendency to romanticize Nature in a way that would be both baffling and hilarious, if it didn’t annoy me so often. For all that we like to talk about Paganism being an Earth-centered religion, too few of us actually seem to understand the ways in which our planet functions, and how the life processes that take place every day, all around us, actually work. Moreover, this lack of understanding — which is inexcusable for literate people with such easy access to information — shows a sad lack of respect, given that we are supposed to regard Nature as sacred, the very expression of the immanent gods we revere. None of us are born knowing these things, nor do we have knowledge and lore of the natural world passed down to us from our parents and grandparents, which is a pity. Even so, after you’ve passed the newbie stage, there isn’t any excuse for letting things remain at the point where you are guilty of one of the following, all-too-common examples of Not Getting It:
- Eating and drinking factory-farmed meat, eggs, and dairy, as well as lots of processed food.
- Planning a ritual that involves the planting of a tree that is not native to your area, and thus has almost no chance of survival on its own. Or worse, planting greenery or releasing wildlife which may turn out to become invasive and problematic in the future.
- Declaring that your totem is some glamorous predator, without understanding a single thing about the life cycle and characteristics of that animal. Bonus demerits for claiming a totem which is endangered while doing absolutely nothing to help ensure its survival.
- Leaving inappropriate food offerings out where wildlife can get at them. The local raccoons do not need your Twinkies, no matter what they think.
- Using a lot of petroleum-based wax candles, incense made of the gods know what, semiprecious stones relentlessly yanked from the ground and given awful chemical baths, and ritual tools crafted overseas by people who are probably neither paid nor treated well by their overlords.
- Throwing non-biodegradable objects as offerings into the rivers, lakes, or oceans, assuming that they will wash up on shore and be picked up by some beachgoer later on. There’s a gigantic island of plastic detritus in the Pacific to prove otherwise.
I could go on, but I’ll leave the list as it is or else I’ll just become so annoyed I won’t be able to finish. Now, before you become all defensive and post an angry comment or write me an email asking who the Hel do I think I am, typing all this on my laptop assembled in some small Third World nation, let me say that I, too, have been guilty of some of these acts (and probably a few others as well), which are at odds with my belief that as a Pagan, I should treat the natural world as a holy thing, rather than a combined, never-ending toy chest and bottomless garbage pit. I’m not as aware as I should be, nor as careful as I ought to be. My accusations extend to myself, too. We’re all part of the problem.
That being said, we’re not a religious movement that believes in dwelling on guilt, by and large — so, recognizing that my lifestyle has not always been very conducive to the values I espouse, I’m taking measures to improve the way I view things like the source of my food, the animal world, my local bioregion, the spirits of the land, and my habits of consumption. It’s hard not to be too critical about myself, after years of being not critical enough. However, if you’re like me and are still struggling to rid yourself of the dualistic, either/or sort of thinking that permeates Western culture, it’s important to keep in mind that living more sustainably is a process. It doesn’t really stop. Sometimes, too, we have to compromise. Nobody’s ever going to be perfect at living “in harmony with Nature,” whatever that means — humans leave a mark on the land no matter what we do, and there are too many of us by now to avoid leaving a really big, collective mark. But you and I, as conscious, aware individuals who regard our lovely planet as sacred, may do what we can to ensure that our little, individual marks are not as big or nasty as they could be.
There are plenty of websites, books, magazines, and blogs which will tell you how to get started living a more sustainable, Earth-friendly lifestyle, so I’m not going to rehash any of that information here. What I want to talk about, instead, is how people might approach the Earth, and the things living in and on it, on its/their own terms. This means getting to know, not just the physical and behavior traits, but also the vaettir (spirits) of the birds, animals, plants, trees, rocks, streams, lakes, and other natural features of the land you inhabit now. Not the land you wish you lived in or plan to move to one day, or the land your gods’ original worshipers once inhabited, or the land your ancestors may have come from generations ago, but the place you dwell in right this minute.
You don’t need to be a Steve Irwin or a Jacques Cousteau to do this. Nor do you need a degree in biology. You can simply observe. Get off your ass, turn off the TV or Wii or computer, go outside, and look around. What kind of vegetation is there? What birds do you see? What animal signs can you identify? What is the weather like? Are there any significant natural features, like hills, valleys, mountains, bodies of water, large rocks? If you don’t know a beech tree from a maple, have no idea what milkweed looks like, or can’t tell the difference between a fox and a coyote, get a guidebook or three. Go out at different times of the day and in different weather conditions and seasons, and note how the land changes and how the inhabitants (human and otherwise) react to those changes. Kids are often even better at noticing these things than adults — for one thing, their eyes are closer to the ground, as my dad used to say when my brother and I found things lying around that he’d missed.
Also, when you observe Nature, observe all of it — the icky bits as well as the nice ones. Rot, decay, and death are part of the whole cycle. Shit makes mushrooms and flowers grow. Dead bodies feed the soil. As grossed out as I personally am by maggots, ticks, and leeches, I can’t deny that they have a place in the cycle, and that they are important to the functioning of the whole. Get to know the things in Nature that squick you — in fact, make yourself spend time getting to know them. It’s all too easy to think of Nature as fruit, flowers, and sunlit meadows, but we have to remember that she is also mold, blood, and the fetid corpses of the dead. Samhain isn’t just about the thinning of the veil — once, people slaughtered animals at that time of year, and it was as much about acknowledging that survival depending on blood and rending flesh as it was about honoring the safely non-corporeal souls of the dead.
“But Elizabeth,” you might be saying, “I live in a city, so Nature is far, far away.” Bullshit. Nature is right there under your feet — literally, if you have a cockroach problem. Yes, it can be depressing sometimes, but the city does have an ecosystem of its own, with somewhat different parameters and different inhabitants than the picture of “nature” we Pagans carry around in our heads. If you live in a city, then get to know what lives there with you — weeds and wildflowers in vacant lots, trees on sidewalks, pigeons and rats, stray cats and dogs, the whole nine yards. Visit your local parks, but also keep an eye on the alleys and empty spaces. Urban ecosystems often depend far more on human activity than suburban or rural ones do, but that makes them no less a part of Nature than any other place. After all, we humans are part of Nature as well; the difference between “natural” and “artificial” is, in many cases, merely attributable to our idealized view of what Nature is. That stinky roadkill, covered in flies, is as much a part of Nature as the crows who come to partake of it, or for that matter, the unlucky Highway Service Department employee who might eventually have to take it away.
After you’ve taken the time to observe your neighborhood or immediate surroundings, start to extend your observations. Go further afield. Are there parks or nature preserves or wilderness areas near your home? Visit them. If there are guides or forest rangers around, ask them about local flora and fauna. Look for Audubon Society or Sierra Club events in your area. Learn about the bioregion you live in — what are the average temperatures or annual rain- or snowfall? What geological area do you inhabit? Do you live on a watershed? What kind of rock formations or soils are typical? Are there endangered animals or plants native to your area? If so, find out about local efforts towards preserving these species, and join in. Also, don’t overlook the history of your area and how it had changed the land — New England, for example, started out as old-growth forest before European colonization, was cut down for lumber and farming, and is now becoming covered again by forests that have been allowed to regrow as farming has tapered off. Research how human activities have affected the wildlife where you live. If your ancestors were colonists, learn about how the indigenous people treated the land and lived on it, as well as what your own forebears may have done, for good or ill. Knowing the mistakes of history helps us avoid repeating them, even if that doesn’t seem to happen as often as it should.
During these observations and times of learning, you may begin to experience contact with the land vaettir — human or near-human or completely non-human spirits inhabiting the land or certain significant geological features like particular hills, rocks, waterfalls, or lakes. You may also form plant, tree, or animal allies. Listen to what they tell you, and what they ask you to do. Ask them how you can help preserve and, if necessary, heal the land. If they are angry (and many of them are, understandably) ask if there is anything you can do to make peace. You may be asked to become a custodian of the land, or you may form alliances with some of the spirits around your home. Be respectful, and take these relationships very seriously; they are important, and land vaettir can be invaluable allies in times of need. But don’t do any of this because you expect eventual favors from your local vaettir — do it because the planet we share is holy, and because you love and cherish the natural world as the most sacred expression of the Divine. Do it because nobody else likely is doing it, and because the land needs us as much as we need it.
If you don’t experience any contact from the local spirits, don’t despair. It could be that they are waiting to see what you will do, and to determine if you are a friend or a foe, before they bother to deal with you. Make your actions worthy of their respect. Pick up trash, plant new (native!) trees, volunteer to help clean up areas or take care of wildlife, make your yard chemical-free, xeriscape, do whatever it takes to lessen the impact you’ve made by being there. Relationships with spirits are like relationships with people; some folks are more trusting, while others, due to past abuse or bad experiences, take a while longer to get to know. With few exceptions, if you make the effort to live respectfully and accept the land vaettir on their own terms, your efforts will bear fruit, and you will have fostered an invaluable relationship of mutual benefit. (Not all land vaettir are friendly to humans or can be “healed” of past traumatic events or treatment, however. If you get a strong sense that you are not to go into a particular place, or that the spirits there are unwelcoming, it may not be any of your business to interfere. Someone with more experience, or who specializes in natural magic or has a stronger relationship with the land, might be able to help you best determine what to do, if this is the case.)
Should you be the witchy type (as many of us are), you might think about this: wouldn’t stones and herbs from the place where you actually live be significantly more useful, and less environmentally damaging, than things that might have come from far away? You don’t necessarily need to own or tend an herb garden; just knowing what’s available and not endangered in your area means that you can pick what magical plants you might need, provided you do so mindfully. A wand made from a branch of a nearby tree, perhaps one with whose spirit you’ve already established a relationship, can become a beloved and powerful tool. Stones from underfoot might not be as pretty as that tumbled rose quartz, but then again, a rock tumbler or a Dremel can turn them into something that you find both beautiful and useful. You can find fallen antlers and bones in the forest and desert, river rocks and fossils in stream beds, sand and soil in wild places. If you lack the skill to turn raw materials into ritual tools, find a Pagan-friendly craftsperson to do it for you, using items you’ve collected yourself. Such objects have far more meaning and power than manufactured items, not the least reason being that they provide a direct connection to the land you inhabit.
If you do these things, taking as much time as you need to gain what you believe to be a thorough understanding of the way Nature works in your area, and to build relationships with the local spirits, and to understand the needs and habits of wildlife, then you won’t need to be told why eating less crap or not using paraffin wax is more Earth-friendly than the conventional alternatives. I’ve found, through personal experience and talking to others who’ve done this, that it’s pretty difficult to maintain one’s mental distance from the food one consumes and the things one uses or wastes once you’ve gotten to know the land and everything living there. It’s not unlike how bigots often find it hard to maintain their rotten beliefs once they’ve gotten to know individual members of the groups they dislike. While I’m not a fan of politically correct terminology in general, I belive that “othering” Nature, however well-meant, reduces it to an abstract for most people, and that abstract concepts are way more difficult to think of as holy. Once you really see the way Nature works — its rot and death as well as its nurturing and life — it’s not that easy to keep on eating Big Macs and driving three blocks instead of walking to the corner store. Most of the time, anyway.
Some Heathens argue that one’s relationship with the ancestors and the land spirits was more significant, in terms of day to day life, than one’s relationship with the gods. Whether this is true or not, I don’t know, but regardless of tradition, there is something to be said for fostering a close relationship with the spirits of one’s land. You do not have to “own” the land you live on to become its caretaker, its ally, or its defender, and you do not have to sacrifice any closeness to your ancestors or deities in order to have this sort of relationship with the land. In fact, the land can be there for you, and you for it, in ways that you might not have experienced before. Fostering your relationships with land vaettir, be they beast, bird, tree, plant, stone, fungus, or some other entity, is immensely rewarding, and valuable, in that you better understand how intricate and yet perfect the balance of Nature is, when it’s working as it should. (And if it isn’t, you are better prepared to help alleviate that as well. It may not be your personal fault that someone dumped their trash in that empty field, but now that you’ve taken the trouble to get to know the local land vaettir, they may well view it as your responsibility to do something about it.)
This is not meant as an all-inclusive guide, nor does doing any of these things guarantee that you’ll become Ye Olde Guardian of Ye Ancient Woodlande or anything that dramatic. But it can’t hurt to know as much as you can about the place where you live, and far too many of us don’t have that essential knowledge, despite our professions of this being a Nature-centered faith. And while I may have started this post with a cynical comment or two, I do believe that most of us are sincere in our love and concern for the natural world, and want to do our best to show it. There is always room for improvement, however. I heard a story recently about an ill-fated butterfly release at a nighttime ritual — to the delight of the resident bat population, and the horror of many attendees. Some basic research into the local ecosystem could have prevented that from happening. We need to know just what it is we’re calling holy before we attempt to show how holy we find it.
To love something intimately, one needs to know it intimately, and as Pagans, our love for Nature needs to be based in an understanding and appreciation of what it really is about. I strongly feel that the best way to do that isn’t through doing well-meaning but clueless rituals to “heal the Earth” while bedecked in crystals strip-mined in Argentina, but by coming to it directly with open minds and hearts. The rewards are immeasurable, and the sacredness impossible to ignore. I’ll be working on getting to know my own neck of the woods; I hope you will, too.
