Winifred Hodge Rose
As Bor’s sons were going along the sea strand they found two trees, and took up the trees and shaped men therefrom. … They gave them clothing and names, calling the karl-man Askr and the woman Embla. (from Gylfaginning in the Prose Edda)
Odin said: My clothes I gave, along the way, To two tree-people. They thought themselves heroes when they had clothing; The naked person is ashamed. (Havamal verse 49, in the Poetic Edda)
Until three came, crossing over from elsewhere, Potent and loving Aesir from their homes. And found on the land Ask (Ash) and Embla (?Elm), With little megin, lacking orlay. (without human power and destiny) (Voluspa verse 17, in the Poetic Edda)
In these beautiful passages from the Old Norse lore, we see that in the misty depths of time, the Gods shaped human beings out of trees. This belief is common to other Indo-European peoples, and other peoples of the world as well. But why trees? The Abrahamic religions and some other religious traditions maintain that humans were shaped from earth, and other traditions tell of yet different origins, but our own faith links us with the trees. What is it about trees that makes them suitable for this transformation? Let us first explore what scholars can show us about the Indo-European linguistic connections between trees and vital essence or life-soul, as shown in Table 1. (Note that in the process of language evolution, the sounds ‘p’ and ‘k’ often transmute to the sounds ‘f’ and ‘h’, respectively.)
Table 1.
| Language | Trees | Life-Soul |
| Proto-Indo-European | *perkwu = oak | *perku |
| Prim. Germanic / Gothic | furh-jon = fir | *fairhw |
| Old High German / Old Saxon/ Old Frisian | fereh-eih = oak foraha = pine | ferah, ferh, ferch, verch |
| Old Norse | fjörr = tree fura = pine fyri = fir | fjör = life-soul fjörr = living being |
| Anglo-Saxon | furh = pine | feorh, ferhth |
| Modern English Modern German | fir tree Föhre = pine | — |
(* The asterisk is used before Proto-Indo-European (PIE) and Proto-Germanic words to indicate that these words are reconstructed using linguistic science. There are no written records of language going back to the time before the Indo-European peoples split off from one another.)
Votive offerings to a group of Germanic Matron-Goddesses, dating to the time of the Roman Empire, link these two groups of meanings very neatly. The Goddesses are called Alaferhwiae, ‘The All-Ferhw-Ones’, and their votive stones show images of trees. The name has been variously interpreted as ‘the great life-giving ones’ and ‘the goddesses belonging to all trees’ (Simek p. 5). In my view the connection between trees and life-soul removes any contradiction between these interpretations. There are many more words derived from those listed above, that flesh out our understanding of the Germanic life-soul concept. Table 2 shows just a few of them.
Table 2.
| Language | Term | Translation |
| Proto-Indo-European | *perku | chest, rib (the place where the soul lives) |
| Gothic | fairhwus | the world, “house of the fairhw” |
| Anglo-Saxon | feorhus feorhbana feorhbera feorhcynn ferhth | – body, chest, “house of the feorh” – feorh-bane, murderer – feorh-bearer, living being – feorh-kin, kindred of the living – mind, intellect, spirit |
| Old Saxon | firibarn firihi feraht | – child of humankind – the folk – devoutly wise |
All of these terms link together: (a) trees, (b) the vital principle or life-soul, (c) the human body as the dwelling place for this soul, (d) wisdom as the expression of this soul, (e) the idea of humans as ‘children of this soul’, and (f) the kinship among all humans, which is conferred by their common possession of this soul. Terms like Feorhcynn and Fjörr also apply to all living beings, not only humans.
Ferah and the Gods
Though in biological, evolutionary terms, humans are more closely connected with animals than with trees, there is a unique characteristic that trees and humans share: we are both upright, vertical, and by our upright nature we serve as conduits between earth-power and sky-power. Table 3 shows the close linguistic connections between the life-soul words I listed above and Gods, Earth and Sky powers.
Table 3.
| Language | Life-Soul | Earth / Deity | Thunder / Deity |
| Proto-Indo-Europ. | *perku | — | *Perkwunos Thunder God |
| Old Norse | fjör | – Fjörgyn (Earth Goddess) – Fjörgynn (father of Frigg) – fjarg (“Gods,” plural form) – fjarghus (Gods’ house, temple) | Thor Thunder-God, son of Fjörgyn Earth-Goddess |
| Old Prussian Lithuanian, Latvian Old Russian | — | — | – percunis = thunder – Perkunas Thunder-God – Perunu Thunder- God |
| Anglo-Saxon Middle High German | feorh verch | fyrgen = forested mountain virgunt = ditto | – |
| Gothic | fair, fairhw | fairgunni = forested mountain region | – |
There seems to be what semanticists call a ‘bundle’ of meanings rooted in Proto-Indo-European that includes closely-related words for: oak, Thunder-God, strike (*per), and stone. There are various views as to which words are more closely derived from each other, but there is also a general sense that all of these words are interrelated. The Thunder-God strikes trees with a thunderbolt in the form of a stone hammer, causing lightning and fire to spring out. The ‘stone’ connection extends into the word-domain of rocks, mountains and other earth features. Thus, *Perkwus, the Oak, is the bridge that links *perku / fairhw / ferah, the life-soul, with *Perkwunos Thunder-God, his stone hammer and his strike, his *per. Oak is the bridge between soul and God-power.
There is a widely-held belief that when the thunderbolt strikes the oak, it does not ‘cause’ fire in the tree, but rather ‘releases’ the fire that is already within it. This makes me think of the Old English rune poem for Yew (Eihwaz), which calls Yew the “keeper of the fire.” This is also the reason why the Need-Fire, made with a fire-drill, is the most sacred form of ‘domesticated’ fire: fire is not brought to the wood, rather fire is released from it by the drill.
The idea of a God releasing fire from a tree is very close to the idea of Gods shaping, or even ‘releasing’ humans from trees, fire being a frequent analogy for ‘life.’ I speculate that Thor, as well as (obviously) his Mother Fjorgyn / Earth, is deeply involved in bringing into being and nurturing the Ferah souls of trees and other living beings. Though science doesn’t yet completely understand how life began on Earth, among the ideas considered for this is the role of meteorites, and possibly lightning: Thor and his Hammer stand behind these images too! We see Thor as a life-giver when he swings his Hammer over the bones of his slaughtered goats, bringing them back to life. His Hammer brings fertility to the lap of the bride and ripeness to the fields of gleaming grain.
With all of this, I wonder whether Thor was the one, in much earlier times than we have records for, who was credited with bringing human life from trees. Based on linguistic clues this would make sense; he would not necessarily have been the one giving specific gifts such as Ond or Wode, but he and his Hammer might have been the actual ‘releaser’ of the human life-soul from the wood, just as he releases fire from within it. As I shall show farther on, the word ‘release’ is also used to describe what happens to the Ferah at the moment of death, the other end of the process.
So, here is a story of beginnings, expanded from the Old Norse tales:
Trees, rooted in Mother Earth, attract lightning bolts, Sky-God power. And so, one mythic day, Thor rode the clouds above a forest in his beloved Midgard, while from Asgard three mighty brothers set forth in that direction, all coming at last to a strand between the forest and the sea. Together the Gods came across two trees there, trees with great Ferah-spirits of their own that drew the Gods’ awareness like magnets. Raising his Hammer, the Hallower of Midgard gave the life-releasing blow, striking one tree on the fore-swing and the other on the back-swing. The trees-becoming-humans stood there between Mother Earth and Father Sky, between negative and positive poles of power, and felt the God-mains flowing through them in brilliant surges of actinic light.
And so the Ferah-souls within these trees burst forth as flames and were transformed into Ferahs of new beings, human beings, different but akin to the ancient spirits of the woods. The Sons of Bor gave their great gifts: breath and spirit, wode and speech. They clothed these transformed Ferah-spirits with the human shape, the Hama, so they would not be naked spirits in a world of tree-clothed wights. Human Hamas are so skillful and powerful that Ask and Embla, as Odin remarked, felt like heroes when they had been so clothed!
At Ragnarok, human souls will take shelter within the beleaguered Tree. Then, at the beginning of the new cycle of time, Lif and Lifthrasir will come forth as flames of life from the sheltering wood, just as their forebears Ask and Embla did, so many generations before.
The Evolutionary Perspective
In our myths about the creation of humans from trees, we can view our primal human substance literally as trees, or we can view it as the Ferah soul-substance itself: Ferah which gives life to all physical beings and which shares its name with trees, storm powers and earth powers. I follow both beliefs in different layers of my consciousness. At the mythic level of consciousness I find the idea of descent from trees to be deeply meaningful; all that I wrote, above, is true to me in a way that has no need for scientific logic. At the more modern, scientific level my understanding is that our Ferah life-soul goes way back to pre-human stages of evolution. At some point during the physical process of evolution, the Gods gave pre-human beings a human spirit, human qualities and powers, and the Norns gave us the collective orlay, the fate, of human-ness. Thus we made the shift from pre-human to human beings, bringing our Ferah with us, and along with it our kinship with the Feorhcynn, the kindred of all living beings.
Ferah can be understood as the soul which places us in an evolutionary context and connection with the other forms of life in Midgard. As humans emerged from pre-human beings, Thor and the other Fjarg, the Gods and Goddesses, played a great role in this process. From Thor’s lightning, humans first obtained their fire, and his stone hammer was the prototype for tools that brought food and other needs to our forbears: throwing axes, hoes, and other tools and weapons. Midgard’s Defender, a patron and inspirer of everyday, life-sustaining work, was with us back then, too!
As I mentioned above, the PIE words *perku (life-soul), *perkus (chest, breast), and *per (to strike) are all closely related to words for the Thunder-God and his actions. The Latin root of our word “percussion” comes from the same source. These words are all part of a logic-circle that looks like this: life-soul / chest / heartbeat / drumbeat / thunder / Thunder-God / God-power / life-soul. In addition to the thunder / heartbeat aspect, there is the element of lightning / electricity and its functions in our body. Our brain and nervous system functions, inter-cellular reactions, and the regulation of our heartbeat, are just a few examples of the essential bio-electric life-functions set into motion within us by the God of Lightning.
There are three ancient words that well capture the interconnection of humans, the world, and the Gods: each is the same word in a different language; each expresses one aspect of the whole. Anglo-Saxon feorhus means “house of the Feorh,” and it refers to the body, sometimes just the chest, as the home of the Ferah-soul. Gothic fairhwus means “house of the Fairhw,” and refers to the world as a whole, the place where all Ferah-souls live their lives. And Old Norse fjarghus, “house of the Fjarg,” is the temple or Gods-house, the place where the Gods who give life and soul are honored in Midgard.
The Nature of the Ferah
Without Ferah, there is no life. Grimm mentions that one of the many German folk-names for the personified figure of Death is the ferch-grimme, a monstrous figure who “has designs upon the life or soul (ferch)” (p. 849). Ferah is so much associated with life that often modern scholars simply translate the Germanic Ferah-words as “life”, which works alright in most contexts as long as we understand what is meant by “life.” We are not speaking of life-span, lifetime, the duration of life: this is the domain of our Aldr soul. We are also not speaking of anything like life-style, way of life, making a living. Nor is Ferah some kind of philosophical abstraction or amorphous biological principle. Although modern linguists translate the PIE *perku as “life force, vital principle,” I doubt that our Indo-European forebears thousands of years ago thought in terms of “principles” and “forces;” they probably thought in much more concrete, substantive terms. The Germanic Ferah-as-life was conceived of as an actual substance which conferred life by its presence, and caused death by its absence. It was pictured as a fluid substance which fills the body: the term ferahes gifullid, filled with Ferah, is used a number of times in the Old Saxon Heliand, particularly with reference to Jesus as one who was filled with an especially sacred and powerful Ferah soul. (The Heliand is an Old Saxon poem that retells the Christian gospel story in very Germanic imagery and language, a useful resource for understanding how native Saxon words relating to the souls were used.) In the description of Jesus’ resurrection, the Heliand author says that after his death the Ferah was no longer within the flesh, but then the flesh was again “filled” with Ferah at the time of resurrection. This quasi-material nature of Ferah also comes across in a phrase from Beowulf. When Beowulf is facing the dragon, he knows that his Feorh will not be “wrapped in flesh” for very much longer; he knows that death and Wyrd are very near (ll. 2419 ff.).
We get an impression here of something like an etheric substance which is congruent with the physical body during life. It is both similar and dissimilar to the etheric body as it is understood today. The etheric-substance nature of the Ferah is quite clear from the ancient descriptions, and as I shall discuss below, many of our body-related sensations and instincts seem to be rooted as much in our Ferah as they are in our Lich, our physical body. In this much, the Ferah is similar to the modern etheric body concept. But it is different in that the Ferah is not a template which shapes our physical body; in Germanic thought, this role is played by the Hama. Nor can the Ferah leave the body and roam outside it during life, as the etheric body is understood to be capable of: that is a power of other souls.
There’s an intriguing mention of the Ferah / Fjör in Hervör’s Saga, ch. 4 (a part of Heidrek’s Saga). The viking-leader Hervör has gone to the burial mounds of her father and his eleven brothers, all berserks who died in battle, to take her father’s sword Tyrfing from his howe. Much argument ensues between Hervör and the shade or Dwimor of her father Angantyr Arngrimsson, who doesn’t want to give her the sword because it will bring ill luck to her and her line. Finally Hervör gets the sword, and as Angantyr bids her farewell, he makes a statement that sounds like a father’s blessing, but hampered because he is dead and she is living. He tells her: “Freely I’d bestow on you the Fjör of twelve men, if you trust in the might, power and courage, and all the good that Arngrim’s sons left behind themselves.” (My translation; the original: “Flótt gæfak ðér tólf manna fjör, ef ðú trúa mættir, afl ok eljun, allt it góða ðat er synir Arngríms at sik leifðu.”) This seems to be simply his good wishes toward her, since presumably the Fjörvi of the dead are no longer available. But the description “might, power and courage, and all the good” gives us some idea of what the gift of Fjör would involve, if it were possible to give it. It’s also intriguing to meditate on the idea of ‘giving Fjör / Ferah’, and what that might mean in a metaphysical sense.
The Ferah registers all the sensations, perceptions and emotions that occur within the Lich. For example, the Anglo-Saxon “Sith Gealdor” or journey-charm contains the line “may my feorh never be frightened” by the perils of travel (Storms p. 216-223). The Feorh can suffer ‘feorhcwala,’ torment and torture of the Feorh, when the body is wounded, tortured, or mortally ill. The mortally-wounded Grendel in Beowulf is called ‘feorhseoc’ (feorh-sick). In the Heliand, the author says that when one is captured, one’s enemies have power over the Ferah, but not over the Seola (Saiwalo soul) (ll. 3807 – 10). The Old High German poet Otfrid used the phrase ‘ferahe stechan’, to ‘stab the Ferah’ (Becker p. 34): when the body is stabbed, the Ferah is, too. These are examples of the close connection between the Lich and the Ferah: the Ferah is the one that actually perceives and feels cues in the environment (frightening situations, threat of injury), which set in motion instinctive and physiological responses within the Ferah-Lich complex, such as fear, pain, fever, etc.
The Ferah is intimately involved with all the vital functions of our body: our physiology and metabolism, our neurotransmitter and endocrine functions, our responses to environmental cues, and our growth and deterioration in youth and age, health and disease. I believe that the channels and reservoirs of the life-energy, sometimes called Qi or Prana, are located within the Ferah, another point of commonality between Ferah and the modern etheric body concept. All of these life functions are logical outgrowths of Ferah’s intimate connection with nature and all the powers and energies of nature, both mundane and divine.
Beyond physical and environmental responsiveness, our Ferah soul can feel ‘higher’ emotions, and can be characterized by different qualities such as wisdom, holiness, or cruelty. The Gothic word wai-fairhwjan means ‘wail-fairhw-ing’, vocally expressing heartfelt grief that is felt in the Ferah. The Ferah is present in the accord or discord existing between people: in Skirnismal of the Poetic Edda, Gerdhr says angrily to Skirnir that she will never live with Freyr with their Fjörs in good accord together (vs. 20). In the Old Saxon Heliand, the disciples of John the Baptist are described as ‘helagferaha,’ with holy Ferahs. In Beowulf, happiness is expressed by saying that the Ferhth rejoices. The poem also says of prince Heremod that ‘within his ferhth grew a breast-hoard of cruelty’ (l. 1818-9).
The Ferah is perceptive, aware and responsive to physical, social, and divine cues in the environment. This leads us to the meaning of the word ferhth in Anglo-Saxon, translated as ‘mind, intellect, soul, spirit.’ Ferhth is derived from the same root as feorh: Anglo-Saxon is odd in its tendency to split word-concepts that are unitary in other Germanic languages into two different words. Usually feorh is refers more to life-soul functions while ferhth refers more to wisdom-soul activities. It is often used in contexts implying wisdom and knowledge in worldly social interactions, as for example a wise member of a governing council or the advisor to a king. The Old Saxon Heliand gives a picture of a different kind of wisdom. There, a feraht person is someone who is deeply pious and devout, who focuses his or her life on the Divine, and derives from that attentiveness a more spiritual kind of wisdom.
Ferah, Law, and Priesthood
A number of people in the Old Saxon Heliand are described as feraht, and it is interesting to examine the context of this adjective. It is used to mean ‘wise, pious, meticulous in following religious laws and obligations.’ Though the Heliand is presented in an entirely Christian context, the words ferah and feraht, as I have shown above, are ancient Germanic words and obviously had a Heathen meaning long before they were used in Christian texts. By examining persons who were described as feraht in the Heliand, we can get at least a glimpse of what this word meant to Heathens.
The most detailed example of a feraht person is perhaps the Jewish temple priest Zacharias, the father of John the Baptist. Zacharias was described in the gospel of Luke (Ch.1) as being righteous and perfect, following all religious laws, serving a great deal of his time in the temple, a faultless man. These qualities were summed up by the Heliand-poet as feraht. The connection between piety and law is very strong here. This brings to mind an ancient Germanic term for a Heathen priest: Aeweweard in Anglo-Saxon, Éwart (rhymes with ‘K-mart’) in Old High German. This word means ‘warder of the law,’ and meant primarily religious laws and observances, though there were not strict boundaries between religious and secular law.
The word ewa, aewe, or eu meaning law, was also a word for marriage: it implied a covenant, a state of troth that has its lawful obligations and responsibilities. (Modern German still uses this word for marriage: Ehe.) The similarity between religious troth and wedded troth is very clear. So my understanding of the Aeweweard or Ewart is a person who embodied and upheld Heathen troth, Heathen religious laws, customs and observances, and who mediated these values between the folk and the Gods in a trained, professional capacity. Such a person, based on examples in the Heliand, was called feraht, though the word is also applied to laypersons with the same kinds of personal qualities and spiritual strength.
So far, there may have been considerable overlap between feraht as used by Heathens and Christians. My guess is, however, that Heathens brought another dimension into the equation: for them, piety meant power. In the first place, pious practices tried to ensure that the Gods would not be angered, and luck would not be lost, due to human mistakes. More than that, piety was a way to tune oneself and one’s folk into the patterns and powers of the Gods, as expressed in nature and in the occurrences of their lives. The better one could do that, the more luck, hamingja, and help one could expect to have. Feraht wisdom and power comes from the Gods, from nature, from the ambient life-force. It is gained through right action and right being, living in accordance with one’s true nature and the patterns of Wyrd. While anyone could pursue such an aim, the priests and priestesses would have been expected to devote themselves fully to it.
The Roman historian Tacitus (p. 66) tells us that Germanic priests were the only ones who had the right to sentence a lawbreaker to fettering or any form of corporal punishment, including death; not even kings or chieftains had this right at that period of time. We also know of the powerful Cimbri tribe (probably Germanic, though possibly Celtic), whose priestesses were responsible for sacrificial execution of war-captives. (Owen p. 195). Here I think we see one of the connections between priests, law, and the Ferah as a life-soul which suffers whatever the body suffers. In descriptions of Jesus’ judicial torture in the Saxon Heliand, it is specifically stated that his Ferah (and his Aldr soul) are the actual subjects of the torture (ll. 10983-4). Law codes in all the Germanic languages throughout the Middle Ages used the term Ferah (fjör, feorh, verch, etc) when referring to capital punishment. A criminal’s Ferah was the scyld or debt owed for a capital crime, and it was stated specifically in those terms. For example, in the Heliand the phrase ist thes ferahes scolo, the Ferah is the debt owed, is used a number of times.
I don’t know all the reasons for the custom described by Tacitus, that only priests could apply corporal punishment, nor do we know how widespread it was. Certainly their knowledge of the law would have been a major reason, even though the scholar de Vries states that the Éwart was not the same person or function as the Ésaga, the secular Lawspeaker (Section 277 of Altgermanische Religionsgeschichte). But I speculate that the most ancient, primitive reason for having such a custom would have been that only priests could deal safely with the debt and punishment of people’s souls. Only a feraht priest, with a powerfully developed and warded Ferah, might have authority over the dangerous, angry, desperate Ferah of a criminal or captive.
By being truly feraht, priests might protect themselves and their people from vengeful souls that considered themselves mortally wronged by execution or other corporal punishment. (This kind of thinking can be seen in the beliefs and customs of traditional shamans, in the emphasis they place on constantly protecting themselves through various arcane procedures from the dangers of dealing with the dying and the dead.) And if worst came to worst, if the priests were affected by the curses of the angry dying and dead, it would be less disastrous to the folk to have the priest’s orlay and luck damaged than that of the king or chieftain who carried the luck of the whole folk. Certainly kings and warriors were the most common death-dealers with all their wars and feuds, rather than priests, and surely this had some effect on their souls. But I suspect that there was a significant difference, felt within the Ferah whose nature is to be pious, between a shameful execution as an outlaw or captive, versus more “normal” and even admired forms of death in feud or battle.
Ferah and Sacrifice
By being feraht, Germanic priests reduced the likelihood that they and their folk would be affected by the curses of lawfully punished and executed people, whether outlaws or sacrificial captives. But there is an even closer connection between Ferah and sacrifice: I think it is the Ferah soul and energy, specifically, which provides the benefits of sacrifice to the Gods and Goddesses. Whether the sacrifice consisted of people, or animals which were not eaten, or a feast of animal and plant foods and drinks, or even herbs, branches and flowers used in ceremonial practices and festive decorations, it would be the Ferah power within all of these that goes to nourish the Gods.
However, there is a radical difference between these practices and those of satanists and black magicians whose purpose is to raise power by causing agony and terror. Quite the contrary: if an animal sacrifice suffered and was terrified, this was a very bad omen. The most pure and powerful human sacrifices were also those who went willingly, for the wellbeing of the folk. I think it may be, that the Old Norse term for temple, the Fjarghus or Gods-house, was called that way not only because Fjarg was a term for the deities who give us life and soul-power, but also because of the sacrifices and gifts of Fjör / Ferah which were given to them there.
For modern-day Heathens, I think that the most meaningful and true Ferah-sacrifice is the life-long effort to shape our own Ferah into a bridge that links the world of Nature and Midgard with the worlds of the Holy Ones. We do this by attuning our Ferah souls to the healthy life-force that flows through Nature and Midgard life, and at the same time attuning to the minds, the powers, and activities of our deities. The ongoing effort to attune to these wholesome, life-giving powers and offer a conduit between them leads our Ferah soul into a state of true Heathen piety, strength, and generosity of spirit, as well as benefiting all the beings involved in these transactions.
This is a much more personal and powerful form of sacrifice than any ‘sacrifice’ of the life of other beings could possibly be, and should have far more powerful and meaningful results. I should say, though, that this description corresponds to the nature of my own Ferah’s perceptions and activities. It may be that the Ferah souls of others have their own path to Heathen piety, power, and sacrifice, different from mine.
The Ferah at Death
In the section “The Nature of the Ferah”, I talked about how Ferah appears both as an etheric substance that confers life and bodily sensations, and as a soul-being with thoughts, emotions and character. Let’s look at how these understandings of Ferah are expressed in the context of physical death.
Regarding the death of the beggar Lazarus, the Heliand author says that: “God’s angels received his Ferh and led him forth from there (Midgard), so they could place the poor Siole (Saiwalo soul) in Abraham’s breast (ll. 2353-4).” This is actually a very confused account: the Ferh is grammatically neuter, ‘him’ is masculine, and Siole is feminine. Grammatically, there are three different entities here: the Ferh is received by angels, ‘he, Lazarus’ is led forth from Midgard, and his Siole soul is placed in Abraham’s bosom, presumably in the Christian heaven. I interpret this confused passage as the result of early conversion efforts, when more narrow Christian soul-concepts and afterlife concepts were being translated with difficulty into broader, more prolific Germanic words and concepts rooted in Heathen understanding, and I analyze it in more depth in “What Happened to Heathen Saiwalo Soul?” https://heathensoullore.net/what-happened-to-heathen-saiwalo-soul/. Nevertheless, this passage does leave us with one item of information: that the Ferah was considered to exist at least long enough after death for angels to ‘receive’ it.
The description of Grendel’s death in Beowulf is interesting: “Grendel laid aside his Feorh, Heathen soul; then Hel received him (ll. 851-2).” It was necessary for the Feorh to be removed or laid aside, before Grendel’s afterlife could begin. This is somewhat reminiscent of the angels ‘receiving’ Lazarus’ Ferh. Later in the story, as Beowulf lies dying, his oath-man Wiglaf cries out that he cannot hold or keep Beowulf’s Feorh on earth (ll. 2855-6). This hints that the Feorh is not destroyed at death, but goes ‘elsewhere.’ At Beowulf’s death, his ‘feorh utgenge’, it went out, implying an entity or substance that may have continued after death, after it went out.
At the very end of Beowulf (ll. 3176-7), at the scene of his cremation, there is an intriguing phrase that can be translated in a couple of different ways. The poet says it is fitting to “freoge” Beowulf’s Ferhth when he must be led forth from his lich-hama, his body. The word ‘he’ could refer to the Ferhth (a masculine noun), or to the person Beowulf. The word freogan can mean ‘to think lovingly of, to honor,’ which is how this is translated in the English version: the assembled folk are honoring Beowulf at his cremation. But freogan more commonly means ‘to liberate, to set free,’ from the root freo meaning ‘free.’ We know that at least some Heathens considered cremation a blessing because it freed the spirit from the body immediately, rather than having to wait until the body decomposed. (See Ibn Fadlan’s account of the Viking funeral in Jones pp. 426-30; also quoted in many other books about the Vikings.) Thus the use of freogan in this phrase could mean that it was fitting to set Beowulf’s Ferhth free by the splendid cremation they were giving him.
There are several examples of this kind of wording in the Saxon Heliand: when discussing people trying to kill other people, the terms los, bilosian are used, meaning to loose, release, set free the Ferah. This parallel in the Heliand tempts me to assume that freoge is intended to mean “release, set free” Beowulf’s Ferhth in the cremation scene, as well. It also brings us back to the releasing of the Ferah-soul from trees at the time when the Gods transformed trees into humans. In both cases fire is the medium of release.
Here is another passage from the Heliand: “Christ gave Ferah to the fey, those who were ready to go forth, heroes on the Hel-way; the savior himself quickened them (brought them to life) after death” (ll. 4704-9). The word ‘fey’ is used in its Germanic sense: ‘ready to die, knowing death is near, doomed to die soon.’ This passage says that Christ gave Ferah-souls / substance to those who were dying and even to those who were already dead, the ‘heroes on the Hel-way’, and thus returned them to a state of life.
Völuspà vs. 41 (Poetic Edda) says that the Fjörvi of fey (doomed) men “fall,” as one of the signs preceding Ragnarök, though their fate after ‘falling’ remains a mystery. Note the important point that ‘Fjörvi’ occurs here in the plural form, implying something like individual souls, rather than just a ‘state of life’.
There is, however, not a great deal to work with here, in terms of gaining insights into earlier Heathen beliefs about the afterlife, if any, of the Ferah soul. Ferah is so strongly tied to life in Midgard, to physical life, to trees, Earth and sky-powers of Midgard, that I and other modern Heathens who have worked with Ferah believe its most likely afterlife fate is to return to the world of Nature in some form. Perhaps it is released by death to become a nature spirit, a landwight, a tree-spirit; perhaps simply to return to the ambient fields of life-energy circulating throughout Earth’s swirling mantle of energies.
Especially powerful Ferahs may become the kind of guardian spirits reflected in the Germanic (and Celtic) Matronae of Roman times: place-based spirits or genii loci of rivers, cities, regions, clan and tribal domains, rooted in a specific area. This is reflected in the name of a group of Matronae or Nymphs called the Alaferhwiae, the All-Ferh-Ones. Other Matronae names that may be related to Old High German fereh-eih meaning tree / oak include the Alaterviae, Berhuihenae, and the Dea (Goddesses) Vercana (Simek p. 5). These ideas link the Ferah soul with the Disir and Alfar ancestral spirits, which I believe are the Hugr souls of the ancestors, and with the spirits of the land. I think that one possibility, among others, for the Ferah soul after death is to accompany its partner Hugr soul, and perhaps one or more landwights as well, to form together a powerful ancestral or semi-divine land-warder spirit.
Alternatively, as I wrote above, we can make our own Ferah a deliberate gift to the Gods: growing our Ferah’s strength and beauty throughout our lives, and at the time our death comes to us, offering it to the Holy Ones with love and dedication.
Development and Psychology of Ferah
In my understanding, Ferah is the first soul that comes into being at conception, starting the processes of energy flow, cell proliferation and growth within the womb. At the right time, with the power of lightning, Ferah starts the heart beating and the nervous system operating. Just as the mother’s Lichama (her living body) contains the baby’s, so also the mother’s Ferah contains and nourishes the Ferah of the baby within it.
The Ferah is a very prominent soul during childhood. In a healthy, happy childhood it provides the lovely innocence and lively, adventurous spirit, the child’s love of animals, tree-climbing, cloud-watching, splashing in mud, collecting beetles, and many other aspects of nature. It also shows in a child’s natural trust in the goodness of the Holy Ones. This inner innocence, trust and delight should be preserved within our Ferah-soul life-long, and should be regained if we have lost it. It provides a very great deal of our simple joy in life, and emotional, physical and spiritual wellbeing.
While a well-developed Ferah confers wisdom and power, a Ferah which has gone out of balance can become oversensitive, hyper-reactive, anxiety-ridden, fearful, phobic. It feels responsible for sensing and responding to environmental and social cues, yet it has lost confidence in its ability to do this, so it anxiously over-reacts or under-reacts. Modern life gives Ferah a double-whammy: on the one hand, our frenetic, overstimulated pace of life and information overload completely overwhelm the Ferah’s response system. And on the other hand, most modern people’s Ferahs do not receive enough nourishment from the traditional sources: time spent in nature, living with natural rhythms and patterns of life, and quality time with our Gods and Goddesses. Even in ‘normal,’ reasonably happy lives today, the Ferah is very stressed.
In an unhappy, abused child’s or adult’s life, the Ferah suffers even more from fear and injury, both physical and emotional. Its instincts can become distorted, leading it to develop cruelty, brutality, slyness and other subconscious defenses against fear and helplessness. The natural courage and strength of our Mod soul is the best companion and healer for a damaged Ferah, though in a person with an unhappy life history the Mod may need healing as well, or it may need to be ‘dug out’ of a retreat into subconsciousness.
Ferah and Magic
Our Ferah soul can provide impetus for fertility magic of all kinds, as well as natural magic associated with plants, trees, animals, stones, storms, lightning and bio-electricity. Ferah magic can support healing, health and wellbeing. Ferah and our Mod-soul team together in practices that increase life-power for both mundane and magical purposes, such as qigong, yoga, and similar forms of energy work. Ferah strength and magic, if well developed, can protect against negative influences associated with death, illness and pain. Ferah knows, through its own experience, the power of transformation and therefore participates in all our processes of self-transformation throughout our life. Through its natural Heathen piety and connection with the deities, Ferah guides us in right interactions with our Gods and Goddesses, whether they involve magical, mundane or spiritual purposes.
Our Ferah, Hugr, and Mod Soul-selves make excellent magical partners because of their complementary and balancing natures. In our personal natures that we see developing in childhood, the lively sweetness and innocence of a healthy child’s Ferah counterbalance the other side of childhood nature: the one that is strong-willed, selfish, manipulative, and thrives on being spoiled. Until trained otherwise, our Mod and Hugr souls may have this latter nature, and can continue into adulthood this way. rHugr has a strong talent for many kinds of magic, and Mod is potentially an enormous power-source. Both are intellectually powerful souls and contain many strengths we need to survive and thrive in life; one certainly would not want to overly-constrain them either in childhood or adulthood. But both these souls may be tempted, without sufficient forethought, to work toward very selfish, unethical, or dangerous ends.
Ferah’s sensitivity to the laws and patterns of nature and of the Gods provides wise guidance in any magical endeavor, and can keep it from going dangerously astray. The will and courage of Hugr and Mod, on the other hand, can strengthen the possible over-sensitivity, hyper-reactiveness and underlying fearfulness that Ferah may have developed due to life circumstances. The physical health that Ferah and Mod provide is needed in order to carry the strong will, courage and drive of both Hugr and Mod souls. As magical partners, each of these souls can support and balance the others.
Summary
Ferah is the essence of life and vitality in Midgard, associated with trees, thunder, Thunder-God, Earth and Sky Deities, life-giving Deities. I think of it as the primal substance from which human Ferah-souls were shaped, drawn from powerful, living trees. Ferah is associated with the laws and patterns that govern natural life in Midgard, and govern the relations between humans, Nature, and the Deities. It is inclined toward a natural piety, and is a soul which supports the appeal and the practice of priesthood, formal or informal. Ferah-substance has been, through the ages, given as sacrifice to the Deities; here I have suggested new ways of performing such sacrifice. Ferah is lively and energizing during childhood, and ideally this Ferah-vitality and the childlike joy in life can be sustained throughout our lives. Significant terms are firihi: ‘the folk, those who share Ferah together’; feorhcynn: ‘the kindred of the living’; and feraht: ‘devoutly wise, having a strongly developed Ferah’.
In Closing….
Like trees, people are nourished and sustained by Gods of earth and sky. Like trees, we are sometimes struck by lightning / God-power, and if we do not burn to death, then we burn with life as conduits of God-power into the world. Great Yggdrasil is the backbone of the multiverse; the Irminsul pillar-tree unites earth and sky; Idunna sustains the Gods from her magical apple tree. Donar-oaks and other mighty Midgard trees sheltered assemblies and ceremonies of the folk through time immemorial. Ancient Greeks traveled many miles to hear Zeus Thunder-God whispering his oracles through the Oak of Dodona. Trees played the same central role in the worship and communal practices of Celts, Slavs, and Balts as they did with the Germans. The religions of the pagan Indo-Europeans, past and present, would not be what they are without the holy presence of the trees.
Sunlight slanting through the solemn, silent forest shows us that even the greatest cathedrals with their stained-glass windows and carven columns are only pale reflections of the oldest temple of all. Beyond the logic of science and genetics, which are true in their own way, the human spirit knows its kinship with the trees.
For more discussion of Ferah’s role as a life-soul, see the section on “The Ferah-Saiwalo Dynamic” in my article “What Happened to Heathen Saiwalo-Soul?”
Bookhoard
(Note: All quotations are translated by myself from original language texts.)
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This article was originally published in Idunna: A Journal of Northern Tradition, #68, Summer 2006. Revised May 2021.