Winifred Hodge Rose
Ond gave Odin, Odhr gave Hoenir….(Voluspa vs. 18, in the Poetic Edda)
The first gave ond and life, the second consciousness and movement….(Gylfaginning in the Prose Edda)
Ullr’s grace, and that of all the Gods,
To him who first takes away the flame;
The worlds will open to Asa-son,
When he heaves up the kettle.
(Grimnismal vs. 43 in the Poetic Edda, vs. 42 in translation)
In my previous article about the Ghost (Ond, Ahma, Ghost and Breath: Basic Meanings), I began the attempt to put the complexities of our Ahma and Ghost into some sort of shape that would be useful for modern Heathens. In case I have not already made this clear, I will note again the impossible task of describing a concept of the ghost or spirit (or any of the other souls) that is consistent across time and place for all Germanic Heathen peoples. My purpose in writing all of these articles is to contribute to a systematic modern Heathen theory and practice of all activities involving our souls, using historical evidence as source material. As all modern Heathen loremasters have experienced, developing a modern body of soul lore means imposing some consistency and clarity even where it did not always exist in the historic record. In all these articles I try, however, to show why and how I draw the conclusions that I do, so that you, the reader, can test and judge them for yourself.
Origin and Afterlife of Ghost and Ahma
Whether or not our Germanic forebears believed in an abstract, transcendent, pure consciousness-being-soul, a question which is difficult to answer based on the little evidence we have of their beliefs, this is a belief which is held by many people today, including many Heathens, I think. It is part of the modern landscape of belief. This transcendent, eternal, abstract consciousness, this Spirit in its ultimate sense, I am calling Ahma, the Gothic term for “spirit.” It corresponds closely to the Hindu Atman, which is very ancient in origin and could well reflect, in part, an ancient Indo-European understanding of Spirit. Certainly, the words Ahma and Atman are closely related, as I discussed in my previous article.
What is the relationship between our Ahma-Spirit and our Ghost? Are they one and the same, or different from each other? I believe they parallel the nature of our Gods and Goddesses, in the following way. Ginnungagap, the Gap of Magical Potential, contains within it the proto-energy-matter that has not been actualized or materialized in any way. We can call this the Godhead or the Source, something that is beyond any attempt to characterize or describe. As this wells up and overflows from Ginnungagap, it gradually takes on the characteristics of energy and matter as we know them.
Thus are formed the Gods and Goddesses, the Worlds and the elements of matter, of souls and bodies. The Gods and Goddesses have personal characteristics, they are beings who can be described and known to some extent by us, and to whom we can relate in a personal way. Yet they are also shapes – Hamas or soul-skins – of the Godhead / Source / Ginnungagap-outflow. Our Ahma-soul corresponds to this primal source, with its lack of personal characteristics and its limitless nature. Our Ghost, on the other hand, corresponds to our Gods and Goddesses as personal, individualized entities. Our Ghost relates to our Ahma in the same way that the Holy Ones relate to the Source within Ginnungagap. They are one in substance, but have different characteristics; or rather, the Ghosts and Gods have characteristics, while the Ahma and Ginnungagap cannot be defined by characteristics.
We can think of Ahma as the steam or mist rising up out of Ginnungagap, based on the common Indo-European word-roots for spirit, breath, wind, steam (Greek atmos). This is the same mist that rises to fill Niflheim / Mist-Home and coalesces into Hvergelmir, the Roaring Cauldron of World-Energy. The Gods shape or distill our Ghost out of this spirit-steam and blow it into us at the moment we take our first breath. Because our Ghost-soul is shaped from Ahma / Source, we can call it a shape-soul and understand it as the hama or shape of our Ahma-soul. But the Ghost is a being in its own right, not simply a shape of something else, just as the Holy Ones are beings in their own right and not just sacks of Ginnung-power. Although Ghost comes from the spirit-steam hovering over Ginnungagap, once it is shaped into the Ghost it has a different life and fate, with natural ties to the Gods and Goddesses if one chooses to pursue and honor them. Our Ahma, on the other hand, remains essentially connected to the Ahma hovering over Ginnungagap. I am thus considering Ahma and Ghost to be two distinct souls in the tally of Full-Souls that I am exploring in this series of articles.
One can, by certain kinds of spiritual practices, reunite one’s Ghost with the Ahma spirit-steam of Ginnungagap. This path bypasses our connection with the Gods-as-personal-beings, breaks open the soul-skin of our Ghost, and returns our personal portion of Ahma to the primal spirit-steam. This path is described in other religions and spiritual practices as Nirvana, union with the Godhead, disembodiment into Pure Bliss, and other efforts to describe the indescribable. Certain religions, Eastern in particular, hold this as the aim of all their spiritual efforts and development: to burst open the Ghost’s skin and release the impersonal Ahma to return to the Source.
My impression of Heathen belief, past and present, is that most Heathens prefer to keep their Ghost whole and (if all goes well) dwell as a personal Ghost-being with the Holy Ones in the afterlife. The connection between Ghost and Ahma still remains, both in life and after death (I will describe this below), but so does the distinction between them. However, nothing prevents Heathens from choosing to follow the kinds of spiritual disciplines that break down the Ghost and return Ahma to the primal source in Ginnungagap.
This dissolution of the Ghost into pure Ahma may also be a path for those who feel no attachment to any Deities during their lifetime, and thus may feel no benefit to staying in a shape, the Ghost, which can interact easily with personalized Gods and Goddesses. Among other things, Ghost forms the bridge between abstract, impersonal Ahma, on the one side, and personal Gods, Goddesses, humans and other personal beings on the other. An individual can choose whether this bridge, the Ghost-soul, is meaningful to retain after death, or whether to dissolve personal Ghost into impersonal Ahma-spirit.
Athom and Ghost
My previous article about the Ghost showed how closely Ghost / Spirit and breath are tied together. Our Ghost consists of Ahma-Spirit encapsulated in a soul-skin, a hama. The Ghost is thus like a pod (but a pod with personality!) existing within a wider field of Ahma. Ghost pulsates within this Ahma-field, drawing Ahma, the steam from Ginnungagap, into and out of its skin in a nourishing bath of spirit-power: this is what keeps it strong and living, and sustains the vital ties between our Ahma-soul and its hama, our Ghost-soul. When our body, our Lich, breathes, it is mirroring the pulsations of our Ghost. In other words, our Lich breathes because, and only because, our Ghost is pulsating within the field of Ahma. As our Ghost expands and contracts, so do our physical lungs, our andribb or chest where our ribs enclose our ond.
This understanding of the relationship between Ghost, Ahma, and Athom or breath makes clear many spiritual and physical phenomena. Effective meditation requires mindful breathing, which involves tuning our physical breath pattern to the pulsations of our Ghost, thus opening a way for our awareness to touch Ahma-Spirit in a transcendent experience. People who are in a very deep meditation or trance, or who are in a coma or unconscious, experience a loosening of the Ghost from the Lich. When the Lich is not fully connected with the Ghost breathing becomes very slow, and the conscious awareness that is tied to the Ghost is located elsewhere in an out-of-body experience.
In a Lich which is slowly dying, the Ghost is simply drawing more and more distant from the Lich, taking with it both breath and consciousness. When the final breath flows out, the Lich has “given up the Ghost,” just as we take in the Ghost during our first breath of life after birth. Heathen mothers and other Heathens who attend a childbirth should be fully aware of the wondrousness of this moment: not only is a child physically born, but the Gods and Goddesses are present, most especially Odin as our Ghost-Giver, and many good Ghosts are gathered round to attend and honor the Ghost-Giving.
Regulating the breath is a time-honored way of regulating consciousness or awareness, aiming toward various kinds of experiences ranging from simple meditation to ecstatic visionary journeys and paranormal activities. Some traditions emphasize calming and slowing the breath to achieve these experiences; the Eastern traditions such as Zen Buddhism and some forms of Yoga are examples. Breath regulation is often achieved by whatever form of galdoring is customary in that tradition, such as the chanting of Tibetan monks and the plainsong used in Christian monasteries. One example is the full, chanted Eastern Orthodox Christian liturgy for the Holy Week preceding Easter, which lasts for eighteen hours a day. One can imagine the powerful effects this can have on the Ghosts of those who chant and those who listen mindfully. And of course, in our tradition there are many creative possibilities for using rune-galdor to energize our Ghosts.
Slowing or regulating the Athom is only one way of activating our Ghost, however; the opposite action of speeding and exciting the breath is also effective. Our Ghost can be excited inadvertently, with no spiritual intention or control; the results are often negative in these cases. Examples are hysteria, panic, shock, injury or pain. Germanic words for these states show the Ghost-connection: Anglo-Saxon and Modern English aghast; Gothic uz-gheizan; and others that I listed in my previous article. Our Ghost is temporarily shocked loose from our Lich. Depending on the severity of the shock and the degree of loosening, our reactions range from panicky breathing and gasping (when we gasp, we are instinctively trying to draw our Ghost back into our body, before we faint) to fainting or coma.
In cultures around the world people are often concerned about sneezing and yawning, and we are taught to cover our mouths when we do this. Modern folk consider this to be due simply to courtesy and hygiene, but the practice is deeper and older than such considerations. It is meant to prevent the inadvertent breathing out of the Ghost when yawning or sneezing, as well as avoid breathing in any ghosts that are floating around “out there.” Note that the Greek word for spirit is ‘pneuma,’ which comes from PIE *pneu, to snort or sneeze. (This is really rather an amusing ‘life history’ for this word which later, under the development of Greek philosophers and Christian theologians became the word for the transcendent human spirit!) Presumably, the ancient Greeks would not have called ‘spirit’ and ‘snort, sneeze’ with the same word unless they believed that the spirit could be inadvertently set loose from the body by explosive breath.
If you look at photographs or drawings of native people present at a shamanic healing ritual or an exorcism, you may notice that some cover their mouths or turn away to avoid breathing in the expelled ghost or evil spirit. I have seen some pictures where mothers in these circumstances are covering their babies’ mouths to keep them safe, while themselves turning their faces to the side so as to be out of direct line with the escaping ghost.
Some cultures also cover their mouths when laughing or weeping, for the same reason, especially because these excited states arouse one’s own and others’ Ghosts. Recall, from my previous article, that the word and concept of “ghost” relates directly to a “state of excitement or arousal.” I must point out here that the Ghost is not closely involved in our everyday emotions, which are more the domain of other souls. Ghost does not so much feel or cause emotions; rather, Ghost is activated and energized by strong, sudden emotions or physical states similar to the way that water molecules are energized into steam when heated. Unusual breathing, like sneezing, laughing, sobbing, singing, shouting, gasping, screaming, and so forth, is likely to excite or alert one’s own and other people’s Ghosts, as well as any non-human ghosts / spirits hanging around. It is these kinds of “excited breathing” situations, reactions to sudden, strong emotions or physical states, that can lead to ghostly entrances and exits on the breath.
Shamans and other spiritual technicians use this tie between Ghost and breath, and the excitability of the Ghost, both to elevate their own Ghost to paranormal levels of activity and sometimes to manipulate the Ghosts of other people to bring about healing or cursing. I would say that shamanic healing and bewitchment more often involve other souls of the patient / victim than that person’s own Ghost, but sometimes Ghost-work is needed in the process. And regardless of which soul of the patient is being healed, any shamanic work that involves excitation of the shaman’s breath, heating of the body through dancing, singing, sweating, and so forth, and especially loss of consciousness, likewise involves the Ghost of the shaman. (Others of the Shaman’s souls, such as Hugi and Mod, are generally involved, and perhaps associated spirits such as the Hamingja, Fylgja and Gandr.)
I’ll repeat here the verse I quoted from Grimnismal at the beginning of the article, which may have several layers of occult meaning which relate to the subject of this article:
Ullr’s grace (hylli), and that of all the Gods, to him who first takes away the fire. The worlds will open to Asa-son, when he heaves up the kettle. (Grimnismal vs. 43 in the Poetic Edda; vs. 42 in translation.)
On the surface, the verse applies to Odin’s situation of being tortured by being placed between two fires in Geirrod’s hall. It also implies a form of spiritual initiation or training, since that is Odin’s purpose in speaking the poem: to instruct young Agnar about the mysteries of the Gods and prepare him for sacral kingship. (See the prose introduction in the translation of Grimnismal.)
This initiation is not simply one of endurance and courage, however. “Steaming” a person between two fires is an image of distillation, of refining and distilling a substance down to its essence. I mentioned in my previous article that the terms “spirit” and “alcoholic spirits” (German “Geist” is used for both meanings) are not just coincidentally related. Our Ahma rises like steam from Ginnungagap and is distilled by the Gods into our personal essence, our Ghost. Once our Ghost has been refined by the ordeals of life under the tutelage of the Holy Ones, we become a son or daughter of the Aesir and receive the grace (heil, hylli) of Ullr and all the Gods. When the “kettle” is lifted off the fire, our bodies are removed from the boiling fire of life, the steam of our Ghost rises, and the Worlds lie open before us. This is what I see as the “life / afterlife” meaning of the verse. It can also be seen as a reference to seidhr or shamanic practice. Being heated by the fire can refer to the body-heating exercises often used in shamanism, such as violent exercise and / or steam-bathing. The kettle may contain herbal or alcoholic steam that has psychogenic effects, leading to a trance state where the Ghost can come forth and act. (See Larrington’s note 58 on page 271.)
In summary, our Ghost can extend itself outside the body, as long as there is still an Athom-tie between it and the body. Athom-work is the way to bring this about, and it can be achieved by two opposite techniques. The breath and body can be quieted (along with the mind and the other souls), allowing the Ghost to release itself from mundane ties and enter otherworldly realms. This is the approach of mystics and other spiritual seekers, as well as some forms of artistic creativity such as composing music. Conversely, the breath and body can be brought to an extreme state of excitation, thereby arousing the Ghost to paranormal action: this is the path that most shamans take, as well as berserkers and some kinds of artistic performers. When the Ghost is fully extended, while still tethered by Athom, the practitioner is in a very deep state of trance or even unconscious. Extreme examples are Yogis who can enter a state of suspended animation, or legendary shamans of different cultures who could survive for long periods underwater or who fall deeply unconscious while in the shamanic state.
Wode
Once we move into the realms of Ghost-excitation, we are dealing with the phenomenon of Wode (Anglo-Saxon) or Odhr (Old Norse). In the Old Norse sagas, odhr is generally presented in the form of battle-madness, as shown in the berserker and other warriors in an exalted state of consciousness. In Old Norse poetic literature odhr appears more often in the context of great inspiration toward poetry or wisdom. An odhar-smith referred to a poet. Odhroerir meaning “odhr-stirrer” or wode-stirrer, is either the name of one of the cauldrons from which Odin drank to gain poetic power, or the name of the mead of inspiration itself which he drank and carried off (Havamal vs. 107, 140; Simek p. 250). It is also the source of his gift of poetic wode to humans, as is told in Skaldskarpamal of the Prose Edda (p. 62-3).
The Anglo-Saxon language split the concept of wode into two words, spelled almost the same. One word is wod, pronounced as “wode.” The other word is wodh, with a voiced “th” rather than the “d” at the end, rhyming with “loathe.” Wode meant madness, fury, raging, paroxysms. It was often used to describe illnesses, poisoning, or spirit-possession of both humans and animals that involved fits and frenzy, such as rabies, epilepsy, mania, hallucinations, and the like. Anglo-Saxon had the same expression as odhroerir: mid wodnysse astyrod, meaning ‘stirred by wode’. But instead of the sacred stirring of poetic, prophetic frenzy it applied to a person afflicted with madness. The connection between wode and Ghost is strengthened when we see the A-S word astyrod, meaning ‘stirred up, excited,’ applied both to wode and to ghost in various writings.
Wodh, on the other hand, applied to voice, song, poetry and eloquence. A Wodhbora or wodh-bearer was an orator, singer, poet or prophet. Clearly we have here a split between what the Anglo-Saxon Christians would have seen as the “bad” wode versus the “good” wodh. Woden was specifically associated, by them, with the “bad” wode, while having nothing to do with the “good” wodh. Since the other Germanic languages did not split the wode-concept, and included all of the meanings in one word, I suppose that the Anglo-Saxon split must have been a late one, motivated by a changed, Christian world-view. They were happy to believe that Woden brought the curse of madness, but could not credit him with prophecy and eloquence.
It is useful to look at the root and cognates of wod. The Proto-Indo-European root is *uehatis meaning “god-inspired.” Related words are the Welsh gwawd = poem, Gaulish ouateis = ovate, one of the ranks of the druids, Latin vates = seer, prophet, and Old Indic api-vat = to inspire. (Mallory p. 493.) Mallory points out that this word-root is widespread in the Indo-European languages, and notes Odin’s role as inspirer of both battle rage and poetic inspiration. He also comments that the Gothic word wods, which is used to mean ‘demon-possessed’ in the Gothic translation of the Christian Bible, shows a distinct change of perspective resulting from Christianization. We see the same in Anglo-Saxon: a wode person is supposedly demon-possessed rather than god-possessed as was earlier understood.
At the beginning, I quoted the Voluspa poem of the Poetic Edda, telling us that when Odin, Hoenir and Lodhurr found the trees, Odin granted them ond while Hoenir gave odhr. In my second quotation above, from Snorri Sturlusson’s Gylfaginning in the prose Edda, Snorri retells this event but says that while the first of Bor’s sons (Odin and his brothers) gave “ond and life,” the second gave “vit and movement.” Vit, related to wit, means consciousness, sense, intelligence. This is a very different thing from odhr as it is used elsewhere in Old Norse lore, and also different from any meaning of wode-cognates in every other Germanic language and other Indo-European languages. Although some modern Old Norse dictionaries give odhr the meaning of “consciousness,” this interpretation seems to me to be based on Snorri’s retelling of the story and his substitution of vit for odhr in his version.
The prominent Germanic scholar Jan de Vries, in his etymological ON dictionary, does not give the meaning of “consciousness” to odhr, and in the modern Icelandic dictionary odhur means “furious, mad,” not vit and consciousness. The same is true for the Faroese dictionary, which has many compound words with ‘odhar’, all relating to fury and wildness. It includes the interesting word “odhar-hugur”, which means ‘violent or intense passion.’ See also the reference I made to Mallory, above, with Indo-European meanings of wod-words relating to god-possession, divine madness and poetic inspiration. Using the concordance to Eddic Poetry, I don’t find any instances of ‘odhr’ in the Eddas that could indicate ‘wit’, unless one interprets the gift of Hoenir in this way.
Diana Paxson, in her book Odin: Ecstasy, Runes & Norse Magic, quotes the Cleasby and Vigfusson Old Norse dictionary, saying that the noun Odhr is different from the adjective Odhr: the adjective means wild and furious, as mentioned above, while the noun means ‘mind, wit, soul, sense.’ They compare it to Icelandic ‘aedhi’, meaning sense, wit, manner. I don’t mean to set myself up against their dictionary expertise, yet I still have to wonder how solid this interpretation is, at least from a spiritual-practice standpoint. Cleasby and Vigfusson translate the name of the mead / cauldron Odhroerir as ‘inspirer of wisdom’, whereas every other translation I’ve seen for this name is along the lines of ‘ecstasy-stirrer,’ which is a more characteristic name for a sacred alcoholic drink than calling it a wisdom-inspirer, I would think. It seems to me that they are sticking to this idea of Odhr as mind and wit, even in connection with intoxicating beverages, more likely to inspire ecstasy than wisdom! Though considering that this mead was brewed from the blood of the wise Kvasir, perhaps this does make sense.
Looking at the etymology of this word Odhr, its common usage in the lore, and the interpretation of some scholars, we reach one conclusion that it means something like ‘divine ecstasy, inspired madness’. Looking at some other scholars and Snorri’s interpretation of the divine gifts, we reach a different conclusion, that Odhr can mean ‘mind, wit, soul, sense’. In order to proceed with this study of the Ghost and Wode, we need to choose an interpretation to go forward with! To me, the preponderance of the evidence falls on the side of considering Odhr / Wode to mean ‘divine ecstasy / inspiration / madness.’ This is the interpretation I choose to follow here.
Based on the linguistic evidence and discussion that I present in my article “Ond, Ahma, Ghost and Breath: Basic Meanings,” I conclude that the sacred gifts of consciousness, intellect, and Spirit are all included with Odin’s gift of Ond, of Breath which carries Spirit with it. If that is the case, then Hoenir giving ‘mind, spirit, sense’ would be rather superfluous. This leaves room for the other interpretation: that the gift of Odhr is really the treasured ability to reach divine ecstasy and inspiration, a holy gift from the Gods to humankind.
So, this is my understanding of these two gifts. ‘Ond’ is the gift of our Ghost, our personal spirit which enwraps pure Spirit, Ahma, within its shaping hama. Ond / Ghost includes our creative and intellectual abilities along with our spirit, and includes our breath, both mundane and divine Breath of Life. ‘Odhr’ is the gift of divine inspiration and ecstasy: a capability that is granted by the Holy Ones to our human spirit / Ghost / Ond.
I see Odhr as a bridge between humans and Deities, a channel through which divine power can flow into humans and into Midgard, bringing inspiration and creativity into our own world through the Gods’ gifts. Wode or Odhr flows through our Ghost-soul, in my understanding, and triggers its creative and prophetic abilities to their highest level. Other abilities may be triggered by Wode as well, especially the berserker-ecstasy that gives warriors great power, fearlessness, and delays the physical effects of wounds and injuries until the warrior has exited the trance.
Other people besides warriors can sometimes enter the same kind of ecstatic, superpowerful state, especially during dire emergencies when someone needs to be rescued, or needs to rescue themselves, from fatally dangerous circumstances. Under these circumstances, people can accomplish amazing deeds, not normally possible for them, thanks to the raging torrent of Wode that powers through their Ghost and breath, and into their body to achieve such deeds.
Because wode is the divine madness that is linked to an experience of the Gods and the power of holiness, I believe that it is Odin’s brother Ve or Wihaz, whose name means “sacred,” who gives us the gift of odhr / wode. It seems odd to all of us at first glance, I think, that Odhinn / Woden is not the giver of wode, yet it does make sense that he gives us ond / ghost / spirit. He is associated with wind and storm, and spirit rides the wind and rides the breath within us. He is a God of consciousness, awareness, wisdom, all associated with ond. Odin’s brother Ve, so closely related to him, adds his own unique element to the mix: the capacity to transcend the Lich and all the ties of Midgard, and to enter the sacred realms of the Gods on a tide of wode. Who knows – perhaps long ago, before the tales we know of, it was Ve who gave us our sacred Ghost, and Odin / Woden who gave us wode. These days, many Heathens regard Odin and his brothers as sort of a three-in-one proposition, so the distinction is perhaps not vital, anyway. It is something I like to pursue in my own meditations, however!
When our Ghost is in a full-blown state of Wode, our normal faculties of judgement, rationality, self-control and so forth are not operational. We are consumed by our inspiration or frenzy, and “normal” is the last word one would use to describe us! We may well speak great wisdom, poetry, and prophecy, but the wisdom we grasp and communicate in this state of being comes from the Otherworlds, not from the mundane here and now. We are “other,” “elsewhere,” and outside of “this-time.” Wode takes us out of ourselves into a non-ordinary realm of consciousness and action.
This can be a good or a bad thing. Like many of the born berserkers (as opposed to fighters who occasionally were overcome by wode in the heat of battle) who are described in the Icelandic sagas, a removal of our awareness to a non-ordinary state can result in our abandoning ordinary rules of conduct. A person with a berserker personality may be very exploitative and predatory toward others, for example, and show no restraint, compassion, or respect for customary law and behavior. Their wode carries them beyond these boundaries. Wode which expresses itself in creative, intellectual, or mystical passion generally does not lead to direct mistreatment of other people, but often causes the wode-filled person to neglect and be uncaring about everyday obligations such as caring for one’s family.
Uncontrolled wode, unbalanced by the strengths of our other souls and the considerations of Midgard life, can lead to ethical carelessness, the wrecking of relationships, jobs, finances and other everyday necessities, serious illness and outright madness. Yet, controlling wode is a real challenge for a person whose Ghost is prone to wodeness. By its nature, the wode-filled Ghost is basically out of control. In traditional cultures there are experienced elders who can teach the wode-prone person – whether warrior, seer, artist, or whatever – to manage their condition. In our culture we have neither the proper respect and value for the benefits of wode, nor the social traditions and structures that help us manage it. Instead, we medicate it away, and / or punish or marginalize those who give way to wode. As a result, most of us learn to suppress and deny that facility in ourselves. This tactic helps us lead a “normal” life but closes us out from transformative, otherworldly experiences that would inspire all the powers of our Ghost, that could benefit both ourselves and others.
This whole subject area is large and deep, far beyond something that can be covered in a short article, and certainly I am not qualified to address all aspects of it. Genuine shamans, mystics, martial artists, artistic or intellectual geniuses, and others whose Ghosts are open to wode go through rigorous, years-long training and discipline. The training process is a necessity not only in order to develop their art, but to remain somewhat balanced and in control of one’s life in spite of the demands of wode. This often involves living an unusual lifestyle, perhaps somewhat withdrawn from “the world,” and perhaps without many of the social and material amenities of ordinary life. In some cases, one must struggle with the ill-health that can be part of a wode-filled life.
The “shaman’s illness” is often considered a necessary indicator of a real shaman’s calling, and it is not always cured by becoming a shaman. Neurological malfunctions such as dizziness, fainting, fits and seizures often accompany a powerfully wode-filled Ghost. In my article “Ond, Ahma, Ghost and Breath” I mentioned the Proto-Indo-European word *dhuesmi which developed, in different Indo-European languages, into words expressing various facets of shamanic and berserker experiences. The original word may have meant not only “to breathe,” but also “to be full of wild spirits.” It led to words meaning: dizzy, confused, foolish, ghost, rage, spirit, and wild animal. (Mallory & Adams p. 82.)
These words encompass not only the experience of entering into and enacting a shamanic or berserker trance, but also entering into a true state of madness. Our English word “giddy” is also relevant here: it comes from the Anglo-Saxon gydig meaning “possessed by a spirit, insane.” The word gydig comes directly from the word “god,” or “goddess” (gyden), showing the original sacred Heathen connotations of this state, as someone whose Ghost is being stirred by a Goddess, God, or spirit. Experiences of our Ghost are reflected in our Lich, often as symptoms that today are regarded as illnesses. The discipline and focus required to live a wode-filled life, while still functioning in Midgard and maintaining health and sanity, may shape a life that is quite different from the ordinary, sometimes painfully so.
Wode is not always an all-or-nothing affair, however. It can come “out of nowhere” and overwhelm a person, but it can also, to some extent, be invited and nurtured in a controlled and measured way, though there is always a risk involved. These measured invitations to wode should form part of the spiritual-mental practice of a Heathen life. We must recognize that an important aspect of this practice is to maintain healthy ties with other people and with Midgard life, and in particular to cultivate wise Heathen friendships where we can help each other with reality checks and thus maintain some control over how wode expresses itself in our lives.
The big question for us is: does wode ride our Ghost, or does our Ghost ride the wode? The former can lead to Ghost-madness both during and after life. The latter can lead to disciplined, inspired spiritual practice. Essential to this process is the training of Athom which energizes our Ghost, and controls the degree of wode and its mode of expression. A strong, disciplined, inspired Ghost is one who is a trained “Ghost Rider,” one who can ride both Athom and wode to other Worlds, achieving deeds and experiences there that reflect into Midgard in many ways.
Athom is not simply breath and breathing, as I have described above: it is also our link to our transcendent Ahma-spirit and its energy-field. Adams (Mallory & Adams p.82) notes a very interesting suggestion that has been made regarding the meanings of *dhuesmi and *haenhmi (another PIE breath-word that is the root of Gothic anan and ahma, Latin anima, and other Germanic and non-Germanic words meaning breath and spirit – see my article “Ond, Ahma, Ghost and Breath”). He suggests that *dhuesmi refers to breathing in, inhaling, which under some circumstances can mean breathing in wild spirits. *Haenhmi, on the other hand, refers to breathing out, exhaling, and can sometimes involve releasing or sending out our Ghost. With a good deal of care, this understanding could provide some guidance for Heathen ghostly practice.
Before leaving the subject of wode, I should mention that it is not only Gods-sent wode that can excite our own Ghosts. Wode can also be passed between human Ghosts, both living and after life, and between other spirits and humans. Any person who is inspiring enough, who has strong enough charisma, can pass wode from himself / herself on to other people. This can be a beneficial or a dangerous phenomenon. Hitler is an example of the latter: he worked himself up into a wode-filled frenzy during his public speeches, and assisted by stunning effects of music, lighting, parades, etc, he incited enormous wode-frenzy in most people who attended his performances. Other public performers can cause wode in different forms to rise, such as rock stars and athletic champions, great artistic performers, as well as great teachers, political and spiritual leaders. Alfar and disir may be able to infuse us with inspired wode: witness tales from Old Norse lore that tell of sleeping on a grave mound or making an offering on a grave mound and gaining poetic inspiration or wisdom. Various non-human wights can also stimulate our Ghosts to wode, usually with ill results unless we are very firmly in control of the process.
The Otherworldly Nature of the Ghost
In the ancient Germanic languages, the ghost-words and aand-words applied not only to human spirits but to various kinds of non-human beings and wights, as well. Although in modern English we think of a ghost as being quite immaterial and ethereal, Anglo-Saxon usage shows us that gast was frequently applied to otherworldly entities which have a very physical presence. A good example is the monster Grendel in the Beowulf epic. Grendel is very frequently referred to as a gast or ghost (our word “ghastly” comes from gast). Yet there is no question that Grendel has a physical presence: he not only tears apart people and eats them, but he himself is killed by Beowulf ripping his arm off, causing him to bleed to death. The dragon which kills Beowulf is also called a gast.
Old Germanic language usage, as well as folklore, lumps in with “ghosts” and “aande” many other kinds of otherworldly beings, beings which are physical in their own worlds, such as dwarves, elves, dragons, wights of many kinds, but whose physicality in our world is less than or other than our own. For example, they can appear and disappear, slip through portals into other worlds that we usually cannot, have more power or less power than we do over events in the physical world, and so forth. The Grendel monster, in spite of physically bleeding to death as a human would, lived deep under an otherworldly lake within a fen or marsh, as a human could not. Here we can see an example of a ghost’s combination of physical and otherworldly / non-physical characteristics.
I want to insert an anecdote about the Grendel episode in the Beowulf saga because it relates to ghosts and is a pet peeve of mine. The Beowulf poet tells us that the dwellers in Heorot, tormented for years by Grendel’s ravages, prayed to their Gods to save them. The poet here is speaking as a Christian, and inserts a little sermon about Heathen ignorance, referring to the God to whom they are directing their prayers (presumably Woden) as the gast-bona. All translators I’ve come across, including the Old English dictionary, give this word in English as “soul-slayer.” This is both inaccurate and ridiculous! Who would ever pray to a deity who slays souls – how would you know your own soul would be safe? It is very clear from the context – the people are being bedeviled by a gast/ghost, as Grendel is constantly described – that the folk are beseeching the ghost-bane, the godly ghost-slayer, to save them from the ghost. What they are asking for is a ghost-buster, not a soul-slayer! If a soul-slayer had been meant, then the word would have been sawol-bona, not gast-bona. They are not the same thing at all.
This is what happens with such sloppy soul-terminology as we are stuck with in modern English, and this is what I am trying to remedy through further development of terms in these essays. To wrap up the tale here: the Christian Beowulf-poet primly points out that their Heathen Gods fail to save the folk from the Grendel-gast. But Beowulf, having previously slain a strange and powerful water-wight in his early youth, comes to slay Grendel for them. Beowulf is of mysterious, divinely inspired descent, his life shaped by a strange wyrd. Any Heathen would realize that Beowulf is, indeed, the Gods’ answer to the prayer, and that the odd circumstances of his life were brought about by the Gods to prepare him for that role.
What lies in common between the idea of an immaterial human ghost, versus a non-human wight which might be quite physical? To us, they don’t seem very similar. The common factor between them is that all – both human Ghosts and non-human wights – are native to worlds other than Midgard. They appear in Midgard, attached to our Lich in the case of humans, and in various non-ordinary contexts in the case of wights, but this is not their home-base and there is always something otherworldly about them. All are eldritch and uncanny, none are completely bound by the physical laws of Midgard, all feel pulled Elsewhere even when they are located in Midgard.
Our elder kin even recognized that Gods appear as ghosts to us. The old Germanic Christians wrote often about “God’s ghost,” and I get the impression that they did not necessarily mean the third person of the Christian Trinity, the Holy Ghost. They recognized the Holy Ghost as an independent entity, mysterious and distant from the world, but also believed (this is my impression) that the Christian God had his own personal ghost which visited people. I think this early Christian perception was influenced by a prior Heathen understanding that Gods appear as their own Ghosts to people. Gods have Ghosts as part of their makeup, just as we do. Early Germanic Christians also referred to the Christian Father-God’s Hugi, Mod, and other souls or soul-parts, as well as those of Jesus. This is only logical: Gods cannot be less than we are, and we are supplied with a richness of souls and soul-parts. How could the Gods not have them, too?
I think this idea reflects a very Heathen perception of the physical nature of Gods. An interesting example of this thought process occurs in the Heliand, regarding the conception of Jesus in Mary’s womb. The familiar tale we are told in the Gospel of Luke is that at the Annunciation, the angel Gabriel appeared to Mary and told her: “The Holy Spirit will come upon you, the power of the Most High will overshadow you.” (Phillips p. 109.) This is how Jesus’ conception will occur, through the power of the Holy Ghost, caused by the Holy Ghost. However, in the Heliand, remarkably, “the Helago Gest became the child in her womb” (ll. 291-2). From the perspective of Heathen soul lore, the Holy Ghost here has taken on a Hama, a soul-skin, in the form of a physical human body. (See The Shape of Being Human: The Hama Soul, for more about the Hama.)
Not to range too far astray here, but I’ll follow this thought a little further, and guess at something about the old Heathen-based understanding of Pentecost, when the Christian Holy Ghost descended on gathered crowds of the faithful and inspired them. This happened after Jesus had departed Midgard and ascended to heaven, fifty days after his resurrection. I’m guessing that a Heathen-based understanding of this event required that Jesus no longer be present in his physical body. As long as the Holy Ghost was enwrapped in its Hama, Jesus’ body, the Holy Ghost could not perform as a ghost, a disembodied being, by inspiring multitudes of people at once. Only after Jesus’ ascension to heaven would the Holy Ghost, in this conceptualization, be free to act, unfettered by the flesh. (Unfortunately, the final pages of the Heliand, which would presumably have described the Pentecost, are missing, so we lose any clues there might have been in that part of the text.)
This whole understanding, of Jesus in the flesh being the embodied Holy Ghost, is not in accordance with Christian doctrine, which regards the Holy Ghost as a distinct third person in the Christian trinity, not as Jesus’ own Ghost or Spirit. The Heliand poet would not have gotten the idea of the Holy Ghost becoming the child Jesus in the womb from his Christian sources. In the Tatian Diatessaron, the primary source for the Heliand, the description of Jesus’ conception is simply that Mary “was found with child by the Holy Spirit” prior to her marriage to Joseph. (Section II 2:2.) http://www.earlychristianwritings.com/text/diatessaron.html I think we see here another clue to how Heathens understood the nature of the Ghost, buried beneath the Christian mythology.
Returning now to my original point: when any being native to one World moves into a different World, this being will appear as a ghost in the World it is visiting. It may be strong enough, and / or its native world and Midgard may be close enough together, to appear as quite physical in Midgard, but there will always be some uncanny difference in their being. After we die and our Ghost moves permanently to the God-realms, then our Ghost is in its natural element and can exist as a physical being in that World (Asgard, Vanaheim, etc), as can the Gods and Goddesses. Many tales and lore from the Heathen lands tell of the Holy Ones appearing in physical form in Midgard, and in the foregoing paragraphs I described how this understanding may have shaped the Christian tale of the incarnation of Jesus for the old Saxons. I believe that this physicality is, for all of them, an optional form of existence, and that non-physical modes are also open to Deities and Ghosts.
It is very important, in understanding and developing our Ghost, to grasp the implications of the Ghost’s otherworldly nature. Our Ghost is honestly not very body-friendly, nor is it usually all that interested in the concerns of Midgard except as an arena where its talents can shine. The stronger our own Ghost is, the more likely it is that we neglect the care of our Lich or even reject the Lich altogether, unless our other souls such as our Hama, Ferah and Mod are strong enough to balance the Ghost. I mentioned earlier that people with wode-prone Ghosts often suffer from poor health. Religions or religious sects which see the Ghost / Spirit as the only human soul are sometimes notably hostile toward the body, limiting or denying needs such as sexuality, the enjoyment of food, bodily comfort, and Midgard pleasures generally. Their rationale is that our Spirit is here in Midgard in unwilling confinement, and that it can only be released and be its true self by denying and rejecting the Lich and Midgard, longing only for death and Heaven or the realms of Ahma.
To me, this view emphasizes the unhealthiness of believing that we have only one soul or spirit. For those who hold this belief, the one soul they believe in is the Spirit / Ghost who, in truth, is not native to Midgard nor particularly attached to Midgard. So it is no surprise that such world-rejecting religious practices arise, when only the Spirit is real to them. I find a Heathen perspective much healthier, with our multiple souls which can balance one another with their varied attachments to different Worlds, Midgard very much included, and different modes of being.
But in rejecting other world-denying and body-denying religious beliefs, we must not lose sight of the fact that our Ghost, with all its wonderful gifts and strengths, is not truly a friend to our Lich or to Midgard life. We should pursue all of its rich talents and abilities, and prepare our Ghost well for an afterlife in the God-realms by following the lead of the Holy Ones while we are in Midgard life. But we also must develop our other souls with equal strength, and strike a healthy balance to honor the richness of the Gods’ gifts of Midgard and our own Lich.
The conflict between the Ghost and other more Midgard-oriented souls, as well as a confirmation that Gods themselves have these souls, is poignantly shown in a passage in the Old Saxon Heliand, a retelling of the Christian gospels within a Germanic frame of reference, and using Germanic terms for our various souls. (Chapter 107, “Jesus prays on the Mount of Olives.”) This is the scene of Jesus’ agonizing effort to accept his fate of crucifixion, and the poet presents the scene, very intriguingly, as a dramatic conflict between several of Jesus’ souls. His Ghost is firmly committed to his Father-God’s mission; it is focused on the divine realms and eager to set forth out of Midgard even at the cost of the body’s pain and humiliation. Jesus’ other souls, however, are much less willing. The opposition party is led by his Likhamo (A-S lich-hama), his Hama-soul. Partnered with Likhamo are Hugi, Mod, and ‘flesh,’ his Lich. Eventually his Mod-soul crosses over to the side of the Ghost, and their combined weight leads to acceptance of the crucifixion. (See Becker p.19-20 and p.42-43.) This fascinating Germanic poetic representation of Jesus’ agonizing inner conflict clearly shows that the Ghost is not closely attached to Midgard concerns, and naturally prefers the divine realms, while many of our other souls are heavily involved in our Midgard life.
Summary
I envision Ahma as primal, unchanging Spirit arising from the foundations of the cosmos, while our Ghost-soul consists of Ahma enwrapped in a soul-skin which gives it shape, coherence, boundaries, and individual personhood. In this, I see these souls as being parallel to the Deities, who have the natures of both unbounded Spirit / Ahma, and of individual, personal divine beings, and can switch these natures at will, or live in them both at once. Our Ahma and Ghost work together to maintain us in physical life, and are at the same time connected to unbounded, eternal spiritual being. They do this through the process of breathing: as our Ghost rhythmically draws Ahma-energy into and out of its permeable soul-skin, our Lich-Hama (living body) breathes air in and out, following the rhythm of our Ghost’s breathing.
The power of wode flows through our Ghost-soul, in my understanding, and is both energized and controlled by various methods of breathing, including galdoring or chanting. Wode can express itself in ways ranging from mild inspiration, to highly-developed forms of genius, to battlefield trance, extraordinary physical abilities, and emergency reactiveness, to religious ecstasies and shamanic states, visions and prophecy, to mob behavior, hysteria and frenzy, to full-blown mania and madness. Athom-work (breath-work) and other disciplines and training can control and direct wode into beneficial channels.
In Closing
The original shaping and final destination of our Ghost are in the hands of the Gods. During our Midgard-life our Ghost is directly linked to the Gods and Goddesses and their realms of power. This link is powered by wode, and the fully developed Athom-Ghost learns to ride wode and athom to the height and breadth of human spiritual capacity. After our Midgard life is over, if all is well, Ghost moves on to dwell with the Gods and Goddesses, to share consciousness and experience with them. Alternatively, people with a strong sense of Spirit but no significant attachment to Deities may find that after death their Ghost dissolves its shape and releases the Ahma within it, to return to the formless fields of Spirit hovering above Ginnungagap.
If all is not well, Ghost will be in trouble after physical life is over (and probably during physical life, as well). It may get stuck or wander – lost, confused, angry, despairing – as a haunt within the Midgard-realm, until / unless it is able to reestablish an appropriate connection with the deities. It may wander off into other, less savory realms, giving up its original, Gods-given nature and distorting itself into some lesser form of being: perhaps evil, certainly less worthy than its true nature calls for. Some Heathen shamans and priest/esses have the kindness, courage and skill to come to the aid of these lost Ghosts and try to guide them, at least to a homely place in Hel, even if not to the God-realms.
If we wish our Ghosts to grow and mature, and end up with the Gods and Goddesses as is their nature, then it behooves us to keep our channels of understanding, trust and troth clear between us and the Deities to ensure that all happens as it should. The Holy Ones are not forced, after all, to accept our Ghosts as their friends. They offer their gifts, their friendship and aid for our use. It is up to us to make the most of these and grow to be worthy of their true friendship and companionship during and after life.
Bookhoard
Becker, Gertraud. Geist und Seele im Altsachsischen und im Althochdeutschen: Der Sinnbereich des Seelischen und die Worter gest-geist und seola-sela in den Denkmalern bis zum 11.Jahrhundert. Carl Winter Universitätsverlag, Heidelberg Germany 1964.
Cleasby, Richard, and Gudbrand Vigfusson. An Icelandic-English Dictionary. Oxford University Press, 1894.
de Vries, Jan. Altnordisches Etymologisches Worterbuch. E.J. Brill, Leiden, Holland, 1961.
Hall, J.R. Clark, with supplement by Herbert D. Merritt. A Concise Anglo-Saxon Dictionary, 4th Edition. University of Toronto Press, Toronto, Canada, 1960.
Jonsson, Finnur. Edda Snorra Sturlusonar. Udgivnet efter Handskrifterne af Kommissionen for det Arnamagnaeanske Legat. Gyldendalske Boghandel – Nordisk Forlag, Kobenhavn, Denmark, 1931.
Jonsson, Finnur. De Gamle Eddadigte. G.E.C. Gads Forlag, Kobenhavn, Denmark, 1932.
Larrington, Carolyne, transl. The Poetic Edda. Oxford University Press, New York, 2014.
Kellogg, Robert. A Concordance to Eddic Poetry. Colleagues Press, East Lansing MI, 1988.
Koene, J. R., transl. Heliand, oder das Lied vom Leben Jesu. Druck und Verlag der Theissing’schen Buchhandlung, Munster, 1855. (Dual language, Old Saxon and German)
Taylor, Arnold R. Icelandic-English / English-Icelandic Dictionary. Hippocrene Books, New York. 1990.
Mallory, J.P. and D.Q. Adams, editors. Encyclopedia of Indo-European Culture. Fitzroy Dearborn Publishers, Chicago, USA, 1997.
Paxson, Diana L. Odin: Ecstasy, Runes, Norse Magic. Red Wheel / Weiser Books, Newburyport MA, 2017.
Phillips, J.B. The New Testament in Modern English, Revised Edition. New York: Macmillan Publishing Co., 1972.
Walker, Benjamin. The Hindu World: An Encyclopedic Survey of Hinduism, 2 Vols. Fredrick A. Praeger, Publishers, New York 1968.
This article was originally published in Idunna: A Journal of Northern Tradition, #70 Winter 2006. Revised May 2021.