The Norwegian Sage Apothecary is now open for orders. It’s been a wild and nourishing harvest ~ and the spirits of nature are eager to serve body, mind and soul…
The elixirs are pure gifts from nature, soul medicine from the depths of my heart, a coming of my own love affair with the wild weeds and landscapes. They are distillations of our nordic ecology, answers to imbalances and guardians of connection ~ seeking to support our sensory journey into wholeness and health.
All the answers we need can be found in Nature.. Today I had the honour of guiding a ritual for Ida to mark her 40 years around the Sun and a transition into conscious queendom and feminine sovereignty. We wandered the forests of Bygdøy supported by ecotherapy practices to connect to the sensory truth and timeless wisdom of each present moment and deep breath. The journey was inspired by Ida’s Life Work Gene Key 61 - The Holy of Holiest.
The dance of fire and water led our way through the white landscape, and we broke out in ecstacy to witness the sacred geometry of the hundered of snowstars that melted on our skin. Between glowing pines, faded jade moss and steaming cups of local tea, our original condition was restored and red roses blossomed on our cheeks.
Slowly and steadily, we are bringing back our traditional rites of passage to mark the transition between different phases in our lives. In today’s society many people lose themselves in these transitions, since we have lost many of our traditional healing arts and practices of our local cultures and land.
The rites serve to cultivate deeper self-trust, responsibility, and a personal understanding of one’s unique purpose in society and the natural world. They are also portals to the archetypal elements of Nature and can be passed from one generation to the next, in a flow that evokes the continuity of life and reminds us of our place in the Great Mystery.
Creating a Rite of Passage is a also way to nurture a sense of renewal and belonging to inner and outer nature, rekindle our connection with our ancestors, weave us deeper into a sense of guardianship of Nature, and help us recalibrate our centre and make sense of change on a planet in rapid transformation.
To request your own Rite of Passage or read more about my work with Pathfinding and Medicine Journeys, see http://www.norwegiansage.com/pathfinding
The word 'advent' derives from latin 'adventus', meaning arrival, or approach. In the Christian tradition this is the period of the great waiting - for the arrival of the holy Son into the world. Long before the time of Jesus however, communities world wide spent the period before Winter Solstice (this year on December 21st) honouring the coming of the light.
In the Arctic territories, stretching over the four countries Norway, Sweden, Finland, and Russia, the sun in winter does not even reach the horizon. In Northern mythology, the Sun was seen as a goddess riding the heavenly skies, disappearing in the dark months, and returning with new life in the spring. For the Sami, the indigenous people of the Nordic countries, her name is Beaivi. She is the mother of fertility, raindeer and of plants. And since the early Neolithic age, nomadic tribes across the northern hemisphere have also paid tribute to the female raindeer, the 'life giving mother', as she was the leader of the herds upon which they depended for survival.
Advent for me has become a time for bridging the ancient and modern traditions with the simple message of seeing the light in darkness. Awareness of humanity’s deep, inner connections with the rhythms of the natural world. Honouring the potential of the seeds of light we have collected in the summer months. As autumn gives way to winter, and the quiet deepens and settles over the villages, we move into a time of silent warmth. This is also a time for moving our attention inwards, for reflection, and for honouring and kindling the light, flames and sparks inside each and every one of us.
In Norway, where I grew up, this would be the day for lighting the first of four candles, counting down the days to the arrival of the Light. Gathering friends around a fire, maybe even make a Sacred Spiral with pine branches or dry leaves, an anthroposophic advent tradition honouring the four kingdoms of the world, and the four virtues of peace, faith, hope and charity.
Tonight, in Nepal, I am placing four candles in the centre of the crystal mandala, and singing first verse of the beautiful tune that goes with the tradition, which I now call the ‘Boddhisattva Advent Song’:
Tenn lys!
Et lys skal brenne for denne lille jord.
Den blanke himmelstjerne, der vi og alle bor.
Må alle dele håpet så gode ting kan skje.
Må jord og himmel møtes. Et lys er tent for det.
//
Light the candle!
One candle will burn, for this small earth.
For this beaming star of the sky that we call our home.
May all beings share the hope that good things can come about.
May earth and heaven meet. For this, one light is lit.
I also love this poem by Rudolf Steiner, honouring the natural elements:
“The first light of Advent is the light of stones.
Stones that live in crystals, seashells, and bones.
The second light of Advent is the light of plants.
Roots, stem, leaf, flower and fruit by whom we live and grow.
The third light of Advent is the light of beasts.
Animals of farm, field, forest, air and sea.
All await the birth in greatest and in least.
The fourth light of Advent is the light of humankind.
The light of love, the light of thought, to give and to understand.”
Spending Easter/Eostre deep down in myths, folklore and poetry, looking out over the Himalayan mountain range. Today - If Women Rose Rooted, by Sharon Blackie, about how to transform 'the wastelands of modern society to a place of nourishment and connection', by resurrecting and reinventing the narratives that make up our cultural and bioregional foundations.
Stories matter. From an early age, we make sense of the world and make up our identities through the sharing and passing of stories. The stories of our ancestors were inherited, and many were about heroes who went off on adventure to save a woman from dark forces, and rescue the kingdom. In our surviving mythology, literature and culture, women are often seen as innocent, helpless maidens or alluring, mischievous temptresses needing to be saved or confined, when they used to take the centre stage as guardians and protectors of nature.
Joseph Campell says “Women don’t need to make the hero’s journey. In the whole mythological journey, the woman is there. All she has to realise that she’s the place that people are trying to get to.” With all due respect, he’s missing the point. In the heroine’s journey, it’s not about slaying the dragon, and returning home. It is about uncovering and passing on our authentic values, and waking up to the creative feminine power which will in turn balance the scale of planetary equilibrium.
I would like to see a movement where women and communities revive the stories that have shaped their cultures, tales of how to live in harmony with the land. Freya, Durga, Kali, Huldra, Reina de Floresta, Rán. Stories of wise and powerful females in native mythology, combined with modern environmental literature. Time to unearth the goddesses of the Northern/Scandinavian/Celtic mythological lineage and unleash the heroines of our folklore.
“If women remember that once upon a time we sang with the tongues of seals and flew with the wings of swan, that we forged our paths through the dark forest while creating a community of its many inhabitants, then we will rise up rooted, like trees.” - SB
“Refusing to confine itself in the whalebone corset of national borders, the ‘Celtic fringe’ - made up of specific regions of the countries which stretch along the western oceanic coastline of Europe - binds together richly diverse populations with a strong thread of collective cultural identity. That thread isn’t founded on tribalism or nationalism, not is it about genetics. These entanglements emerge from shared history, mythology and common belief systems; they arise out of a common landscape and environment which brought about a highly distinctive pan-Celtic culture that is rooted in intense feelings of belonging to place”. (Ibid.)
Who are the divine, powerful women of your culture? Which nature-dancers will be of inspiration to the next generations?What will be the storyline of the eco-heroine's journey?
Illustration by Elisabeth Alba picturing the Scandinavian water-goddess Rán, guardian of the Northern seas.
Photos and text: Caroline Hargreaves
"The biodiversity crisis, which presents us with dangers as profound and costly as climate change does, demands the creation of an equal and corresponding political will to act. The environment is the economy. No problem – not poverty, not climate changes, not the economic downturn – can be addressed without simultaneously restoring the systems that are life itself. We must look to what is left of our planet. In rewilding, we have dreamed up the ways and means to keep it alive. Now, we must only connect." - Caroline James
This is Judith. Judith is a systems-restorer. Wise. Wild. A seeder and grower of tree. Of light.
In this series of deep green initiatives in Nepal, we continue our journey to 'Everyday Organic', a green haven supplying and growing vegetables, trees, and herbs near Patalekhet village in Kavre district. From 1987 to 1994, the American couple Jim and Judith lived in Gamcha village near Thimi, promoting local ceramics and experimenting with organic farming between California and Kathmandu.
Today's nursery 'Everything Organic', was established in 2010, and aims to reinvigorate the wealth and health of traditional Nepali rural life and promoting this lifestyle to young nepalis by combining ancient practices with new approaches and techniques for organic farming. Nepal, which is still suffering after the earthquakes of 2015, has a vast potential for the production of organic produce. Sadly, decades of pesticides and chemical fertilizers have polluted the soil. The effect has now been directly linked to disease and poor health conditions amongst farming working directly with the substances in the surrounding areas.
Judith's farm demonstrates and teaches biointensive organic farming, which produces particularly large and healthy yields. In seven years, Oma has trained over 200 local farmers, mostly women, and over 50 of them have since adopted the organic practices. Her colleagues Binod and Shyam are spreading the knowledge across the country. Through their work, they are reconnecting with the soil, so that the dependent and destructive habits of chemical fertilizers can be eliminated and the production increased.
Working and cooperating with the local communities on marketing, trading of saplings and produce also inspires a new form of economic collaboration which strengthens and decentralises the local units. The trade of seedlings, food and wisdom between geographical communities is already part of the new economy of Nepal. Is it part of yours?
The farm has also experimented extensively with composting, water irrigation and pest control, and believes in sharing their findings with environmental activists around the world. In the following sheets, you can learn about:
Sustainability has become a household word today. Socially responsible entrepreneurs proclaim that sustainable business will save the world. Bureaucrats in the World Bank promote sustainable development in developing countries. Organic farmers describe their practices as sustainable agriculture. But when we shed of all the superficial layers, what is sustainability really about? Roar Bjonnes reflects on the innate meaning of the concept and sketches out some key features of a life-centered economy.
Today I realised that Norwegians through countless treks into the mountains, have learned to speak the language of snow. In surfing or sailing, you learn to speak to the ocean, you learn the language of the waves. In the mountains, the water takes another shape, and you need to face ice, frost, powder and ‘skare’. ‘Skare’ is a Norwegian word, which means a type of condition where the top layers of snow has frozen to ice, resting on the softer snow underneath.
As you flow down narrow slopes in the wilderness, through pine trees and past frozen lakes, your body will naturally try to keep itself in balance, but like the waves on the open waters, snow is unpredictable. Every small edge and layer of the track calls for a shift in weight and adjustment. From early childhood, we have learned to conquer these conditions by reading and adapting to the constant stream of the snow covered surface passing by underneath our skis.
Adapting to the snow on cross country skis also requires a certain type of wax, from solid to melted. In the stone-age, they used slithers of leather or fur to find the grip, which later evolved to other substances such as tar or resin from pine trees or birch. Norwegian explorer Fridtjof Nansen used liquid stearine under his skis when he trekked over Greenland in 1888. The first know ‘professional’ wax was made in Sierra Nevada in the 1860s, and called Frank Steward's Old Black Dope, containing spermaceti (found in the head cavities of the sperm whale), pine, tar, and camphor.
What blessing to learn the language of the elements, and to go deeper into nature’s shapeshifting qualities. However, as many of the indigenous peoples turn away from traditional lifestyles, the expertise and wisdom held together in both their written and kinetic vocabulary fades. We still have a great deal to remember and to keep alive..
It is a common myth that the inuits have over 200 words for snow. In Western Greenland, for instance, they only use two basic words; qanik which means 'snow in the air', and aput, which means 'snow on the land'. In Northern Canada, they use elaborate terms to describe their frozen landscapes: “aqilokoq” for “softly falling snow” and “piegnartoq” for “the snow that is good for driving sled,” to name just two. The Norwegian indigenous peoples, Samis, were nomads and raindeer herders and therefore needed more words to describe how the snow changed shape, in order to find the best conditions to set up tents and tend to the herds. So fascinating. I wonder how they speak of snow in the Himalayas..
If you set out into the mountains this Easter, reflect on the qualities of the snow on which you are moving, your body's language, and how your mind is constantly working to stabilise on the surface. Maybe there’s a life lesson hiding somewhere in the experience..