Bearskin is a fairy tale collected by the brothers Grimm. It tells the story of a discharged soldier without options who comes upon "the devil in a green coat" who tests him by summoning a bear which is quickly dispatched by the man who would then be known as "Bearskin" is offered unlimited money and wealth that comes from the devils coat that is given to bearskin. However he is also made to wear the skin of the bear and not wash or trim any part of his body for seven years. If he fails his soul is the devils. As the years go by bearskin gets hairier and dirtier until he is often mistaken for a bear, often relying on the devils gold to find lodging such even in the stables. In one such case he meets a man with three daughters who is in dire need of funds or he will be ruined. He aids the man and is rewarded with the hand of his daughter. The two older daughters reject him, but the youngest agrees. Bearskin gives her half a ring and swears to return when his seven years are up. The youngest daughter dresses in mourning and is mocked by her sisters. Bearskin is washed and groomed after he completes his seven years and returns for his bride which he shows who he is with the other half of the ring. They are happily married and the older sisters die by their hands. To which the devil is pleased for getting two souls instead of one.
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"The devil in a green coat" is likely a memory of a horned hunting god such as Holler or Ewicher Yeeger. While the whole ordeal of bearskin seems a likely christianized story of a berserker and/or warrior trial. The bear is somewhat demonized a common tactic while covering stories. This is also an odd depiction of the bearskin motif as in folklore a bearskin often causes complete transformation until removed, sort of like a curse.
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"The devil in a green coat" is likely a memory of a horned hunting god such as Holler or Ewicher Yeeger. While the whole ordeal of bearskin seems a likely christianized story of a berserker and/or warrior trial. The bear is somewhat demonized a common tactic while covering stories. This is also an odd depiction of the bearskin motif as in folklore a bearskin often causes complete transformation until removed, sort of like a curse.
Ziva, also known as Zhiva, Siwe, Siwa, Zhibog Siva, Sieba, Razivia, Sifka, Sifa and more. Is a Slavic goddess associated with life, light and fertility. She also governs the transference of energy and can help people get over depression and become full of energy. Similar to Mokosh, Ziva can help with childbirth. However Ziva differs in that she has far more focus on land fertility. Being associated highly with Orchards and wheat. With some of the oldest depictions of her being naked and holding a golden apple that glows in her hands. Similar to Idunn with her imagery being tied into Eve (Weird I know) due to the similarity. Ziva is more prominent in Western Slavic countries while Mokosh is more prominent in Eastern. Though they both appear in the Balkans. With Ziva even having had a temple that stood at Lake Bled in Slovenia upon the Isle of Bled. A church was built over her temple where her priests wore horns as a symbol of their commitment. Similar to Mokosh she was blended into the Worship of Mary. One of the oddest things about Ziva is how far her range was from far east to West into Germany and possibly worshipped by some Germanic tribes. With her names varying to a point very similar to Sif. Making it possible that similar to Hel, Svetovid, Baldr, and Othin she may have been part of the blending as the two sets of cultures met or diverged. However it is just as likely they are similarly named due to linguistic similarities in those areas. Being two possibly related but different goddesses. Still she is an interesting example of a borderland goddess. Many people still have variations on Ziva and Zhiva s their last names perhaps a call back to this goddess. Her name means “Living, Being, Existing” or “Life God” Which notably does differ from Sif's “In-Law”. However it ties into her ties to life. She is said to be daughter of Rod or Svarog and a sibling to Morana, Vesna, Lada, Perun, and wife to Dahzbog in some sources. Where she helps spread his light upon the earth. Despite there being less written about her she is one of the most well known and prominent goddesses of the Slavs and one of the few who can contend with Mokosh for the top spot.
The Apotheosis of Washington (1865) depicting Washington ascending to godhood in the heavens. He is flanked by liberty and victory and the 13 colonies (maidens) encircle him. Six gods exist on the edges: Mercury (Commerce), Ceres (agriculture), Neptunas Rex ( Marine), Vulcan (Mechanics), Minerva (science), Columbia (war). Depicted in the rotunda of the US capitol building.
The Harlequinn or Hellequin is a leader of the Wild Hunt in French folklore. He is known as a demon or fae in christianized lore but wawass likely either a deity or role fulfilled by a deity. He is likely tied into the myth of King Herla another leader of the Wild Hunt found in Britain. He has since become a well known figure in carnival, medieval imagery, and the DC character Harley Quinn. His name likely translates to "Kin of Hel". He at one point seems to have tried to woo Morgan ( perhaps Morgan la Fae) and is a prince of the fae.
Aker, also known as Akerbeltz. Is a Basque spirit or deity his name translates as “Billy goat” or more specifically “Black Billy goat”. He is one of the most well known gods of Basque folklore and had both positive and negative attributes. His positives were likened to Mari the mother goddess of the Basque. While his more negative side was to be feared. He is typically seen as a black billy goat though at times he appears more similar to the traditional image of the devil as a goat headed man. He was a critical part in Basque folk culture especially surrounding covens of witches (pagan priestesses) during the witch's sabbath also known as the Akerlarreak. Where a black billy goat would serve as a stand in for either Akerbeltz or Mari. Taking the spirit of the deity in physical form. Offerings of bread and eggs were given to the goat which was often also decorated. Aker was also known to protect the home and livestock which began a tradition of keeping a black goat in order to protect the animals and home. The worship of Aker was often used as a way to keep to the old ways and nature worship, during times of christian pressures. However there was quite a bit of pressure on them as Aker was called the devil. It was claimed the witches had perverse sexual encounters with the goat and that the goat was a manifestation of Satan conducting a witches sabbath. As such lore of the witches turning into cats or possessing cats and taking fines from “Pious women” and trying to force them to the covens spread quickly. Resulting the demonization of this important Basque deity. There is also another form similar to a sort of horned god and wildman that is said to be a fusion of Akerbeltz and the wildman wizard Basajaun. This satyr like deity is known as Junicot and is similar to Pan in appearance. What is your favorite thing about Akerbeltz?
What is Paganism?
Our People, from the oldest elder to the newest born, from reflections of ourselves echoed towards the past and reverberated forward across the eons. In the laughs of our frolicking young to the stern countenance of our living legends, from divine spark and divine breath from times long forgotten in all but blood, in memories that hang in the back of our minds and loom across our spirit. The memory of blood and the collective unconscious fall deeper and deeper back, in cities long turned to dust and forests frozen across the north. In smoky breath and fallen smiles beneath the northern dawn, in Frozen hands kissed by Boreas alit by Hyperion and Sunne. In crunching snow and broken grass beneath the paws and hooves of slinking beasts. Upon paths long dug and rivers long dead, within the sand that once was mountains and the mountains that once were sand. The fury and the heart was born in times before we can recall in all but racial memory they have faded. In that first elation of the dew on infants feet crowned in a smile of joy immeasurable. To that moment of the shade when warriors fall or matriarchs bid farewell surrounded by keening kin. In the whispers upon the lake and streams, of sunlight dancing upon the maidens face, the cold was gone as moonlit dancers welcomed the sun and fertile feet brought clover forth from icy ground. Even in the chill of night the fire was tamed and tempered its elemental power caressed in tender hands, in warmth much deeper than mere touch. Emboldening hearts who leapt the pyre joined together, and in the forge the fire made arms of legends.
Snowflakes fell as lips of blood and hair of night in vampiric melancholic wonder cloaked the land in restful chill. The She Bear watched and slumbered and the Great Wolf Howled as the moon danced with her beloved. The nights were long the days were short, little lights spread across the sky and were reflected in the lanterns of those below. The Seasons danced as frost drew upon the earth his wondrous designs, men were built of fallen snow with children's woolen hands and lovers rested in each others arms hearts too hot to feel the chill. Tradition's wove themselves in grand tapestries, fates were made and destiny's met. As legends were placed in the stars and storms sent mighty thunder through, the hunt galloped in its splendor upon the white hind. The Eternal Hunt, the eternal goal, a golden age begat a silver one, heroes rose in times of need and iron was our will. Giants roamed with frosted beard in jagged mountain edges upon gleaming frozen kingdoms. The Great oaks grew as the forest followed where we stepped. Enchanted woods in enchanted memories where three sisters lodged and told your tale and mothers spun their children's best. From cloth of roaming clouds and wild flowers. As fields of windswept gold accented ancient groves filled with fruit tart as autumn mornings and sweet as summer honey.
Boats were built and seas were journeyed, monsters fought and serpents found. An Odyssey was told of lands far beyond the setting sun, of songs of the sea and of water dwelling maidens. The North breathed as one, a people joined by memory and song, in woods of elder trees. The Rivers and seas connected our people, as the Old River Fathers drained into the ladies realm whose treasures she did keep, and the Old Man in the sea stewarded his beloved's charge. Generations passed and many tears were shed of joy and sorrow aplenty. Kin were buried in mounds of old and groves of loving souls. The House spirits and forest lords arose to help caretake. Cream was left for whiskered fae and small houses were made for elves to stay. Then snow topped mountain peaks, birthed the river beds, who fed the lakes and streams, villages we built beside these banks of gleaming glass. As the hart ran from pitch black hounds and the horned one faced his kill, the green man stalked his joyous friends who reveled in life's many tales.
Of wars fought by furious hosts and kings who wore crowns of stars, of servants who became the greatest kings and kings who
Our People, from the oldest elder to the newest born, from reflections of ourselves echoed towards the past and reverberated forward across the eons. In the laughs of our frolicking young to the stern countenance of our living legends, from divine spark and divine breath from times long forgotten in all but blood, in memories that hang in the back of our minds and loom across our spirit. The memory of blood and the collective unconscious fall deeper and deeper back, in cities long turned to dust and forests frozen across the north. In smoky breath and fallen smiles beneath the northern dawn, in Frozen hands kissed by Boreas alit by Hyperion and Sunne. In crunching snow and broken grass beneath the paws and hooves of slinking beasts. Upon paths long dug and rivers long dead, within the sand that once was mountains and the mountains that once were sand. The fury and the heart was born in times before we can recall in all but racial memory they have faded. In that first elation of the dew on infants feet crowned in a smile of joy immeasurable. To that moment of the shade when warriors fall or matriarchs bid farewell surrounded by keening kin. In the whispers upon the lake and streams, of sunlight dancing upon the maidens face, the cold was gone as moonlit dancers welcomed the sun and fertile feet brought clover forth from icy ground. Even in the chill of night the fire was tamed and tempered its elemental power caressed in tender hands, in warmth much deeper than mere touch. Emboldening hearts who leapt the pyre joined together, and in the forge the fire made arms of legends.
Snowflakes fell as lips of blood and hair of night in vampiric melancholic wonder cloaked the land in restful chill. The She Bear watched and slumbered and the Great Wolf Howled as the moon danced with her beloved. The nights were long the days were short, little lights spread across the sky and were reflected in the lanterns of those below. The Seasons danced as frost drew upon the earth his wondrous designs, men were built of fallen snow with children's woolen hands and lovers rested in each others arms hearts too hot to feel the chill. Tradition's wove themselves in grand tapestries, fates were made and destiny's met. As legends were placed in the stars and storms sent mighty thunder through, the hunt galloped in its splendor upon the white hind. The Eternal Hunt, the eternal goal, a golden age begat a silver one, heroes rose in times of need and iron was our will. Giants roamed with frosted beard in jagged mountain edges upon gleaming frozen kingdoms. The Great oaks grew as the forest followed where we stepped. Enchanted woods in enchanted memories where three sisters lodged and told your tale and mothers spun their children's best. From cloth of roaming clouds and wild flowers. As fields of windswept gold accented ancient groves filled with fruit tart as autumn mornings and sweet as summer honey.
Boats were built and seas were journeyed, monsters fought and serpents found. An Odyssey was told of lands far beyond the setting sun, of songs of the sea and of water dwelling maidens. The North breathed as one, a people joined by memory and song, in woods of elder trees. The Rivers and seas connected our people, as the Old River Fathers drained into the ladies realm whose treasures she did keep, and the Old Man in the sea stewarded his beloved's charge. Generations passed and many tears were shed of joy and sorrow aplenty. Kin were buried in mounds of old and groves of loving souls. The House spirits and forest lords arose to help caretake. Cream was left for whiskered fae and small houses were made for elves to stay. Then snow topped mountain peaks, birthed the river beds, who fed the lakes and streams, villages we built beside these banks of gleaming glass. As the hart ran from pitch black hounds and the horned one faced his kill, the green man stalked his joyous friends who reveled in life's many tales.
Of wars fought by furious hosts and kings who wore crowns of stars, of servants who became the greatest kings and kings who
fell to paupers feet. Of wildmen within the woods and loves labors lost and won. Of curses and magic mirrors of those who walked amidst the clouds or deep beneath the waves. Of giant kin and serpent kings of Summer's restful sleep, of sunken cities and apples bitten and roses that enveloped eternal sleep. Of palaces of glass and swords that cut through time. Of wandering magicians and bards of legends rhyme. Whose very song could cause a people to weep themselves to sleep, a melody of eons passed sung sweeter than true loves kiss. Men of music journeyed deep into the lands below to find the love they sought so deeply in palaces of gems and gold. The Queen below who nursed the souls and gently sent them back, could not abide and so a pain was cast upon their breast. Sung deep and dearly for his loss he cried out his deep pain, in misery and beauty both his music cast its spell.
Cities rose and fell within the trees and mountains, but the heart remained of a people strong and hardy of frame. Even with War our brother and Death our mistress, we kept making the same mistakes. The forests fell the cities roared, we forgot our brother we shunned our mistress. Life became a meaningless slog and lies clouded the eyes of babes. Spirits no longer danced within the waters and the valleys. Dull grayness swept the minds of man, who once knew only glory. Honor faded in the wind and leaders grew dense and undeserving. Where once high kings presided men of confidence now sat, a smirk upon their face. Children dying cold in streets with not even matches to light their way, hungry belly's in times of plenty and docile minds in heavy times. Our woman denied their ethereal beauty our men denied their regal bestial splendor. Magic faded as we willed it, The dragons went away. Denied our heart denied our spirit and even our forms true face. The mirror had lost its magic, its reflection no longer gave peace but only sorrow. Heavy eyes and joyless smiles now were all that remained. Burdens built and laid upon our backs, as day in and day out we completed our Sisyphean tasks. The Bear no longer had her woods, the wolf had lost his sight. The Vixen fled as calls of Vermin filled the air. The animals of spring no longer dared to leave their lair. In misery and in the desertion of contentment. A plague came across the land first of mind but then of body as the dead danced in maniacal madness.
Fires burned and stories faded, hope was low and anger high. Betrayal as man was weighed for gold instead of deeds, legends faded to the page and gods were deemed as demons. Families torn and kinships faltered, lands were lost one by one. Til Mother Europa was all that stood. But in our hearts our Brother stayed and our Mistress never swayed. In anger and in hope we took the lands the desert ate and brought the forest home, but cloud still filled our mind lies still cloaked our heart. Temples to the grandest lie were built across our lands, as forests fell to build a beast whose talons scarred our lands. Still the lights were lit within the coldest nights, still the dew drops brought a smile, still the fire joined two hearts and still the spirits waved, quiet though it was in wild lands we found our heart and called upon our ways. In the language of the birds the gods whispered our true names. Stories told once more as the beast began to lose its grip, the lies no longer tolerated, the crimes no longer were forgiven.
Beasts we made as the souls of those before enveloped us once more, our men were regal once again, our women returned ethereal as the night sky. We recalled the oldest dreams and times of joy gone by. The echoes came and joined again the blood sang its true lore. No more shall the lies be told no more shall our souls be bound. The war drums beat within our hearts the horn of aid has finally cast its sound. The beings that deem themselves our equal who drain our blood and steal our dreams are no longer to be found in the world to come. The mountains once more shall glitter in the frost, the rivers once more give their gifts of shimmering lif
Cities rose and fell within the trees and mountains, but the heart remained of a people strong and hardy of frame. Even with War our brother and Death our mistress, we kept making the same mistakes. The forests fell the cities roared, we forgot our brother we shunned our mistress. Life became a meaningless slog and lies clouded the eyes of babes. Spirits no longer danced within the waters and the valleys. Dull grayness swept the minds of man, who once knew only glory. Honor faded in the wind and leaders grew dense and undeserving. Where once high kings presided men of confidence now sat, a smirk upon their face. Children dying cold in streets with not even matches to light their way, hungry belly's in times of plenty and docile minds in heavy times. Our woman denied their ethereal beauty our men denied their regal bestial splendor. Magic faded as we willed it, The dragons went away. Denied our heart denied our spirit and even our forms true face. The mirror had lost its magic, its reflection no longer gave peace but only sorrow. Heavy eyes and joyless smiles now were all that remained. Burdens built and laid upon our backs, as day in and day out we completed our Sisyphean tasks. The Bear no longer had her woods, the wolf had lost his sight. The Vixen fled as calls of Vermin filled the air. The animals of spring no longer dared to leave their lair. In misery and in the desertion of contentment. A plague came across the land first of mind but then of body as the dead danced in maniacal madness.
Fires burned and stories faded, hope was low and anger high. Betrayal as man was weighed for gold instead of deeds, legends faded to the page and gods were deemed as demons. Families torn and kinships faltered, lands were lost one by one. Til Mother Europa was all that stood. But in our hearts our Brother stayed and our Mistress never swayed. In anger and in hope we took the lands the desert ate and brought the forest home, but cloud still filled our mind lies still cloaked our heart. Temples to the grandest lie were built across our lands, as forests fell to build a beast whose talons scarred our lands. Still the lights were lit within the coldest nights, still the dew drops brought a smile, still the fire joined two hearts and still the spirits waved, quiet though it was in wild lands we found our heart and called upon our ways. In the language of the birds the gods whispered our true names. Stories told once more as the beast began to lose its grip, the lies no longer tolerated, the crimes no longer were forgiven.
Beasts we made as the souls of those before enveloped us once more, our men were regal once again, our women returned ethereal as the night sky. We recalled the oldest dreams and times of joy gone by. The echoes came and joined again the blood sang its true lore. No more shall the lies be told no more shall our souls be bound. The war drums beat within our hearts the horn of aid has finally cast its sound. The beings that deem themselves our equal who drain our blood and steal our dreams are no longer to be found in the world to come. The mountains once more shall glitter in the frost, the rivers once more give their gifts of shimmering lif
e beside their banks. The forest shall regrow its bounty, the peoples soul will be relit. The Sleeping Kings shall reawake and the old ways will be new again.
The Woman shall once more make their magic, the men shall crown themselves in regal strength. Honor shall prevail and glory shall rejoice. Victory will cheer her cheers and Liberty will wipe away her joyful tears. The wolf returned will again serenade the night, the forest cousin will once more in ursine glory rule the woods with might. The Mighty Boar and Royal Hart will be hunted once more as the legends ride across the sky. The trees will grow once more in groves where heroes will reside, the maiden will once more dance, the crone will once more preside. Joy will fill the hearth and home and the taste of butter will fill the soul, the scent of sun blessed honey will fill the air. Aether will once more be breathed and crowns of stars will again adorn the kings. Charlatans will fall and lies will drown the honorless. Days so dark the light will fade will open to the sun as roses in the summer or Tulips in the spring, and gazing out generations still to come will see what has been done and know the world well. Wisdom once more fills the soul, courage fills the heart, strength is born within once more.
Deep within the blood from the coldest nights of northern chill to the summers spent in rivers dancing, from our northern coat to our natures eye, to the three gifts at the beginning. From every nameless babe who died before their mothers breast to each elderly warrior who died with glory in his name. The Harlequin doth dance, the wander hath traveled, the smith has placed the heavens above and the helm upon the brow, the Hearth fills the heart and home, the mother grows her forests back, the spirits dance and play once more. The Home is true at last, in all this memory from the time our spirit was born when songs were sung and conflict born when nothing and everything met, to each form we take and shape we seek, beneath the Northern Dawn, within the shimmering cold bloodlands that glitter in the sun, we are there from the beginning to the end for may we fade to naught but a memory a ghost of deeds long done, our descendants and our ancestors will recall in the song of the blood, the gods and legends of our folk, in worlds built with hands of might and magic done with the tenderest kiss. This all we are and more, a divine spark lit beyond the potential of the sun, and in these times that will soon pass legends will be made, for what are the gods but the greatest of our ghosts, in memory of blood born from a collective spirit we find ourselves once more at the point. The point where legends rise in an age of heroes and gods live amongst men.
The Woman shall once more make their magic, the men shall crown themselves in regal strength. Honor shall prevail and glory shall rejoice. Victory will cheer her cheers and Liberty will wipe away her joyful tears. The wolf returned will again serenade the night, the forest cousin will once more in ursine glory rule the woods with might. The Mighty Boar and Royal Hart will be hunted once more as the legends ride across the sky. The trees will grow once more in groves where heroes will reside, the maiden will once more dance, the crone will once more preside. Joy will fill the hearth and home and the taste of butter will fill the soul, the scent of sun blessed honey will fill the air. Aether will once more be breathed and crowns of stars will again adorn the kings. Charlatans will fall and lies will drown the honorless. Days so dark the light will fade will open to the sun as roses in the summer or Tulips in the spring, and gazing out generations still to come will see what has been done and know the world well. Wisdom once more fills the soul, courage fills the heart, strength is born within once more.
Deep within the blood from the coldest nights of northern chill to the summers spent in rivers dancing, from our northern coat to our natures eye, to the three gifts at the beginning. From every nameless babe who died before their mothers breast to each elderly warrior who died with glory in his name. The Harlequin doth dance, the wander hath traveled, the smith has placed the heavens above and the helm upon the brow, the Hearth fills the heart and home, the mother grows her forests back, the spirits dance and play once more. The Home is true at last, in all this memory from the time our spirit was born when songs were sung and conflict born when nothing and everything met, to each form we take and shape we seek, beneath the Northern Dawn, within the shimmering cold bloodlands that glitter in the sun, we are there from the beginning to the end for may we fade to naught but a memory a ghost of deeds long done, our descendants and our ancestors will recall in the song of the blood, the gods and legends of our folk, in worlds built with hands of might and magic done with the tenderest kiss. This all we are and more, a divine spark lit beyond the potential of the sun, and in these times that will soon pass legends will be made, for what are the gods but the greatest of our ghosts, in memory of blood born from a collective spirit we find ourselves once more at the point. The point where legends rise in an age of heroes and gods live amongst men.
Ghost Riders in the Sky is the American name for the wild hunt myth (not counting the Yule specific legends) the core of this localized legend spawns from Texas where a cattle driver by the name of Sawyer caused a Stampede after a homestead was built in his path killing the occupants but also sending many of his men, horses, and hundreds of his own cattle over a cliff, he forced his grief stricken men to continue the cattle drive but never worked again dissapearing into alcoholism. Later the next cattle drive suffered the same fate and the legends of a haunted mesa with longhorns and damned cowboys joined the great hunt across the sky. This legend inspired Burl Ives song "Ghost Riders in the Sky" that was later popularized by Johnny Cash, "The Man in Black" a legend in his own right.
The Big White Wolf is a mythical beast, guardian, and possible deity of the Dacians (modern day Romanians consider these part of their ancestry). Legend says he was once a white haired yet young follower of the chief god Zamolxis, who endlessly travelled aiding the people and animals alike, he was noticed by Zamolxis who changed him into the Big White Wolf who led the leaderless packs of wolves forth to defend Dacia. The priest was eventually given the option of remaining a wolf or a man and chose the former. However in order to placate Rome when they invaded the Dacian's turned on the wolves hoping to give them the white wolves head. But Zamolxis and the wolf retreated to the mountain with tears in their hearts. But they are remembered in the Dacian Draco a wolf serpent who led the people into batlle in the romanian Legends of werewolves that came from the big white wolf, and in the waking hearts of their people.