Waterfall - The Blue World: Water

Neolithic Shamanism: Spirit Work in the Norse Tradition - Raven Kaldera 2012

Waterfall
The Blue World: Water

Galina: Waterfalls are places of power. This was one of the first lessons I learned when exploring the magic of water. When I was recovering from being “elfshot,” a terrible form of magical attack that damages the joints and causes tremendous pain, I had the opportunity to travel (to Iceland, of all places). In a national park I was able to walk and stand beneath a waterfall, and the tremendous cleansing power of its spirit was just wonderful and wonderfully healing. To stand in a rush of power such as this family of spirits possesses by their very nature is a tremendously holy thing. I have also learned that there is occasionally some credence to faery tales of trolls living near waterfalls and under bridges. A small waterfall courses down next to a bridge near the home of one of my colleagues, and the spirit there translates to my senses as “troll.” I have not spoken to him. He does not seem to be particularly friendly toward humans, and I always sense that he wants to be left alone in his little tiny bit of territory. I honor that wish.

Raven: One of the first sacred places that I ever had a close alliance with was a local waterfall in a forest park between my home and my high school. I never minded walking to and from school in any weather because I could go through the woods and see the waterfall. It was about a six-foot drop across a thirty-foot-wide river, and there was a space behind it where—if you were brave enough, which I rarely was—you could slide behind the waterfall and stand against the wet stone, watching the fall less than a foot from your face. I would throw offerings behind it or (on brave days) scale down the bank and slide them into crevices behind the falls with my outstretched arm. I knew the spirit of the falls, who was different from the general spirit of the long Nashua River. I talked to him, and he gave me courage to face the brutality of daily torment as a “nerd” in public school.

One day, the paths were all blocked off and I could hear the sound of machinery. I later found that part of the public park had been leased to a power company, which turned it into a hydroelectric plant. I know that hydro is a cleaner power source than fossil fuels, and I understand the need, but they tore out the whole waterfall and built a plant across it. The River spirit, being a thing of many miles, managed to do all right. The Fall spirit did not survive. Where once I could see a furiously glowing, roaring blue spot when I looked down on the park from the overhanging hill with my Sight, now there was only blackness. My friends and I sat up on the hill at night, lighting candles and holding vigil for some hours, mourning the death of the Fall spirit. It was the first time I understood that spirit friends could die.

Up until that time, the park had been a friendly place where families could go in peace. Crime happened right outside it, where it met the edges of civilization. I remember sitting on the hill, holding my candle, and feeling the Forest spirit’s wrath. I wondered then about the relationship of that small patch of forest—whose spirit I was aware of even if I’d never spoken to her—to the waterfall in her center. I could feel that she reverberated with a fury that seemed to creep into every tree and make it creak with menace. I learned palpably on that night that no spirit of Nature lives in isolation without relationship to the others around it, even if we only know them singly, like the mail carrier who may have a spouse and children we will never see. Was the forest spirit his lover, his mother, his friend? Was I anthropomorphizing even to make those comparisons? I may never know, but after that the remaining parts of the park seemed unwelcoming to everyone. I could never bear to walk through it again, but I was told that the outskirts of the park became a place of muggings and gang activity, and children were kept from its paths. I will always believe that the Forest spirit took her vengeance on humans for the death of the waterfall.

The term for Waterfall spirits in Old Norse is forskarlar, which literally means “falls-men.” It was believed that they lived behind the falls in rich caves that no one could find unless invited. Searching for the home of the forskarlar on your own would yield only hard, wet cliff. Water faeries of all sorts were said to be drawn to waterfalls, and their reputation was one of both beauty and danger, which is true. Waterfall spirits are both beautiful and aggressive. It’s said that the roaring of the falls is their voice, constantly singing and shouting their joy and rage. Waterfall spirits are givers of joy and courage. The smaller the waterfall, the more it’s about joy; the bigger the fall, the more likely the spirit is to be aggressive and more interested in granting you similar attributes. Waterfalls possess enormous energy; the only time that they stop is when the river dries up (if it’s a small stream) or when winter in cold climates freezes everything solid. Even then, the frozen falls convey a sense of motion, and while the forskarlar may drift toward slumber, they are not entirely hibernating.

Image Exercise: Waterfall Courage

If you are timid and hesitant, or facing a huge and ugly situation that threatens to overcome you emotionally, and you live near a waterfall, see if you can make friends with the spirit. Visit the waterfall for several days running, and give it some kind of offering—perhaps sing to it or toss a cup of good liquor at the falls. If you can reach behind it safely, you can wedge something into the rocks behind the flowing water. (Obviously, if the waterfall is too large and powerful to approach safely, be respectful of its power and stay a safe distance away. Forskarlar are not the most gentle of Water spirits.) It may take a while to get its attention; these are very focused spirits who ignore most humans.

If you get its attention and make an alliance, ask it what its price is for a shot of courage. Be prepared to meet that price, whatever it is. When you’ve paid (and come back, if that’s necessary), sit down by the waterfall and ground and center. Lower your shields and open yourself to the pounding rhythm of the falls. Concentrate on its rhythm. Let the sound penetrate you entirely; synchronize your breathing to it, and hear it pounding in your blood. When it feels done—for “done,” read the Lake exercise—thank the Waterfall spirit and go forth on your quest.