The Myth and Magic of Santa Claus

Imagine please, that we can hold up a mental image of that "right jolly old elf," and peel away the layers of commercialism and elaborately composed scenarios of daily life attributed to the modern characterization of Santa Claus and travel back in our time machine to the origins of the Elf himself. Once again we must look for the origin of our legendary symbol of Christmas Tide in the forests of northern Europe. It was in that wild and unconquerable region of the primal forest that the Teutonic peoples worshipped a wild Norse God who's name was Woden. (We can thank him for the name of our midweek day, "Wednesday.") Woden eventually became Odin and was revered as a god of magic, occult knowledge, poetry and war. He had the Shamanic ability to shape shift and could travel in other worlds. Eventually, he was depicted as an aged man, of great stature with flowing white hair and beard. Dressed in a cloak, he traveled across the skies on a magical white horse. At the Solstice, Odin lead his followers across the skies in a wild and fierce hunt … some later accounts say that German children set their shoes out on the night of Odin's hunt, filled with oats and hay for the horses which Odin and his followers rode.

Georg von Rosen

Oden's Hunt

Early in the Christian era, Nicholas, Bishop of Myra (part of modern day Turkey), became known as a miracle worker, and as a secret gift giver. Nicholas' reputation grew among the early Christian community and he is venerated as a special protector of children, who was believed to leave gold coins in the shoes of children left "out" in his honor. St. Nicholas was canonized as a saint, nearly by popular acclaim, long before the schism between the Western and Eastern branches of the Catholic tradition. His life is commemorated throughout Europe and much of the world on the date of his death, December 6. In the centuries following his death, it became the custom for children to receive small gifts on St. Nicholas Day. In Dutch and Flemish countries, St. Nicholas is known as "Sinterklaas," and is often pictured riding a beautiful white horse.

For many centuries, the spirits of Odin, St. Nicholas, Sinterklaas and finally Sante Clas existed in many guises and many forms. In the mysterious depth of the forests of the north, fir trees, holly and mistletoe sent forth their spells and enchantments, and Odin added elves, goats and a new bevy of magical, mostly benevolent supernatural beings whose dwelling places were generally hidden from the knowledge of human beings. By the 19th Century, even Odin had made a gentle transition of image and was appearing as an ever evolving version of the secret gift bringer of Wintertide.

Arthur Rackham

In-between Odin and St. Nicholas, there exists a vast assortment of magical, mystical beings who care for an entire menagerie of animals, some of which are enchanted, and some of which are real, flesh and blood beings … There were goats, and gnomes and elves … there were reindeer or caribou, who sometimes flew (I'm so sorry, it must be the influence of the poetc side of Odin), and various forms of transportation and an entire host of wonderful stories and legends to describe them. We can say that the Scandinavian concept of Santa riding a goat is probably a hold over from the stores of the Norse God Thor and his goat drawn chariot. In this engraving, the Julebukk (Yule Goat) is ridden by a very Odin-like figure who is wearing a wreath, and looking very much like the Holly King!

In the countries of Scandinavia, small gnomes or elf-like creatures called nisse live in the forest and country side year round; some of them specialize in caring very tenderly for farm and forest animals, and others live more closely with humans, being sometimes helpful and sometimes not.
Some of the gnomes bring presents to children on Christmas Eve, and look for a bowl of porridge in return!

In America, in the early 1800s, an illustration appeared with a "Dutch" version of "Sante Claus,"

and, as the century progressed, Santa Claus became more and more a "right jolly old elf,"

with the help of Clemete Clarke Moore and "A Vistit From St. Nicholas.

Thomas Nast

Arthur Rackham

Santa Claus, St. Nicholas and Kris Kringle are all names born in the 19th Century to describe a sometimes benevolent super-natural being who was widely known to those who lived in what is now Europe, Russia and parts of the Mediterranian region. In the course of time, he assumed the attributes of a wild, shamanic God of the northern regions and shared the northern forests with many kinds of elves, fairies and gnomes who were also sometimes benevolent and sometimes not. His legend was so prevalent, his identity and benevolence so famous that his reputation blended eventually with that of an early Christian Bishop who became St. Nicholas of Myra. We cannot know how long the belief in beings other than "human" has persisted among people, but we do know that writers and thinkers who have studied the nature of reality and the ways in which human beings have learned to understand it, do accept that in the beginning of human consciousness we perceived ourselves as being "in nature and a part of it." We could see and understand elements of our environment which are no long available to our sense of perception. It is nearly certain that our strongly held convictions about the existence of supernatural beings springs from this lost ability to see all of nature. It is quite likely a kind of "race memory" of a pantheon of gods described since the beginning of language, gives rise to many truths and the many ways of telling about the inhabitants of this planet we're living on. At the end of 2009, with Christmas just past, I must think back to Christmas of 2008, and the bright, sparkling Christmas morning which gave me the inspiration to write the first essay for this blog. The flight of thousands of Canada Geese, rolling over the southern horizon on their way north so caught my heart and my imagination that I was moved to give deeper thought to the meaning of life on the planet as we know it. I'm at a transitional age in both my life and the history of this country - things familiar to me in my childhood, and which had been commonplace to my grandparents are gone now … the land which supported so many, so well, and for so long is disappearing and an entire way of life is gone … not to be reclaimed I fear. And it is not necessarily for the better. "Progress" has not always meant improvement in the day to day lives of those who inhabit the earth, and incredible as it seems, there are those who believe that only the future holds promise or is worth giving thought or time to. … The flight of the Christmas Geese has lead me on a path of rediscovery this past year … and the adventure included the privilege of meeting a family of Canadas and watching as they raised their small brood. So, it was surely not an accident when, as I was pondering the origins and existence of Santa Claus, I found this post card …. it is most surely a message from the aether, Santa Claus and the geese!

"There are those who believe that Santa Claus is real.
But he isn't.
He's Magick!

CHRISTMASTIDE

"For centuries men have kept an appointment with Christmas. Christmas means fellowship, feasting, giving and receiving, a time of good cheer, home." ~W.J. Ronald Tucker

ChristmasTide, MidWinter, Solstice, Yuletide, Twelve Tide - all the names given to various winter feasts, at different times in history. The early Celts believed that winter began with Samhain, or the end of summer. Samhain was a harvest feast but it is likely that winterfests began to mingle with the harvest festivals as the days passed and it became clear that daylight was growing shorter and the wind colder. The perception was that the nature of time itself changed when summer passed. Not only was "time" not behaving properly it was also believed that the veil or space between the worlds was much thinner beginning with the end of summer and there were great possibilities for magic to be worked. But possibilities for misfortune to befall were also much greater due to the ease with which beings moved from time to time and world to world to world. Nearly all cultures believed in small beings, such as elves, fairies, trolls and gnomes, who lived underground, underneath the tree roots or in the deep dark woods of Europe.


In the vast dark forests of the north, where the sharp cold winds came early,the pre-christian Germanic tribes observed the season of Yule leading up to Solstice and Yuletide probably continued well past the time we now consider "Christamas Day."As the hours of darkness increased, the need for fires increased as well, and the abundant bounty of forest firs, holly and mistletoe were brought inside to drape the halls as well, in the belief that their "evergreen" properties of eternal life would encourage the return of the sun to its proper place in the skies.
Medieval Winter celebrations began in the early part of the season, and soon grew to include Twelve Tide, or the Twelve Days of Christmas, up through the time time of Epiphany, or the coming of the Magi … the eastern Calendar moved the Feast of Christmas to the 7 of January, and the season was extended again. In many areas of Europe, Christmas markets sprang up with the blessing of the Church and Carnaval lent its African and Asian traditions and games to the atmosphere of festival and celebration. The "Lord of Misrule" added his antics to the sense that the natural order of things was suspended through out the winter festive season … in the later yearsoif the 19th century puppet shows and mummers parades became popular as well … Wassailing and Caroling became a part of the Yuletide festivies. It was the custom of the "Lord of the Manor" to invite all his serfs and their families into the great hall for feasting, merry-making, and one would imagine, just to stay warm.

"This is Yuletide! Bring the holly boughs, Deck the old mansion with its berries red; Bring in the mistletoe, that lover's vows Be sweetly sealed the while it hangs o'erhead. Pile on the logs, fresh gathered from the wood, And let the firelight dance upon the walls, The while we tell the stories of the good, The brave, the noble, that the past recalls."

The Distant Music of The Hounds

Last weekend, in a little antique shop in Southern Indiana, a customer came to the counter, a treasure in hand to be purchased and wrapped. I took the book from her, and discovered a full edition of Kipling's "Just So Stories." The volume had an illustration of the little elephant child trying to pull his nose away from the crocodile. The picture was one of those emotional triggers with the power to carry a person off to another place and time; in my case, the time machine took me back to a day of gardening I shared with my father. As we pulled new baby carrots from the soft, rich soil of the garden (and I kept breaking the tops off the carrots without taking them from the ground), my father told me the story of how the little elephant got his long trunk.

"In the high and far off times, The Elephant, O Best Beloved, had no trunk."

I was surprised only by the emotional reaction caused by the picture, not the memory itself. Both my parents read to me constantly - my mother introduced me to Tom Sawyer, a chapter a time at bedtime, but my father read any and everything to me that interested him. One of the "stories" that stood out in my mind, but whose title I'd lost, was a piece about "the music of the hounds" which he'd read to me around Christmas time. It was, it turns out, a "comment" first published in The New Yorker on Christmas Eve, 1949.

To set the piece in perspective, in 1949, WWII was a scant four and a half years in the past, and many Americans from the ranks of politicians, businessmen, intellectuals and just plain family folk were debating, speculating on, and trying to plan the future of a newly born world power, the United States of America. Europeans as well were concentrating on plotting the future course of civilization, but nowhere was the sense of immanent possibility so rich and alive as it was in the USA.

My father read this piece to me one evening, as we sat in front of a blazing fireplace - there was no television in those days, so mothers and fathers did actually read to their children and talked about what thoughts they had on the content of the readings. My father liked this piece I believe because his roots were European and he thought a great deal about making the future a good place to live, and I liked the piece because I'd actually been hunting with hounds and the sound of their baying was a beautiful mystic thing which sent shivers down my spine. I'd also heard the short story by Issac Asimov about a robot named "Robbie" who was designed as a nannie and the evolving relationship between him and his "child." I made the connections to this story on two levels because of the things my father had already shared with me, so when my Kipling-tickled- memory found the proper "key words" the article was not difficult to find.

It is now 60 years since E. B. White's "comment" appeared in the December 24, 1949 issue of The New Yorker, but it is still interesting reading - a commentary on how far we have, or have not come, and on the ever-so-much-more commercialized treatment of Christmas and the Yultide Season. I'm not aware if Mr. White is still living, but I can only imagine what his reaction to "Christmas shopping as a patriotic act" statements which issued forth from the horror of 9/11.
Mr. White is correct, our "outward bound tracks" only lead back to Man himself.

Let me share the story with you, now.

The Distant Music of the Hounds
E. B. White

"To perceive Christmas through its wrapping becomes more difficult with every year. There was a little device we noticed in one of the sporting-goods stores—a trumpet that hunters hold to their ears so that they can hear the distant music of the hounds. Something of the sort is needed now to hear the incredibly distant sound of Christmas in these times, through the dark, material woods that surround it. “Silent Night,” canned and distributed in thundering repetition in the department stores, has become one of the greatest of all noisemakers, almost like the rattles and whistles of Election Night. We rode down on an escalator the other morning through the silent-nighting of the loudspeakers, and the man just in front of us was singing, 'I’m gonna wash this store right outta my hair, I’m gonna wash this store...'

The miracle of Christmas is that, like the distant and very musical voice of the hound, it penetrates finally and becomes heard in the heart—over so many years, through so many cheap curtain-raisers. It is not destroyed even by all the arts and craftiness of the destroyers, having an essential simplicity that is everlasting and triumphant, at the end of confusion. We once went out at night with coonhunters and we were aware that it was not so much the promise of the kill that took the men away from their warm homes and sent them through the cold shadowy woods, it was something more human, more mystical—something even simpler. It was the night, and the excitement of the note of the hound, first heard, then not heard. It was the natural world, seen at its best and most haunting, unlit except by stars, impenetrable except to the knowing and the sympathetic.

Christmas in 1949 must compete as never before with the dazzling complexity of man, whose tangential desires and ingenuities have created a world that gives any simple thing the look of obsolescence—as though there were something inherently foolish in what is simple, or natural. The human brain is about to turn certain functions over to an efficient substitute, and we hear of a robot that is now capable of handling the tedious details of psychoanalysis, so that the patient no longer need confide in a living doctor but can take his problems to a machine, which sifts everything and whose “brain” has selective power and the power of imagination. One thing leads to another. The machine that is imaginative will, we don’t doubt, be heir to the ills of the imagination; one can already predict that the machine itself may become sick emotionally, from strain and tension, and be compelled at last to consult a medical man, whether of flesh or of steel. We have tended to assume that the machine and the human brain are in conflict. Now the fear is that they are indistinguishable. Man not only is notably busy himself but insists that the other animals follow his example. A new bee has been bred artificially, busier than the old bee.

So this day and this century proceed toward the absolutes of convenience, of complexity, and of speed, only occasionally holding up the little trumpet (as at Christmastime) to be reminded of the simplicities, and to hear the distant music of the hound. Man’s inventions, directed always onward and upward, have an odd way of leading back to man himself, as a rabbit track in snow leads eventually to the rabbit. It is one of his more endearing qualities that man should think his tracks lead outward, toward something else, instead of back around the hill to where he has already been; and it is one of his persistent ambitions to leave earth entirely and travel by rocket into space, beyond the pull of gravity, and perhaps try another planet, as a pleasant change. He knows that the atomic age is capable of delivering a new package of energy; what he doesn’t know is whether it will prove to be a blessing. This week, many will be reminded that no explosion of atoms generates so hopeful a light as the reflection of a star, seen appreciatively in a pasture pond. It is there we perceive Christmas—and the sheep quiet, and the world waiting."

Solstice

The Magic of the Longest Night ....

Suddenly, the dark and cold are with us ... we have snow, we have overcast skies and when we look at a clock face, we're surprised to learn that it is still afternoon and not well into the evening.
Even though we've been noting the low hanging southern pathway of the Sun's travels across the sky these days, we seem always to be caught by surprise when the darkness comes.

Because we live with artificial lighting it is easy to lose track of the darkening winter days, even when the skies are not overcast. Daytime, or night, if we're urban city dwellers it is difficult to remember to watch the stars because we live encased in concrete and neon. Our northern hemisphere ancestors lived so close to nature that they were often able to take the measure of the seasons and of time by observing the animals and the flora about them ... but there was nothing that was as sure a indicator to point the way as the northern constellations of the night skies.

North Star Poem

Constellations come,
and climb the heavens, and go,
And thou dost see them rise,
Star of the Pole!
and thou dost see them set,
Alone, in thy cold skies,
Thou keep'st thy old unmoving station yet.

Although it is true that the North Star appears never to change its position, it is also true that for those of us who live in the northern hemisphere there are certain circumpolar constellations which never "set" but appear to circle the North Star on a seasonal basis. The constellations are Ursa Major (The Big Bear), Ursa Minor (The Little Bear), Cassiopia, Cepheus, and Draco, the Dragon. The Indians of the North American plains knew that near to the Solstice they could see all of the "sacred constellations" which circled the Pole Star, and believed that the constellations laid out a map or a chart of the locations of the sacred places in the Black Hills of what is now North Dakota. Modern scholars debate the importance of astronomy to the Lakota peoples of America, in spite of the existence of the great Medicine Wheels which are found in the northern planes of the US and further north in Canada. There can be no doubt of the importance of the positions of the stars to European peoples however - and it appears to be true that the great pillars of Stonehenge are placed in patterns which seem to be related to those of the North American medicine wheels. Ancient mound builders erected small mounds to mark the rising of certain seasonal stars in known constellation. Currently, however, some scholars propose that the bitter cold of northern winters "kept people inside at night" and therefore, the winter skies were of little importance.

Northern Circumpolar Constellations

Because I grew up on the Mid-Western plains in a family of farmers, and hunters who were blessed with native American ancestors, it is very difficult for me to imagine that either the Northern Plains Indians or my Northern European Ancestors were kept "inside at night," by the cold and knew nothing of the Winter Skies. I have no scientific basis for my belief that Northern Plains Indians understood the mapping of the night time winter skies, but my experience of winter nights in the Rocky Mountains tells me that the beauty and mystery of those deep, endless skies is too great not to have drawn my ancient ancestors outside into the cold darkness to look up and wonder ... and to learn to look for those signposts that are set to guide all of us the way home, and the way through the seasons. Many of my friends have spoken recently of an instinctive sense of the mystic properties of fire which they seem to be discovering. The same intuitive curiosity or "race memory" is what draws us to wonder about the blackness of those unending night time skies, and it has always been so - the same memory, so dim in some of us now, is the instinctive need that pulled our ancestors out side their lodges to gaze up into the glittering skies of the longest night.

If you are blessed to live in an area where you can still see the night skies, on this most magical of all nights go outside, into the beautiful cold dark of the Solstice, and look up. Look straight up. If the view is good, and there is not a great deal of interference from the appliances of civilization, you will see the "circle" of the Polar Constellations. Then, light a fire - even if it is just a candle, and drink a toast to our ancestors.

(courtesy of "Candle Grove" Website)

Through the longest night, rings out the song,

"Praise be to the distant Sister Sun,

joyful as the silver planets run."
Solstice Bells, Jethro Tull

From the coldest places of the frozen north, to the milder climes of the Northern Hemisphere, fires burn, halls are decked, dancing and feasting continue, all in the hope and the faith that the
"distant Sister Sun" will return, even as the silver planets revolve in their appointed orbits ... and faithful to her Children the Mother does appear. In many ways, in many places, even now, we
are aware of the promise of the Sun.

A Nast Santa watches for the sunrise from his North Pole Balcony

A character from Justin Thomas "Mythticklers" welcomes the sun following the Long Winter Night

DEEP IN DECEMBER

TO DRIVE THE COLD WINTER AWAY

All hayle to the days that merit more praise than all the rest of the year,
& Welcome the nights that double delights as well for the poor as the peer.
Good fortune attend each merry man's friend that doth but the best that he may

This time of the yeare is spent in good cheare, kind neighbours together to meet
To sit by the fire, with friendly desire each other in love to greet:
Old grudges forgot are put in a pot, all sorrows aside they lay'
The old and the young doth carrol this Song, to drive the cold winter away.

To maske and to mum kind neighbours will come with Wassels of nut-browne Ale
To drinke and carouse to all in this house, as merry as buck in the pale;
Where cake, bread and cheese, is brought for yr fees to make you the longer stay,
The fire to warme will do you no harme, to drive the cold winter away.

When Christmas tide comes in like a Bride, with Holly and Ivy clad, --
Twelve dayes in the yeare much mirth and good cheare in every household is had
The countrey guise is then to devise some gambols of Christmas play,
Whereas the yong men do best that they can to drive the cold winter away.

from the Roxburghe Collection

Suddenly Time, as it always does in December, lets us know that it has played its annual trick on us ... while we were thinking of other things, other days, other times, it has passed on its merry way and we're here with just a few days until the Solstice ... I've been thinking of the Old Ways when Yule was celebrated as the Solstice, and pondering the gradual transformation into Yuletide and Christmas .... it is almost mind-boggling to try and comprehend how we, in the northern hemisphere have passed through all these centuries from the time of a fire celebration designed to drive the cold winter away, into the riot of lights, music, noise, gift-giving, commercialization and frenzied spending that Christmas has become ....

The Time Which Is Not Time - December Days

It is a cold day, going into a cold evening with a colder night to come. The last day of November was gloomy with dark, but somehow comforting snow clouds hanging in the gray sky. We're into Advent Season on the Christian Calender, the Solstice is fast approaching and the moon is nearly full. The urge to go to ground and hibernate is nearly overwhelming!

"Hiver"

"Winter Moon"

The Season of Advent

The Christian observance of Advent marks the beginning of the liturgical year in Protestant and Catholic Churches of the Western Tradition. Advent is a four week period of preparation and contemplation leading up to Christmas Day and the celebration of the Birth of Christ. The observance is currently celebrated widely in both Protestant and Catholic congregations and recognizes a special liturgy with the use of an Advent wreath and the lighting of candles each week until Christmas Eve when the season of Advent ends.

Advent calendars, which are popular the world over, are yet another Christmas custom which find their origins in Germany. The first printed calendars were made by Gerhard Lang who reproduced the kind of calendar his mother had made for him when he was a child. These early calendars had candles and sometimes candy, which could be removed daily as the days until Christmas were impatiently counted. Later calendars were printed with numbered windows which could be opened each day to reveal a new picture or symbol related to the season. The earliest calendars were produced in religious themes,

but following World War II calendars were produced which depicted secular themes and illustrations of the Christmas season.


Yule, Solstice and Ancient Traditions


Less than a week ago, my backyard and the surrounding countryside offered up a crisp, but temperate, sunny December day filled with small enchantments. The backyard bustled with the delightful antics of gray squirrels scampering about on the ground busily gathering up whatever it is that gray squirrels find to stuff into their cheeks. There were cotton-tail rabbits hopping about eating the still abundant green growth which covered the ground, and the bushes were full of brilliant red Cardinals eating berries just as red and brilliant as their own feathers. Later, as I rode across the sunny country-side, a herd of ten or twelve white tailed deer were working their way across the stubble of a just picked cornfield, nibbling on the left-behind ears of corn and fodder. True to the ancient rules of the harvest, what was left after the end of October belong ed to the Mother's children.

This morning, a scant four December days later, the wind rattles bushes and trees as it swirls falling snow, the ground has a substantial covering of white powder, and the sky is a uniform milky gray overcast which offers no immediate promise of sunshine

"Bunny Den"

The sudden change from the warm sunny days of post harvest, to the cold inhospitable winds of winter makes a person think of the ancient tribes of the great northern forests and what they must have felt when the short, dark days of winter finally enclosed them in their lodges and tents ... Many primitive northern hemisphere tribes (including American Indians) fashioned wreaths of evergreen to symbolize the eternal circle of the seasons, and the cyclical, eternal nature of life. A reminder that the earth would turn back to the season of light, and that time, even though it did not behave normally during the season of darkness, was still working to return light, warmth and springtime to the land. A promise of sorts, that even if the sun left, it would come again with the turn of the earth's wheel. In the Scandinavian countries of the very far north, the sun did completely disappear for many days. "Watchers" would be sent to catch the first glimpse of the return of the sun, and great fires would be lit to signal its rising. In some places, huge bundled wheels of branches were set afire and rolled down hills to herald the return of the sun. The tradition of a ring of fire existed among the Germanic tribes and candles were lit on wreaths to number the days until

the return of the light at Solstice and the celebration of Julfest. A person thinks especially of the tribes who lived in the tall dense forests of Northern Europe - forests so deep, dark and foreboding that they stopped even the advancing legions of the Roman Empire. What must it have been like to suddenly face the cold, mysterious darkness of unyielding winter in those endless forests? Were they truly frightening and inhospitable, or did they offer refuge and safety to those who knew and respected them? The solution for the ever darkening days of winter was to light fires, and enjoy celebratory feasting and dancing! Evergreen boughs, holly and mistletoe were used to decorate large dining halls and small cottages alike and served as "fire starters" to help light new fires. All of the sacred "evergreens" were believed to have eternal life and sending their spirit into the smoke would encourage the Sun to return to its appointed place in the sky. It is believed that the "Yule Tree" came into favor at this time as well. The Yule Log itself was burned to bring luck and good fortune to the house, and a small part of it would be saved to light next year's log. Embers from the Yule fire might be carried off to the fireplaces of each home to restart the new year's fire. The slaughter and preparation of a prize boar was another Yule custom which has continued into modern times, and is the basis for our tradition of "Christmas Ham." Conversion to Christianity came late to these proud and warlike Germanic peoples and it was far easier to superimpose a Christian reinterpretation for their seasonal feasts than to attempt to suppress them.

"Bringing in the Yule Log"

I have news for you;
The stag bells, winter snows, summer has gone.
Wind high and cold, the sun low, short its course
The sea running high.
Deep red the bracken, its shape is lost.
The wild goose has raised its accustomed cry,
Cold has seized the birds' wings.
Season of ice; this is my news.

9th Century Irish Poem