Spiritual Synthesis

The symbols surrounded me as a child. They came in many shapes; specific ornaments on the Christmas tree, uniquely shaped cookie cutters, and of course the two Dala horses. As a very young kid, I didn’t really think much about their cultural significance. They just were. I didn’t ask probing questions or demand explanations as to the origins of certain items in our home. I wish now that I had. 

My grandparents emigrated to this country from Sweden. I never knew my grandfather on my mother’s side (or on my father’s side, for that matter) as he had died quite some time before I was born. However, I do have warm memories of my Swedish grandmother. The fact that she was originally from Sweden really never registered with me during my childhood, but I always used to smile at her quirky pronunciation of my name: “Yeffy.” I guess her Swedish accent turned j’s into y’s. I always knew it was her on the phone when she would say something like “Hello, Yeffy! Is Yoanne there? Or Yerry?” You can probably determine my parents’ names from that. 

My mother never spoke of her Swedish heritage. One day about two decades ago, when my daughter was very young, we visited my parents for a week or so, and my daughter brought along her Dala horse pajamas. The Dala horse is a traditional carved and painted statue of a horse originating from the Swedish province of Dalarna. When my mother saw those pajamas, her eyes lit up and she seemed really excited that my daughter was honoring that aspect of her heritage. After my daughter had gone to bed, I asked my mother why it was that she had never shared more of her Swedish heritage with me when I was growing up. She said that it had been at my grandmother’s insistence. They had come over from Sweden, yes, but they were Americans now, and all Swedish customs and practices needed to be for some reason suppressed in deference to their new identities as American citizens. Fortunately, the Dala horses, a blue one and a smaller black one, survived the purge, and they somehow found their way into my possession, though I can’t remember exactly when or why. I wish I knew more about the stories behind them, and that more had been shared with me regarding that aspect of my heritage. 

Our spiritualities are fluid, ever-evolving aspects of who we are. Think of them as…tapestries, perhaps, with the different beliefs or belief systems that speak to us forming the threads of those tapestries. Our beliefs take shape over the course of our lives, influenced by a variety of teachings and examples, sometimes undergoing significant transformations when some experience, reading, or other event triggers an epiphany of significant enough force. I have, over the course of my lifelong spiritual odyssey, identified as a Presbyterian (well, my parents had more influence over that one than I did), Unitarian, Irish/Celtic enthusiast, Roman Stoic, and, of course, a Spiritual Naturalist.

If I had to classify my spiritual leanings today, though the Spiritual Naturalist and Unitarian influences will always have a special hold over parts of my spirit, I now view myself primarily as a Romano-Celtic/Norse Philosophy and Lore Adherent–if that is allowed to be a thing.  I’m not much for existing labels. So just what in the name of Odin All-Father is that? Well, it’s the fusion–or synthesis–of the philosophies that have most inspired me on the journey. I have never been able to easily label myself or place myself in specific philosophical camps, as there are so many different traditions that offer meaningful teachings and philosophies, and I find great wisdom in these three traditions in particular–ancient Celtic/Irish, ancient Roman, and ancient Norse/Viking. First, a brief recap of my journey. 

As a child, my parents sent me to Presbyterian Sunday school, or really it was more of a one week Bible day camp.  I really didn’t understand why, and my compulsory attendance was never explained. It’s not like they were church going folk–at all. Ever. I was not one to ask a lot of questions as a kid; I just went with the flow, doing what I was told to do because my parents asked me to, and I trusted them. A few months after that camp, I asked my father why it was that we didn’t go to church on a regular basis. I mean, they had sent me to Presbyterian Bible camp for a week, so were we not Presbyterians then? If so, why didn’t we go to the Presbyterian church on Sundays? My cousins were Catholics, and went every Sunday. They even went to church services on Christmas Eve! I remember having to wait for our Christmas Eve festivities to start until my cousins got back from the service at their church, never understanding why, of all days, they had to pick THAT one to go to church! Didn’t they realize how inconvenient, if not thoughtless, that was to the rest of the family? I had literally no clue.

So, what did my dad say in response to my church attendance question? He said, “You want to go to church? Okay, we’ll go to church.” So we did–for all of one Sunday. I sat there, not sure what was going on, singing hymns that didn’t mean anything to me when everyone else sang them. When the service was over, we walked out and my dad put his hand on my shoulder and said, “There. Do you feel holier now?” I never forgot that, nor the somewhat contemptuous tone with which the statement was delivered. 

Some years later, I had the courage to ask him about that day. He just said, “Your mother and I sent you to that church camp to introduce you to God. The rest is up to you to figure out.” I then asked him if he ever wanted to go to church, Presbyterian or otherwise. “When I go outside, I am in church,” he said. That was the last spirituality conversation I ever had with one of my parents. That was probably 40 years ago now. I have been working to “figure it out” ever since. 

I  started attending the local Unitarian church in 1994 at the behest of my fiancée. The Unitarians allowed for a lot of leeway in your own “individual search for truth and meaning,” not prescribing exactly what members had to believe or how. That was refreshing. I remain in that church’s membership book to this day, though COVID impacted our involvement there, and it hasn’t really fully recovered. Spiritual evolution changes minds. 

I have always been drawn to ancient Celtic mythology and Celtic spiritual systems and practices. My father’s ancestry stems from England, and I have been to both England and Ireland on two occasions thanks to my wife having family there. Something about those ancient traditions speaks to me, and I was profoundly moved by visits to ancient Irish and English sites, such as Newgrange and Stonehenge. I read every myth, legend, and tradition of ancient England and Ireland I could get my hands on; there is a statue of Cuchulainn, the Irish Achilles, on my nightstand; I have absorbed every version of the King Arthur legend I have found. I have immersed myself in Druidic lore and Celtic bard traditions, even obtaining (yet still learning to play) a Celtic lap harp. Above all, it is the stories from those traditions that have helped me put modern challenges into perspective. Celtic/Irish lore–one thread in the tapestry of my current spiritual synthesis. 

It was a former student who first introduced me to The Meditations of Marcus Aurelius, and I subsequently dove into ancient Greek and Roman Stoic traditions. The works of Seneca and Epictetus supplemented The Meditations, and I have at least one of their works on my nightstand at all times (yep, the nightstand is a busy zone). Deep immersion into all things ancient Rome followed, mostly along the lines of historical fiction centered around the pivotal era of transformation from Republic to Principate. Biographies of major Roman historical figures followed, with special emphasis being placed on Marcus Cicero and his oratorical prowess, as the skills related to public speaking is a major interest of mine as a teacher and sometime motivational speaker. With the Romans, it always came back to philosophy and other fascinating practices of that deeply spiritual (though brutal by many modern standards) civilization that formed the foundations of so many of our own modern systems and  institutions. Roman philosophy and history–yet another thread.

The most recent spiritual immersion/knowledge quest is centered on ancient Scandinavian lore and culture. I cannot speak to why it took me so long to do a deep dive into the traditions that form such a fundamental aspect of my blood heritage.  It was always there, hovering in the background, and something recently clicked that activated that quasi-dormant Viking gene and brought it to the forefront of my ongoing spiritual journey. Maybe it was finding the Dala horses again in a storage cabinet recently that tipped the balance and caused that ancient blood to assert itself in me. It is a new tradition and set of stories that still feels familiar but offers enough novelty and symbolism to engage my imagination. Many aspects of the Norse mythological canon resonate with my current beliefs, such as the more animistic philosophies positing that everything has a spirit or a lifeforce, from animals to stones, and all should be respected. I am a relative newbie at this, and could not yet begin to articulate how it has and will impact the tapestry I am weaving. Attending Wagner’s “The Ring” cycle at the behest of my opera-loving wife and watching Marvel movies about Thor is all that I have to go on as the journey begins…pretty thin foundations there. However, I have more than a few texts and sagas on the way from the library, and I can’t wait to really dive into this side of my ancestral background. So, Norse/Viking/Swedish Sagas and mythology–the newest thread. 

For me, ancient gods or non-human entities such as fairies, nymphs, or Valkyries featured in Celtic, Roman, or Norse traditions are but symbols; I have no belief in their literal, physical existence at this time. I don’t pray to them expecting them to hear me, as I don’t feel there is really anyone out there listening for that (though I do meditate on the ideas their stories raise, surrounding myself with and even wearing their symbols). Now, I am always open to the possibility that I may be totally wrong there–I just need the evidence to present itself, and then I’m all in. For now, it is the lessons drawn from their stories that I value. For the experiences from any tradition to deeply resonate with us and be seen as practically applicable to our lives, they are best couched in story form that gives the lessons context. I don’t expect my spirit to be whisked away to Elysium or Valhalla when my life here draws to a close, as comforting as such a belief would be. I am more concerned with how the stories and traditions of our ancestors with whom we share a blood, mind, or spirit connection can help us to lead the best lives possible in the here and now, and work with others to create the best world we can for all of us. It is this life, not a supposed afterlife, that concerns me.

We can learn from the exploits of human protagonists and their non-human mentors or adversaries from all mythological and spiritual traditions and apply the lessons learned from those interactions to our own modern challenges to help us weather the storms that confront us today. That, for me, is the real purpose of spirituality–to learn, to grow, to seek knowledge, and to work to make ourselves the best people we can be while simultaneously striving to make this world as peaceful and just a place as we collectively can. When we have learned all we can, worked as hard as we can, and owe no more to the future, we can hand the world to our posterity, hopefully in a better state than it was in when it was handed to us, and hope we have armed them with the knowledge and inspiration to take it even further. That would be a life well lived. 

What I hope any reader perusing these words takes away from this is the desire to continue the journey to improve and enrich yourself. Continue weaving your tapestry, and synthesizing your spirit. Open your mind to the wisdom to be found in any tradition that speaks to you. Honor the traditions of your direct descendancy, as well as any others that align with your current values and that help you to grow and improve the lives of those with whom you interact. Just don’t let the journey end, thinking you have found the ultimate truth and that no other tradition has anything left to offer you. When you come across a story, philosophy, tradition, or practice that speaks to your heart and mind, absorb it into the tapestry that is your spiritual self, and let the synthesis take its shape.  “Trust those that seek the truth, but doubt those who have found it,” Andre Gide once said. Keep seeking it. Let it grow and evolve within you as you navigate your way through the adventure of your life, using every scrap of wisdom you have the time and opportunity to obtain. Most of all, enjoy the journey. 

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