Part of the Soul

Anglo-Saxon
The modern concept of a soul as being a singular spiritual aspect of a person is not the way that these things were conceived of in ancient Anglo-Saxon society. For those ancient heathens, the soul was multi-faceted, made up of many different parts; each of those parts carried its own function. While no universal list of parts of a soul has persisted from Anglo-Saxon society, there are inklings of this which remain in ancient literature and within the language itself.

In a sense, the soul functioned differently based on what a person was doing or the circumstances of their being. In our everyday lives, this subject has bearing but not to the extent that it would alter things. In this way, we typically conceive of the soul in terms of our being in the moment. However there is much more going on in the terms of the Anglo-Saxon beliefs. Your very consciousness is wrapped up with your soul, your memories, your conscience, and yes your body too. From this idea, we will work from the seen and unseen outside inward.

The Lic:

What is the spirit without the body? What is the body without spirit? The two are necessary for one another to together create the being we are familiar with. On this level, the Lic is the body, the physical body.

The Ealdor (Æþm):

The Ealdor, or Æþm, is essentially the breath of life. Seeing as how your body remains living when your spirit fares forth, it can be surmised that the Ealdor remains with the Lic under the circumstance of dreaming and faring forth. Yet upon death, this aspect of a person’s soul leaves and is disconnected from their being. This ultimately connects it to and separates it from the Lic. It is an aspect of the Lic because the Lic cannot live without it; it separates from the Lic upon death.

The Hama:

The Hama is a bit tougher to get into and somewhat contentious. Hama means a natural covering, a membrane, like the skin shed off of a snake. Yet this meaning does not do the word justice in a spiritual sense.

The Norse connection would be with the cognate Hamr. Within Norse literature we see examples of this concept through the “Hamför” or a journey outside of oneself and in the Havamal Odin claims to know spells to keep witches from returning to their “heim hama” or home skin. Essentially, the Hama is that which is spiritually surrounding us in a covering. Yet there is some contention due to one aspect – does the hama leave with the person during the Hamför or is it a trip away from the Hama? The concept of “heim hama” shows us that the Hama was seen as remaining behind when a person’s Ferþ leaves their Lic because the spells Odin speaks of would prevent a person from returning to their Hama. Lingistics also helps in this regard; the snake sheds its skin (Hama) and leaves. So too does the person leave their Hama behind during the Hamför. To complicate the matter, one has a shape within themselves which can change its shape while faring forth called the Hiw. The Hiw is likely an aspect of the Hama, the internal aspect almost like an imprinted shape of it. Yet the Hama itself is also internally connected as an aspect of the spirit and can impact the person.

An example of this is babies; babies grow within a hama, within a membrane. Yet some babies are born with a caul, a membrane which remains over their head during and after birth. This caul was widely considered a sign of luck for hundreds of years back across Europe. Beliefs surrounding this persisted to modern times because I remember my own grandmother remarking that my grandfather was not only lucky but also prescient due to being born with a caul. The caul is likely a manifestation of an aspect of the Hama and it somehow influences a person’s luck and abilities. In each of these usages we get closer to a spiritual idea of a hama.

It is my belief that the truth about the Hama lies somewhere in between these things. The Hama is yes, left behind, but material exists to say that it also has something to do with the journey itself. To reconcile this, it is likely that the Hama plays a role in connecting the person to their Lic so they may return properly.

If the Hama impacts a person throughout their life, what happens to it after death? It is possible that the Hama remains after a soul’s passing and that it may then form the basis for hauntings. This could also account for the split destination for a person’s spirit being alternatively the mound or the afterlife.

The Hiw:

While it is commonly considered within Norse heathenry that the Hamr is being used to shapeshift, in Anglo-Saxon the term for the shape which changes is called the Hiw while the Hama is that which is left behind. Shapeshifting as a concept was not unknown in Anglo-Saxon sources because the idea persisted in folktales as well as through such concepts as the Werewulf. This could be an external shift, but most likely applies to the same kind of spiritual shifting as is seen accomplished by Odin. In the Yngling Saga it is given most clearly in that Odin lies as if dead or asleep while his spirit fares forth and changes its shape at will. This shifting of the spiritual shape is known to the Anglo-Saxons as “hiwung”. The Hiw, rather than being a distinct part of the soul, is likely just the shape the Ferþ takes outside of the Hama and Lic or an extension of the Hama outside of the Lic. Given the connection with the Hama, it could be that the Hiw naturally takes the shape of the Hama it is connected with but that it is malleable in ways that the Hama is not.

The Ferþ (alternatively, the Mod):

The Ferþ (also spelled Ferhþ, Feorþ, Færþ) can be translated as the spirit or soul and this is the part of us which is most akin to what we think of when we think “soul”. However, this aspect of ourselves is itself composed of other parts. Furthermore, this is not the only term for this particular aspect of oneself. The Mod and the Ferþ are both synonymous terms for the spirit, the inner self. The Ferþ includes the Hyge and the Myne.

The Hyge:

The Hyge is the thinking, considering, and judging part of the mind. It is our mental capacity for thought. It is also the conscience, the part of us telling us to do or not to do something. It can further be translated as the heart because it is with the Hyge that the ancient heathens believed bravery and courage resided. The Hyge is a part of the Ferþ, the inner self. The Norse connection here is to Huginn, Odin’s raven that represents thought. However, the thinking here in this case is not mere thought because our modern words and understandings have shifted since that point. Thinking in this case is deeper, it is deciding as well.

The Myne:

The Myne is the memories of a person and their ability to recall them. It is a further part of the Ferþ. The obvious Norse connection here is with Munin, Odin’s raven that represents memory. While we had to divorce our modern thinking from the ancient when it came to the Hyge, the Myne is much closer to the modern idea of memory without any major overhaul.

Folgere (m) or Fylgestre (f):

In Norse literature we find the Fylgja, a spirit attached to oneself but not of oneself. This spirit is typically seen as a sort of protective guardian. While not specifically attested in Anglo-Saxon literature by that name, the cognates for the concept of a Fylgja in Old English would be Folgere (masculine) and Fylgestre (feminine); the term means follower. These have been attested often enough in Norse literature and are often spoken of within modern heathenry to warrant including at least as a brief mention. They are not a part of the soul, but instead appear to be an external kind of spiritual protection.

How this relates to you:

It is not likely to keep you awake at night wondering on the multifaceted nature of the soul. Our conscious minds are far too concerned with other matters usually. In this way, we are likely to think of ourselves in the awakened state in much the same way as this drawing. The Lic is us, we are the Lic, and the Hama could then be thought of as surrounding us in much the same way that some other beliefs have considered an “aura”. Yet if we stop there, we miss the entire point of this.

Parts of self awake

When we sleep and dream, when we go deep into our own thoughts, where do we go to? It is both a religious and philosophical question. However, one thing is absolutely certain. The Anglo-Saxons believed that dreams came from outside oneself. You only need peruse the medico-magical charms of the Anglo-Saxons to see and understand that for their beliefs dreams were external and carried weight and importance. Many charms exist for preventing malicious attacks of various natural and supernatural forces on sleep. One could become æfsiden, come under the spell of witches or even have dweorgas or a Mære attack a person. The Anglo-Saxons also believed in the concept of spiritual travel and even spiritual transformation as can be seen with the idea of the hiwung. This term as well as plenty of lore shows the idea of faring forth outside of oneself – be that in dreams or in other practices. So if people can leave their body, what goes and what stays?

parts of self faring forth

In this diagram we get into the basics a spirit faring forth as best as can be reckoned by my understanding. There is too much lore in Norse sources to discount the Hama being somehow linked to the spirit faring forth. Yet the linguistic link points more to it being left behind, especially at death. The common point could be that the Hama stretches between the two and this could be somewhat supported by the Havamal when Odin tells of a spell to befuddle witches out of returning to their heim-hama. The implication being that return would otherwise be automatic unless tampered with. The further aspect to this is that tampering with the process of faring forth is indeed possible which makes it dangerous. The writing also says the spell could keep them from their heim-huga or proper mind, which I would interpret as being the mind of the person they were before faring forth, their original sensibilities. If your Hyge can be tampered with and your Hama can be lost to you, the prospect of faring forth could be dangerous indeed.

There are aspects that show one could also willingly or unwillingly split their Hyge from themselves as well and lay it upon another. While this could be metaphorical of your thoughts dwelling on another, it likely should be taken more seriously.

Parts of the soul after death

Very likely the most influential and important time that this subject becomes important is upon death. Upon death the Ealdor leaves the body. At some point, the Ferþ leaves the body as well. The Ferþ likely doesn’t leave immediately because otherwise what would the point of grave goods be? The Anglo-Saxons gave grave goods of a votive and literal sense. Gifts of transportation such as a horse or a boat are key to this particular aspect because why would it matter unless some kind of journey is implied in the afterlife. Why would a person be given grave goods at all if their spirit would find no benefit of them after death? Because of this, I believe that the Ferþ waits at least until burial before they travel to the afterlife.

The Hiw and the Hama provide a point of interest. The Hiw could be a part of the Hama or simply the shape of the Ferþ, either way it is unlikely that the Ferþ would be shapeless after death so the Hiw continues on. However, the Hama is sloughed off and left behind when the Ferþ leaves. This distinctly spiritual part of a person lacks its memory and its personality; it is a shell of its former self. Yet it is also a part of the person. It almost certainly retains their form – having held the form for so long why should that change? However, deprived of Hyge and Myne, the Hama spirit is now unknowing.

There is a unique aspect to heathen belief – the ancient heathens held an afterlife in a different world in their beliefs as well as an afterlife in the mound. How can they have it both ways? The Hama remains tied to the person’s physical remains while the Ferþ travels to the afterlife. This would go a long way to explaining how elves and wights were seen to have been ancestors – if the Hama forgets who it is, what is to stop it from becoming a wight or an elf? It would be semi-human, somewhat recognizable, but in many ways inhuman. This could easily explain the often confused nature of how ghosts and spirits tend to be described. It would also explain what reasoning there might be to visit a grave and talk to or offer at the grave itself – to perhaps remind the spirit who they were and to ease them.

This is what is meant by a multi-part soul. The heathen will end up in more than one location as part of their afterlife. Their Hama will be bound to this earth while their Ferþ journeys to the afterlife.

Heading text
(Masculine Noun) meaning ‘a membrane’, ‘skin’, ‘a covering’ cognate with Old Norse Hamr. In the Norse Sagas, Hama appears as an emanating energy, ones inner ‘shape’ projected outward. It is essentially the true form of a man that can leave the body and travel. This spiritual travel/ astral projection was known in ON as Hamfor ‘The journey of the hamr’ and can be reconstructed into Old English as ‘*hamafōr’.

The hama typically took on the appearance of an animal to those with second sight. The hama existed in our realm, tethered to the human body, while simultaneously existing in the Spirit Realm. Saying ones name during trance could result in the hama abruptly returning to its corporeal body.

“[Lodmund] commanded that no one should have the audacity to utter his name- because his inner shape would be leaving him to fulfill his desire.” –Ibid

There are certain risks associated with hamafōr. The hama can become trapped in the Otherworld, unable to return to its body. In Hávamál, Wōden speaks of a charm able to prevent witches from returning to their skins.

“If I see witches Riding through the air, I cast a spell So they get lost Without finding their skin again Without finding their spirit again”

Ones hama could grow or wane depending on specific events. In Hauksbók, Odd kills and eats a bear which ate his father and brother, thus absorbing the collected vigour from all three.

“Subsequently, Odd became wicked and a hard person to deal with. His power to shapeshift was so strong that one evening he left his home in Hraunhofn and reached Thjorsardal the following morning- a distance of two hundred fifty miles!- to aid his sister, whom the folk of Thjorsardal wanted to stone to death for sorcery and magic.”

In The Return of the Dead, Claude Lecouteux theorizes that the hama is man’s vital essence and is the part of the being which lingers in the mound post-death. Even the smallest portion of human matter can contain this hama and there are stories of hauntings continuing when ashes are eaten by a foraging animal, echoing the above mentioned tale of Odd and the bear.

The Hyge (ON: Hugr, Gothic: Hugs, OHG: Hugu, OLF: Heug, Old Saxon: Hugi), translates to ‘thought,’ ‘mind,’ ‘mood,’ ‘desire,’ or ‘inclination.’ Essentially, it is the cognition, the intellect and base desires of the self. Those elements that we might deem as our ‘personality’ in a modern context.

The Hyge is very much an “active force,” which in Old Norse texts compels individuals to action. The act of thinking in Old Norse is expressed as “making ones hugr run,” while wooing someone can be expressed as “placing ones hugr on someone else.”

The Hyge also mirrors the Hama in some ways, as it too is able to leave the body and achieve ones base desires. It should be noted that the parts of the self are not wholly disconnected things, but instead constitute a mechanism which acts as a part of the cohesive whole- hence the overlap and vagueness that is encountered when researching the multi-part soul.

Gaul
The concept of a ‘soul’ has been a much debated and extrapolated topic within the varied Indo-European polytheistic efforts. This follows that there is plenty to draw from and yet plenty that can confuse in regards to such a concept. To extrapolate a ‘Belgic’ soul, both Germanic and Celtic schools of thought must be examined, along with comparative Indo-European cultures such as Greek, Roman, and Indian.

To start, we may look at how Druidic classes/schools were displayed in thinking of the soul. Brunaux, in his synthesis Les Druides: Des philosophies chez les Barb[1], summarizes it as thus:

“In Gaul, specifically, these theories had been developed, through the study and teaching of the druids, to a point that they had little to desire from what was known in Greece. We have little direct attestation of the concepts the druids had about souls, since they themselves have not left any writings and such considerations hardly interested their foreign observers. Posidonius however had noted two characteristics conveyed to us by Caesar (“Souls do not perish after death”) and Diodorus Siculus (“Souls are indestructible”). In other words, they were conceived as immortal. The belief in transmigration of the souls compels us to conclude that, for them, the soul was also endowed with a particular ability to move.“

This means that at least one concept of the soul had a quality of immortality/indestructibility to it, a quality shared with the concept of Atman[2] in Hinduism. But even though we know that there was a soul, and it was immortal/indestructible in one school of thought, how was the soul conceptualized?

For this we can look at the idea of Atman itself linguistically and compare it to attested words in the Gaulish language and even Germanic languages. Sanskrit आत्मन् (Ātmán) would give us multiple connotations[3], but one that concerns us firstly is the one of ‘breath’. The two words we can see are anatiâ (soul)[4] and anatlâ (breath)[5].

Both Matasovic and Delamarre agree that anatiâ is related to breath, but Matasovic insists that both Insular Celtic branches receive their words of ‘soul’ from Latin Animus, stating on his entry of *Anamon (soul) that ‘in both branches of Insular Celtic, the reflexes of this PCelt. etymon were influenced by Lat. anima.’ and in the entry of *anatlā, ‘anatlā presupposes PIE <*h2enh1-tlo-, while Lat. animus and Gr. anemos come from < *h2enh1-mo-.’ While the linguistic changes seem minimal, it can be speculated that Latin influence did permeate theological ideas of the soul during Romano-British and Gallo-Roman eras.

Though it may be odd to transition fast from Latin influence to Greek, the idea of the Roman soul is harder to pin down. For this, we will assume that the Hellenic version of the soul was similar to the Roman version. This works in our favor and we can kill two birds with one stone as well since Greek cultures and Gaulish cultures did participate in cultural exchanges and trade.

According to Klaytonus Silvanus of the Hellenic Faith blog, the Greek version of the human soul is a bi-part soul (the rational soul and irrational soul, woven into each other) which is able to be analyzed in a triad; Ousia (Essense, Substance), Dunamis (Power) and Energeia (Activity). The Ousia of a being/soul is it’s most fundamental self, what it is made of. The Dunamis is what the soul can do (examples: Growth, imagination, perception, opinion, thought that moves the body, desire for good and evil, intellection, memory etc). Energeia is the power in action.

(To simplify it, Klatytonus himself gave me the example: I am me. I can punch someone. What am I doing? Punching.)

The rational soul is created by the Celestial Demiurge and is immortal, where the gods underneath create the irrational soul (the shade in Greek religion). Upon death, the rational soul will either be reincarnated or brought into unison with the world soul, where as the irrational soul would either go to Tartarus for purification or become a shade and dwell in Hades realm or Elysium.

When Henosis occurs, the cycle of rebirth for the rational soul ends and irrational soul takes permanent residence in Hades realm .The shade in Greek religion would be what is attributed to their version of ancestor cultus, as the cognizance of the shade doesn’t appear until it is gifted offerings. The rational soul upon Henosis still engages with the world but also the greater whole of the cosmos, and can also be venerated.[6].

The Germanic version of the soul is thought to be universally multipart. The most complete extrapolation comes from the Anglo Saxon Heathenry blog Wind in the Worldtree, therefore we will use it for comparative purposes.

The parts: The Lic (body), Ealdor/Æþm (breath of life), Hama (membrane/skin), Hiw, and the Ferþ/Mod (inner self which is composed of Huge (thought) and Myne (memory)).

To quickly summarize the idea: The Lic is what houses the spirit/soul. The Ealdor/Æþm is connected to the Lic and the other parts of being, which upon separation/death leaves the Lic lifeless. The Hama is what spiritually and yet physically surrounds the Lic, and can also be thought of as connecting a person to their Lic. The Hama is what also can be thought as what remains in the gravemound or afterlife (which may form the basis for hauntings according to the blog’s author).

The Hiw, according to the author, is the shape the Ferþ/Mod takes outside of the Hama and Lic or is an extension of the Hama outside the Lic, which allows for it to be malleable and shapeshift. Hyge is the portion of the Ferþ/Mod which is the thinking and deciding portion where bravery and courage resides, where as Myne is explained as the memories of a person and the ability to recall them[7]. The conclusion of the extrapolation is similar to the Greek concept in that portions of the soul journey to different afterlives upon death, though are different in where those locations are.

To back track to Hinduism, there is a similar concept to the multipart self we see in the previous cultural expressions. These are the five coverings (Koshas) that represent ‘being’; Annamayokosha (physical/material body), Pranamayakosha (energy, vital force), Manomayakosha (mental-rational section), Vijnanamayakosha (wisdom), and Anadamayakosha (Bliss). These all surround the core of being ‘Ātmán’ (as stated above)[8][9].

As we can see, the idea of a multi-part being/soul is historically precedented, and with that we can extrapolate one for Senobessus Bolgon.

Hindu	Five layers around the soul/self. Greek	No layers except the material body. Germanic	Arguably at least three layers around the soul/self.

If we do a comparison then with the Hindu layers and Germanic (specifically Anglo-Saxon) parts and layers:

Hindu	Body: Annamaya	Energy/Air: Pranamaya	Mental Function:Manomaya	Wisdom:Vijnanmaya	Bliss:Anadamaya	Self: Ātmán Anglo-Saxon	Body: Lic	Energy/Air: Æþm	Mental Function: Hyge 	Wisdom: Myne	Bliss: None	Self: Ferþ/Mod (combination of both Hyge and Myne)

To average this out, we know that we need a concept of material body, breath/vital force, mental functions, wisdom, and self. Considering the connection between the Gaulish tribes and Germanic tribes in the Belgic confederacies, we can guess there may have been a similar structure in the idea of being/soul. For the next table, we’ll compare Proto-Germanic and Gaulish with the Anglo-Saxon parts/words that mean roughly the same thing.

Anglo -Saxon    Proto-Germanic	  Gaulish Skin/Membrane	Hama	*Hamô	*Cicos Body	Lic	*Līką	*Colannis Energy/Air	Æþm	*Ēþmaz	*Anatlâ Mental Function (Mind)	Hyge	*Hugiz	*Britus Wisdom/Memory	Myne	*Muniz	*Menmû Self (Heart/Spirit)	Ferþ/Mod  *Ferhwą/*Mōdaz   *Cridios

As one can see, there’s a little bit of a linguistic divide between the Anglo-Saxon, Proto-Germanic and Gaulish concepts. Because it’s the goal of Senobessus Bolgon to extrapolate a connection to the Germanic and Celtic, we will attempt to do so by taking most of Proto-Germanic cognates of the Anglo-Saxon parts and Gallisize them as if they were borrowed/loaned/exchanged.

Proto-Indo-European	 Proto-Germanic	  Early stage of Gaulish	 Middle stage of Gaulish 	 Late stage of Gaulish Skin/Membrane	*Kám (cover, clothes)	*Hamô (Cover, Skin) 	(*Camos?)	(*Camos?)	*Amos/Gamos Body	*Līg (image, likeness)	*Līką (body, corpse)	*Lîcon	*Lîcon	*Lîcâ Mental Function	*Kʷk-í-s or *Kʷek- (“see”)	*Hugiz (thought, mind, sense, understanding)	*Cugis	*Ugis	*Xugis Self (Hearth/Spirit)	*Perkʷ-(body/life/spirit/tree)/*Mō/*Mē-(Endeavor,will, temper)	*Ferhwą(body/life)/*Mōdaz (mind, sense, zeal, boldness, courage)	*Erpon/*Moudos	*Ercuon/*Môdos	*Ferxuâ/*Môdâ

Now we have the completed table for the Gaulish parts (with most of the borrowed terms from the hypothetical early category, since I like the aesthetic):

Gaulish Skin/Membrane	*Amos/Gamos Body	*Lîcon Energy/Air	*Anatlâ Mental Function (Mind)	*Cugis Wisdom/Memory	*Menmû Self (Heart/Spirit)	*Erpon/*Moudos

Senobessus Bolgon Interpretation:

To quote Mr. Beofeld (in a way), ‘The *Lîcon is us, and we are the Lîcon’. It is our material/physical body. The *Amos/Gamos is our skin, but also connected to a spiritual membrane around the entire *Lîcon, akin to an ‘aura’ but more. Our Anatlâ is our breath of life, our vitality. It is connected to the Lîcon and our *Erpon/*Moudos (The *Erpon is comprised of both the *Cugis (thinking/thought) and *Menmû (Wisdom/Memory), but once our death comes, our Anatlâ separates from the *Lîcon, and disconnects the *Lîcon and *Erpon.

The *Erpon stays inside the *Lîcon for a time. It can take the form of the *Lîcon or another before traveling to its next destination. Unlike the *Erpon however, the *Gamos does not retain it’s *Cugis or *Menmû, though it retains the form of the Lîcon. The *Gamos stays with the remains and is what is offered to at gravesites for one possible type of ancestral cultus, likened to Alfarr or the Shade as mentioned above. The *Erpon however can be reintroduced into the world via metempsychosis/reincarnation, which is determined by it’s journey from the *Lîcon.

If it completes it’s purification (see Brunaux’s idea of ‘Druidic’ theology above), the *Erpon may split into the separate parts *Cugis and *Menmû. The *Cugis would then join the gods and can be offered to and interacted with (similar to the rational soul and example of Herakles apotheosis), whereas the *Menmû would travel to another afterlife of indeterminate destination (Ex: Isle of the Blessed, Helheim, the Otherworld, or just where their family beckons), potentially coming together with the ‘collective ancestors’.

This would reconcile and make possible for simultaneous three afterlives; 1) Gravesite Ancestor Cultus 2) Reincarnation/Purification/Joining with the gods upon death 3) Collective ancestor cultus in any hall/kingdom/domain of a god.

Old Norse
Today, we tend to think of the self as having two or three components: a body, a mind, and perhaps a soul. These few parts form a coherent single whole that can be clearly and cleanly separated from its environment, at least conceptually. The line that separates self and other is fairly absolute and unalterable.

In the Norse worldview, however, the self is a more complicated entity. While the Norse certainly had a concept of the self – there is no bland “oneness” in their perspective – that self is comprised of numerous different parts that are all semi-autonomous and can detach themselves from one another under certain circumstances.

None of these parts quite correspond to the concept of a “soul” in the traditional Christian sense – an absolutely unique and nontransferable essence of a person. The Old Norse word for “soul,” sál, was invented only after the Norse converted to Christianity, which highlights the prior lack of such a concept.[1] (Various parts of the self were, however, thought to live on after death or be reincarnated. See below and Death and the Afterlife.)

The Norse worldview never placed much value on a uniform set of doctrines, and, accordingly, it contains no comprehensive, systematic account of the parts that comprise the human self. This present article makes no attempt to do such a thing either, and instead offers descriptions of four of the most important and commonly-mentioned parts of the self in Old Norse literature: the hamr (“shape/form/appearance”), the hugr (“thought”), the fylgja (“follower”), and the hamingja (“luck”).

The Hamr

Hamr (pronounced like the English word “hammer”) literally translates to “shape” or “skin.” The hamr is one’s form or appearance, that which others perceive through sensory observation. Unlike in our modern worldview, however, that which is perceived by the senses is not absolutely and unalterably static and fixed. In fact, hamr is the most crucial word in the Old Norse lexicon of shapeshifting. The Old Norse phrase that denotes the process of shapeshifting is skipta hömum, “changing hamr,” and the quality of being able to perform this feat is called hamramr, “of strong hamr.”[2]

The Hugr

Hugr can be most satisfactorily translated as “thought” or “mind.” It corresponds to someone’s personality and conscious cognitive processes, and therefore overlaps considerably with what we today would call someone’s “inner self.”[3]

The hugr generally stays within its “owner,” but can at times create effects in faraway people just by thinking about them in a certain way. This is particularly possible for people who are described as having an exceptionally strong hugr.[4]

The Fylgja

Remember the cats, ravens, and other familiar spirits who are often the companions of witches in European folktales? These are fylgjur (pronounced “FILG-yur”) in the plural and fylgja (pronounced “FILG-ya”) in the singular. The fylgja is generally perceived in an animal form by those with second sight, although human fylgjur aren’t unheard-of. It’s an attendant spirit whose well-being is intimately tied to that of its owner – for example, if the fylgja dies, its owner dies, too. Its character and form are closely connected to the character of its owner; a person of noble birth might have a bear fylgja, a savage and violent person, a wolf, or a gluttonous person, a pig.

Fylgja literally translates as “follower,” but, as often as not, it’s depicted as traveling ahead of its owner, arriving at the intended destination before its owner or appearing in the dreams of someone who will meet the owner the following day. Intriguingly, the term is also applied to the afterbirth,[5] but the connection is mysterious and unclear.

The Hamingja

The fourth and final part of the Norse self that we’ll consider here is the hamingja (pronounced “HAHM-ing-ya”). The word is often used in an abstract sense to signify “luck,”[6] but the Norse understanding of luck is very different from our own. In Bettina Sommer’s fitting words, “luck was a quality inherent in the man and his lineage, a part of his personality similar to his strength, intelligence, or skill with weapons, at once both the cause and the expression of the success, wealth, and power of a family.”[7]

Luck, the hamingja, is a personal entity in its own right, is part of the self, and can be split off from the other components of the self in certain circumstances. When a person dies, his or her hamingja is often reincarnated in one of his or her descendants, particularly if the child is given the name of the original owner of the hamingja.[8] Sometimes, as in Viga-Glum’s Saga, the hamingja bequeaths itself of its own accord to a relative of its original owner, without any special naming having to take place.[9] The hamingja can also be lent to others during life to assist them in particularly perilous missions where luck is needed especially badly.[10]

The Paradox of Individualism and Social Embeddedness

There’s a fascinating paradox in the Norse view of the self. On the one hand, Norse culture was strikingly individualistic in the sense of placing a very high value on individual accomplishment (although this particular brand of individualism didn’t have much of a place for the “anything goes” tendency within its modern cousin). The Norse went to incredible lengths to be celebrated and remembered on an individual basis as great warriors and heroes – consider the almost-fearless Viking raiders, or the legendary explorers who discovered and settled in such far-flung places as Greenland and even North America. The Old Norse poem Hávamál advises its listeners,

Wealth will pass, Men will pass, You too, likewise, will pass. One thing alone Will never pass: The fame of one who has earned it.[11]

And yet, as we’ve seen, the Norse view of the self was actually rather diffuse and fluid. How are we to make sense of this tension?

We’ve seen that the Norse would have rejected our modern view of the self as a monad – something which, in the last analysis, is unique and cleanly distinct from its environment, and whose core characteristics aren’t really separable or transferable to others. (Of course, we do make an exception for the transmission of genes to one’s children, but that’s a purely physical and involuntary process.) Instead, the Norse saw the self as a locus of spirit, will, and perception – that is, more of a strong tendency than an absolute. As such, the self could be readily related to and thought of as a single thing in addition to its various constituent parts and a member of a group.

In other words, the self was defined by its social position and deeds rather than by a detached essence. Even the spiritual parts of the self were social and active entities. As much as the Norse stressed competitive individual success, that success (or failure) occurred within a particular social framework, and was defined in social terms – not as “following one’s passion” or “fulfilling one’s dreams,” but as earning fame.

https://larhusfyrnsida.com/the-hama/

https://larhusfyrnsida.com/the-hyge/

https://windintheworldtree.wordpress.com/2018/01/24/the-multi-part-soul/

https://senobessusbolgon.wordpress.com/pettis-anamos-parts-of-the-soul/

https://norse-mythology.org/concepts/the-parts-of-the-self/