God Poles

God poles are an interesting expression of germanic paganism. They seem to be about as old as the culture itself, with some bog finds dating back to the ninth century, references to them in the writings of Ahmad ibn Fadlan along the Volga, and descriptions of the statues at Uppsala. Proper god poles can be six or seven feet tall, and more than a foot across and almost always carved of wood. Most often, one would reserve a small area of their land as a kind of sacred space, and erect the pole(s) there.

The function seemed to be some cross between altar, totem and good luck charm. From what I understand, when the pole was erected, the god was invited to inhabit the carving providing a more direct link between the ..erector? ..and the divine. The pole seemed to function primarily as an altar of sorts, with some of them having been described as having hollow mouths to leave offerings in. Finally, there also seemed to be an idea that one would orient the poles in such a way to look over one's land and home, with the notion seemingly that the gods would then be "watching over" your home in a literal way. 

All of this rattling in my head, I decided to sit down and carve a little something for myself. 

My efforts are.. humble.. to say the least, but given that this is my first attempt to actually carve anything, I think it turned out alright. It's not a very large piece, obviously - maybe four inches tall - and would probably qualify more as a good luck charm than a proper god pole, but I'm happy with it. He will be a little desk Thor, for the time being.

After the project was done, I wound up feeling curious and looking up how people who seriously carve as a hobby go about doing it - my effort was mostly "chip at it until it looks like something." Turns out they get super thin, sharp knives and specialized gouges and scoops and then select a nice soft wood like birch, or fir or pine. Then there's me, muscling a K-bar through an old oak branch I got out of the back yard. True to form, I only look up the instructions after they are no longer helpful. Apparently, people tend not to carve oak unless they are using power tools. As sore as my hands are, I can see why.

That said, it was a really nice experience regardless of how the actual statue came out. I feel like I got a lot of value from the experience even outside of any kind of ritual significance of the statue itself. Something about working the wood brings an odd kind of connection, a physical expression of the faith and culture. One can almost imagine an ancestor a thousand years distant, sitting around the fire and carving a little charm of his very own. It's a very satisfying connection.

I think I've got a new hobby. Albeit, next time I may have to invest in proper tools.