The Danubian way of life hasn't entirely disappeared

Early spring began eventfully at the Institute of Archaeomythology when we organized an online lecture series together with the Critical Academy (Kriittinen korkeakoulu) titled ”Did the Goddess create the world? Old Europe's reply”. Harald Haarmann lectured, and I was the course host and coordinator. We studied goddesses from various mythologies, and focused especially on the Great Goddess of Old Europe. We looked at the significance of goddess figurines in rituals, as well as Old European innovations, their rhythm of life, and their relationship with Nature.

The most memorable of these lectures for me were the last two, which dealt with the rhythm of life and relationship to Nature. The Old Europeans (whom we may call "the Danubians" for short, after the Danube civilization), saw people as an equal part of Nature. Humans were not separate from it, and definitely not above it. Nature and its bounty – grain, plants, fruits, olives and so forth – were creations of the Goddess, her gifts. These gifts were to be respected, and their utilization came with an intrinsic responsibility to maintain Nature's holy balance. Natural resources were gathered according to need, but not in excess. The Danubians believed that each plant and animal had its own protective spirit. Most likely in the same manner as some indigenous peoples still do today, the Danubians communicated with these protective spirits. If it were necessary to fell a tree, for example, apologies would be made to the tree's spirit.

Auli communicating with a pine tree. Photo: Virpi Lehtinen

At this point in the lecture series I was positively amazed, because what was being described sounded precisely like the kind of relationship to Nature that I have learnt through studying the use of plants and herbal remedies. This way of seeing people as connected to the rest of Nature has definitely not disappeared. These traditions are interconnected by a certain deep bond with Nature. Since we ourselves are a part of Nature, this must also include our connection to ourselves, to Nature within ourselves. Indeed, I'm convinced that all societies and civilizations that have been able to preserve a balance with their environment are in such an innate union with their natural surroundings, that its destruction would feel like self-destruction – which it actually is. For them, respectfulness and a healthy humility is a default setting, and stepping away from that would seem unnatural.

The Danubians lived according to the seasonal cycle. Their annual rhythm was determined by planting in the spring, summer's growing season, the autumn harvest and winter rest. There was really no other option – when darkness came, it was simply just dark. When the growing season was over, there was no agricultural work. As such, it was "easy" living according to natural cycles. Nowadays, in our age of technology and information work, this doesn't occur quite as fluidly. However, cyclicity is increasingly discussed e.g. in the media, when a psychologist reminds us that "polar night fatigue" is real, and that those affected by it should allow themselves to slow down. On a broader level, various predominantly female coaches from wellness circles speak of it. Awareness of cyclicity has become a basic self-care skill for contemporary women. There are teachings available on the menstrual cycle and how its phases mirror seasonal changes, and there are different women's circles which focus on seasonal themes.

We still have a chance to learn how to live in harmony with Nature. However, this way of life is no longer appreciated on a societal level as it was in e.g. Old Europe – rather, its realization is up to individuals and subcultures at this moment. 

The lectures stirred discussion about the meaning of cyclicity. The Danubians were known to be innovative people. Several inventions such as writing, the potter's wheel, and the wagon and the wheel, were first born in Danubian communities. I proposed the idea that living in an area where seasonal changes greatly influence life might have fed innovativeness. If there was less work and more free time during the winter, creativity could abound. Perhaps their thoughts might go to the next growing season – how to gather the next harvest more easily? What sort of tools could be useful for different tasks? Maybe there was time for planning and pondering. This is how I experience cyclicity in my own life – autumn and winter are seasons of introspection, when I go through inner changes. Come spring, new thoughts and ideas gain strength to grow, and in summer they can blossom as new habits and successes. In other words, winter is a time for unhurried contemplation and planning the future, while the best of these ideas can be actualized during the spring and summer.

We can attune ourselves to life's cyclic rhythms all over the world. The lunar cycle, with its birth and death, is omnipresent and affects women through their menstrual cycle as well. Here in Europe, our natural surroundings embody the cycles of life through distinct, changing seasons. Is this yet another gift from the Goddess?

Auli Kurvinen

Read this blog in Finnish here.