In The Beginning, There Was The Moon

My personal fascination with the Moon began when I was a young child, as it probably did with most people who have stared up at her beauty in wonder. The Moon is an incredibly magical figure to humanity—whether a person believes in magic or not, it has always struck us with awe, inspired the best of us to create amazing works of art, and drove our brightest minds to understand her mysteries.

Through humanity’s work and dedication, we have learned that the Moon’s gravitational pull has a direct influence on all corners of our lives. Science tells us the Moon rules over Earth’s water sources, regulating our tides and weather patterns, not to mention the stability of Earth’s rotation and axis. Psychology shows us that the Moon’s effect on water may also have a part to play on our behavioral patterns, as humans are mostly made of water. And spiritual communities, religious groups, and our beautiful witches all attest that the Moon governs over psychic ability, as well. In short, we owe her quite a lot. In fact, we owe her the existence of life on this planet altogether.

One thing that peaked my curiosity about the Moon was the story of her creation. A tale that has left scientists and astronomers baffled that we’ve only just begun to scratch the surface of and find the truth in the last 50 years. A couple years ago, I catered to a slight hyper-fixation on the beginning of the Moon and life on Earth, studying into the formation of our solar system and how everything we recognize as constant in the night sky came to be. The more I learned, the more the story began to sound familiar, until I realized that I had read it before: in the Voluspa.

The Voluspa is the first poem in the Poetic Edda, detailing a prophecy Odin had obtained from a powerful Volva, or seeress. Volvas were masters of Seidr—ancient Scandinavian magic and divination. In this poem, the seeress describes the beginning of life on Earth, the progression of the world turning from magic and embracing science, the gradual turning of the wheel when humanity eventually returns to magic where we can combine the spiritual with the scientific together, and eventually ending with the story of Ragnarök, the end of the world as we know it.

Of course, it’s not all “doom and gloom” and there is plenty left to interpretation. But since we are focusing on the creation story of the Moon, today, in honor of the new year, I’m just going to be focusing on my interpretation of the first six stanzas and what that has to do with our scientific understanding of how the Moon actually formed and how life on Earth began.

I’ll start, though, with a rudimentary summary of what our scientists have discovered within the last 50 years. Approximately 4 billion years ago, Earth was nothing more than a disoriented rock of magma and metal hurtling through its orbit around the Sun, in complete chaos. There was no order to anything at the time, no stable form, no atmosphere, no possibility for life. Then, the Earth was struck by a massive asteroid—big enough that it could have been the beginnings of another planet in our solar system but had found its orbit in our direct path. When the two celestial objects collided, it broke a large chunk out of the earth. That chunk, along with what remained of the asteroid, got stuck in the Earth’s gravitational pull, and began its own orbit around the planet. Over time, all those pieces formed together, pulled in by creating its own gravitational pull—but with all the same bits that make up our beautiful Earth. Like in Christianity’s creation story how Eve was made from Adam, so the Moon was made of Earth. As the Moon developed her own gravitational force, it began affecting the Earth’s ability to create its own atmosphere. When Earth formed that atmosphere, water particles that had since been trapped in the metals and magma could begin to condensate, collect, and eventually form our oceans. Thus, the evolution of life could begin. Not only this, but the initial crash of the asteroid along with the eventual gravitational pull of the Moon created Earth’s current rotation, stabilized her axis, and allowed us to experience consistent days, nights, seasons, and star patterns.

In short, if you have anyone to thank for our ability to exist, you need only look to the night sky.

Imagine my excitement when I realized the first six stanzas of the Voluspa tell the same story.

The first is our introduction—announcing that Odin had come to ask for prophecy, and the seeress stating she will begin with the creation of life: (I’m using Lee M. Hollander’s translation of the Poetic Edda)

Hear me, all ye hallowed beings,
both high and low of Heimdall’s children:
thou wilt, Valfather, that I well set forth
the fates of the world which as first I recall.

The second, third, and fourth stanzas describe the chaos of Earth before the Moon’s formation. Beginning with before there was anything—all was void, the pure cosmic energy of space but with nine potential worlds swirling in the darkness (our nine planets—I don’t care what the “classification” is, Pluto is a part of our solar system and therefore is included). Introducing Yggdrasil, our spiritual connection to the universe. The only semblance of life that could exist at this point was the spiritual consciousness of the universe, itself. Stanza three specifies that during this time of chaos on earth, no water, land, or atmospheric sky could exist. Until stanza four describes the crash of the asteroid into Earth, beginning the process of stabilization to allow life to form. Though this was in the earliest stages of the process, before the Moon developed her own gravitational force, as will be explained in the fifth stanza:

I call to mind the kin of etins
which long ago did give me life.
Nine worlds I know, the nine abodes
of the glorious world-tree, the ground beneath.

In earliest times did Ymir live:
was nor sea nor land no salty waves,
neither earth was there nor upper heaven,
but a gaping nothing, and green things nowhere.

Was the land then lifted aloft by Bur’s sons
who made Mithgarth, the matchless earth;
shone from the south, the sun on dry land,
on the ground then grew the greensward soft.

The fifth stanza describes what it would have been like on Earth before the Moon’s gravity stabilized her rotation. At this point in time, if you were to stand and look to the sky and watch the Sun’s movement and gaze at the stars, the Sun would appear to rise and set in inconsistent directions and the stars would appear to wander aimlessly because of the Earth’s unstable axis and rotation:

From the south the sun, by the side of the moon,
heaved his right hand over heaven’s rim;
the sun knew not what seat he had,
the stars knew not was stead they held,
the moon knew not what might she had.

Stanza five ends with the Moon not yet forming her own gravitational pull on the Earth, though in stanza six, it appears she has achieved this feat, and the spirits of nature are able to come forth and announce the beginning of night, day, and consistent seasons. Thus, allowing life on Earth to begin.

Then gathered together the gods for counsel,
the holy hosts, and held converse;
to night and new moon their names they gave,
the morning named, and midday also,
forenoon and evening, to order the year.

And as the poem continues, there was much celebrating. Though I’ll continue that analysis another day.

I hope this provided some fun context, food-for-thought on your own interpretations, or at the very least, was an entertaining read. Happy New Year, and congrats to all of us for completing yet another turn around the Sun with our beautiful and loving partner, the Moon.