Copyright© 2024, Dave Woosley and Way of Arda's Lore. All Rights reserved. Tolkien's shamanic worldview Vision, Augury, and the Stewardship of Nature in J.R.R. Tolkien’s Life and Legendarium In this paper, I intend to demonstrate that J.R.R. Tolkien likely employed a form of shamanic consciousness to create much of the narrative material in his Legendarium. Additionally, I will explore instances of shamanic insight and knowledge reception in Tolkien’s personal life. Finally, I will examine Tolkien’s love for the natural world, focusing on how nature—including plants, animals, and landscapes—is depicted with individual identity and moral agency in his life and works. What exactly is Shamanism? Reconstructed cave art of Tassili n'Ajjer, ~4713 B.C.E. [ link ] This question is worth examining, as the modern overculture often believes that shamanism is something only indigenous cultures can practice, usually learned from a culture's shaman or medicine person. However, considering that the human genus Homo emerged 2.8 to 2.5 million years ago 1 and behavioral modernity 2 appeared 50,000 to 70,000 years ago, there must have been a "primal shaman" who was not taught by any predecessor. This conclusion follows logically from human development over time. However, to return to the original question, shamanism is a spiritual practice found in various cultures worldwide. It is characterized by the belief that certain individuals, known as shamans , can communicate with an intermediary spirit world, also termed the “Imaginal Realm” by philosopher and theologian Henri Corbin [ link ]. Shamans are often seen as healers, mediators, and spiritual guides within their communities. They are believed to have the power to enter altered states of consciousness 3 . In these states, shamans are said to journey to other realms to interact with spirits, ancestors, and other supernatural beings. These journeys are undertaken for various purposes, such as healing the sick, obtaining wisdom or guidance, ensuring successful hunts, or performing rituals for the community's well-being. The shaman's role is deeply integrated into the social and religious fabric of their culture, often holding a respected (and sometimes feared) position within their society. If the first shamans were untaught, how did they acquire these abilities? By entering an altered mental state— whether induced by entheogens (medicine plants like Peyote, Salvia divinorum , or Ayahuasca), intense meditation as practiced by some Buddhist monks, or a strenuous physical and mental ordeal, such as the Vision Quest practiced by various First Nations in North America. The specific manner of inducing this state doesn’t matter: the goal is the altered mental state itself , through which new information flows. This information is often used for practical purposes. For example, among the Inuit: Caribou Inuit shamans are able to examine a road in advance of a journey, in either of two manners. "Sometimes they fall asleep and see their visions in a dream, or a spirit comes down invisibly from the air, hovers over them, speaks from the air and tells them what the road is like." 4 Equally—and probably more profoundly, as it tends to extend the mythos of a culture—shamanic information can also be used in stories, which in their turn contribute to the creation of a culture’s myths. One example of this comes from the !Kung San people (‘bushmen’) who live on the western edge of the Kalahari desert in Southern Africa. In her book The !Kung of Nyae Nyae , author Lorna Marshall describes how a shaman’s vision of a giant animal became a central mythological figure in their stories: In the !Kung San tradition, a shaman's vision of a giant animal, seen during a trance dance, was later woven into their mythology as a powerful spirit being. This vision became a part of the oral history that explained natural phenomena and influenced their spiritual practices. 5 Another example comes from the Amazon Basin: During a shamanic ritual, Yanomami shamans ingest hallucinogenic snuff called ebene , which induces visions. One notable vision described by a shaman involved a colossal anaconda spirit that he encountered. This vision later became a foundational myth, explaining the origin of the rivers and the relationship between the Yanomami and the spirits of the forest. The anaconda spirit was integrated into their oral traditions and ceremonies, symbolizing the life-giving and destructive powers of the Amazon rivers. 6 Finally, to illustrate the truly global nature of this way of being, we have an example from Japan: In ancient Shinto practices, shamans known as miko would enter trances during kagura performances. One miko's vision of a sun goddess dancing in the heavens was recorded and subsequently transformed into the myth of Amaterasu, the sun goddess, and her emergence from the cave. This vision-myth became a central narrative in Shinto, symbolizing the cyclical nature of darkness and light, and was celebrated in various festivals and rituals. 7 What is the connection to Tolkien? When I describe aspects of Tolkien's mental state as 'shamanic,' I am referring to his ability to receive symbolic and visionary information in an altered cognitive state and quickly transcribe it into written form. My focus is primarily on the neurological altered state of the receiver, rather than on the receiver’s culture, a field technically called ‘neurotheology’ or the ‘cognitive science of religion’. Please see Appendix II for a list of references. Evidence of this ability is found throughout the biographical material that Christopher Tolkien frequently references in his examinations of his father's works. The clearest example is found in The Notion Club Papers (in Volume 9 of HoME, Sauron Defeated ). This work describes lucid dreams, detailed historical visions, intense imagination, hallucinations of mysterious languages, encounters with ghosts, psychometry (the ability to know an object's history by touching it), and many other altered states of consciousness and 'paranormal' experiences. Christopher Tolkien's supporting notes connect several of these fictional descriptions to J.R.R. Tolkien’s real-life incidents and experiences. 8 As biographer Humphrey Carpenter notes: No account of the external events of Tolkien’s life can provide more than a superficial explanation of the origins of his mythology. Certainly, the device that linked the stories in the first draft of the book (it was later abandoned) 9 owes something to William Morris’s The Earthly Paradise; for, as in that story, a sea-voyager arrives at an unknown land where he is to hear a succession of tales. Tolkien’s voyager was called Eriol, a name that is explained as meaning ‘One who dreams alone’. But the tales that Eriol hears, grand, tragic, and heroic, cannot be explained as the mere product of literary influences and personal experience. When Tolkien began to write he drew upon some deeper, richer seam of his imagination than he had yet explored; and it was a seam that would continue to yield for the rest of his life. More compellingly, in Letter #180, Tolkien gives us a glimpse into his creative process, revealing a fascinating relationship between conscious effort and a more mysterious, almost subconscious, act of creation. He writes, “I think a lot of this kind of work goes on at other (to say ‘lower’, ‘deeper’, or ‘higher’ introduces a false gradation) levels, when one is saying how-do-you-do, or even ‘sleeping’. I have long ceased to invent (though even patronizing or sneering critics on the side praise my ‘invention’): I wait till 10 I seem to know what really happened. Or till it writes itself.” (italics in the original). This passage suggests that Tolkien viewed his role not so much as a creator, but as a chronicler of events that, in some sense, already existed. The implication is that his stories were not entirely products of his imagination but were instead discovered by or revealed to him, much like ancient myths or historical accounts. He reinforces this idea in another statement: “The stories were the thing. They arose in my mind as ‘given’ things, and as they came, separately, so too the links grew. An absorbing, though continually interrupted labour (especially since, even apart from the necessities of life, the mind would wing to the other pole and spend itself on the linguistics): yet always I had the sense of recording what was already ‘there’, somewhere: not of ‘inventing’.” 11 This quote further emphasizes his sense of being guided by an external source, as if the tales of Middle-earth were pre-existing truths waiting to be unearthed. In fact, Tolkien's use of the phrase “what really happened” appears 13 times across his letters and writings 12 , underscoring its significance to him. This concept is not merely an artistic sentiment; it reflects a worldview in which myths and stories hold a reality of their own, independent of their human narrators. Interestingly, in The Notion Club Papers , Tolkien attributes this phrase to a character named Frankley, which adds a layer of metafiction to his work. The story, which deals with precognitive dream reception and other shamanic phenomena, blurs the lines between fiction and reality in a manner that suggests Tolkien's belief in the intrinsic truth of his narratives. 13 This idea is significant because it connects his creative process to shamanic traditions, where visions and dreams are often seen as channels for receiving knowledge from other realms. The Notion Club Papers storyline itself includes a striking example of what might be called a prophetic element. In the story, a massive thunderstorm complex strikes England from the Western Sea on June 12, 1987, bringing with it torrential rain, lightning, and fierce winds that wreak havoc across the land. The real-life 'Great Storm of 1987' occurred just four months after this fictional event, mirroring its impacts with uncanny similarity. The storm, which caused widespread damage and uprooted millions of trees across southern England, stands as one of the most devastating weather events in modern British history [ link ]. Although some might dismiss this as mere coincidence, the fact that The Notion Club Papers was written in 1945—over four decades before the actual storm—raises intriguing questions. As a practicing shaman who has experience with precognitive visions, I would call this ‘prescient’ at the very least, suggesting that Tolkien may have tapped into something beyond the ordinary scope of imagination. Tolkien's experiences with recurring dreams further bolster the idea that his creative process was intertwined with deeper, perhaps unconscious, forces. He frequently had what he referred to as his 'Atlantis complex'—a vivid, recurring dream of a great wave overwhelming and flooding the land [ link ]. This haunting vision left a lasting impression on him, eventually making its way into his legendarium. The imagery from this dream became central to the history of Númenor, an island kingdom in Middle-earth that meets its end in a catastrophic deluge. This theme is explored not only in The Silmarillion but also in his unfinished works, The Lost Road and The Notion Club Papers . These narratives reflect Tolkien's ongoing exploration of this archetypal motif, blending his personal subconscious experiences with the mythic history he was constructing. The fact that such a dream would recur so persistently in his life suggests that Tolkien may have perceived it as more than just a product of his mind, but rather as a connection to a deeper, universal truth that he was compelled to express through his stories. One may ask at this point if all the foregoing is intended as a ‘proof’? The answer to that is ‘no’; simply because in physical reality, no phenomenon can ever be proved (that is reserved for abstract mathematical theorems), but can only be shown to be highly correlated (or not) 14 . The gold-standard for that in Physics—which unlike shamanism deals in phenomena which can be precisely measured—is six standard deviations from the mean, which they refer to as “six sigmas” [ link ]. Six sigmas translates to one chance in a half-billion that a given result is a random fluke. In shamanism, we can’t use tools of that sort, because we can only name things, not assign meaningful numbers to them that actually measure anything. This is referred to as the “nominal level of measurement”, and the mathematical operations that can be performed upon data of this type are limited. 15 The Japanese Sun goddess Amaterasu is not 7 times more or less powerful than Arien of the Legendarium, for example. One can, however, feel that a given shamanic perception or parts of a mythology feel intrinsically ‘right’. For example, in Norse mythology, Thor embodies the essence of thunder, representing its power and might. This symbolic representation at the nominal level allows for a cultural interpretation that resonates with the beliefs and values of the society. Meanwhile, scientifically, thunder is understood as a shock wave created by the rapid expansion of air due to lightning. Recognizing both perspectives enriches our understanding of how different cultures interpret natural phenomena while also appreciating the underlying physical processes. 16 Or, as Tolkien put it in On Fairy Stories : If we could go backwards in time, the fairy-story might be found to change in details, or to give way to other tales. But there would always be a 'fairy-tale' as long as there was any Thor. When the fairy-tale ceased, there would be just thunder, which no human ear had yet heard. This “rightness of fit” is a quality that is commonly recognized in Tolkien's works. For instance, in Peter Jackson's film The Fellowship of the Ring , the opening voice-over states: “History became legend. Legend became myth. And for two and a half thousand years, the ring passed out of all knowledge.” This concept likely originates from The Notion Club Papers , wherein the character Wilfrid Jeremy remarks: “I have a queer feeling that, if one could go back, one would find not myth dissolving into history, but rather the reverse: real history becoming more mythical—more shapely, simple, discernibly significant, even seen at close quarters. More poetical, and less prosaic, if you like." A subtly different, but more accurate, statement. 17 Tolkien’s logical ‘post-processing’ of received material After Tolkien received his shamanic insights and hastily wrote them down (often with increasing speed, as if trying to capture the details of a fading dream 18 ), he would then engage his logical side with the material. This process is intriguing because it shows how he treated his 'first draft' as a historical text, approaching it as a scholarly editor would. When revising a first draft, Tolkien’s method was akin to preparing an edition of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight or Beowulf Thus, when Tolkien revisited his own first draft, he was trying to understand what ‘the author’ (i.e., himself) actually ‘meant’. He was aware of the possibility of transcription errors or distortions that might have occurred during the process of writing. He also recognized that ‘the author’ was writing from a position of incomplete knowledge and was subject to bias. Viewing the ‘source text’ in this way also allowed selective reengagement with his shamanic side for the portion of narrative under consideration. Author Ursula Hurley gives a useful overview of how this might work and how such a state might be accessed: This dialogue between what some call the conscious and unconscious mind, and what others see as the interaction between the left and right brain, or between reason and intuition, is a paradigm that is repeated everywhere in discourses on creative writing; it is found in craft books, and in the repertoire of exercises that teachers of writing develop to allow the silent mind to be heard. Often it involves techniques to distract the rational mind, to encourage spontaneity and to quieten the inner critic so that our instincts have a chance to surface 19 I will state as a matter of personal experience, though, that this does work better if you have some shamanic talent in addition to a strong logical framework—although I am a scientific writer and not a creative one. I call this process “cognitive mode-switching”. In any event, this unusual creative method led to some significant compositional changes. For example, in the History of Middle-earth volume The Return of the Shadow (HoMe 6) covering the writing of the first part of The Lord of the Rings , Tolkien originally wrote about the hobbits hiding from a horseman who stopped and sniffed the air. Initially, this horseman was intended to be Gandalf, and the hobbits were hiding to surprise him with an ambush. However, during the course of revision, the sniffing horseman transformed into a ‘Black Rider’, and the hobbits were hiding in fear of him. The core incident remained, but its significance was inverted. This is a remarkable way of writing! Most writers probably know what they mean in their first draft, and through revising and re-drafting, they aim to get their expression closer to that known meaning. But Tolkien did the opposite: he generated the first draft, then examined it as if it had been written by someone else, trying to decipher its meaning. In this case, he eventually decided that it meant something quite different from its original form: replacing a friendly wizard with a hostile Nazgul, and a friendly ambush with hiding in fear. In his own words, he had discovered ‘what really happened’. “I bow not yet before the Iron Crown... ...nor cast my own small golden sceptre down.” The lines above come from Tolkien’s poem, Mythopoeia , which he dedicated to his friend C.S. Lewis to demonstrate that myth does not consist of "lies breathed through silver" 20 but rather conveys deeper truths. This is what the poem is really all about. The poem explores the power of myth and creation, emphasizing imagination and storytelling as essential to shaping the world. Tolkien underscores the role of poets and creators in reflecting profound truths and human experiences through myths and legends, delving into themes of good and evil, reality, and the human spirit. He celebrates storytelling’s enduring power to bring light and hope. Tolkien argues that humans are "sub-creators" who, through their imaginative endeavors, mirror the divine act of creation. He illustrates this by suggesting that man, as a sub-creator, refracts the "single White" ray (symbolic of divine creation) into many hues and endlessly combined living shapes that move from mind to mind. This concept emphasizes that creators have the power to breathe life into their works, thereby shaping and enriching the world. Furthermore, Tolkien affirms the right of creators to engage in myth-making and sub-creation, highlighting that this right has not diminished over time. He suggests that creators "make by the same law in which they were made," signifying the timeless nature of their creative efforts. Their legends transcend time, reflecting human experiences, hopes, and fears, and preserving the essence of the human spirit. These creators are celebrated for igniting hearts with legendary fire and illuminating both the present and the past with the light of unseen suns, symbolizing the enduring impact of storytelling on human consciousness and culture. Tolkien also challenges the notion of modern progress as a linear and inevitable force, suggesting that it can lead to a sterile and meaningless existence. He concludes that in Paradise, humans will continue to create and imagine without the taint of evil or falsehood, a concept also reflected in the “Legendarium Ragnarök” known as Dagor Dagorath 21 In "Mythopoeia," myth-making is deeply connected with the creative and transformative power of storytelling. Although the text does not explicitly address shamanic thought, it emphasizes the profound role of creators, particularly poets, in shaping and enriching human experience through their imaginative works. If we view myth-making as a shamanic activity, as explored in the “What Exactly Is Shamanism?” section, parallels emerge between the shaman’s role as a spiritual guide and healer and the poet’s role in Mythopoeia Both are depicted as conduits of wisdom, insight, and transformative energy, capable of illuminating the unseen and kindling the human spirit with their creative endeavors. Additionally, the text celebrates the lasting nature of myths and legends, often intertwined with shamanic traditions across cultures. These myths serve as sources of wisdom, guidance, and spiritual nourishment, reflecting the deep connection between storytelling, spirituality, and the human quest for meaning. The poem and a short discussion of its origins can be read online here [ link ]. Stewardship of Nature and Animism in the Legendarium In Tolkien's Legendarium, Nature is depicted as having personhood through various elements such as plants, animals, water, earth, and rock. There are numerous examples of the personification of natural creatures and features, emphasizing nature's personhood. For instance, in The Lord of the Rings , Gandalf grieves over the holly trees of Hollin, illustrating an emotional connection and care for nature. This interaction portrays nature as morally complex and worthy of empathy and consideration. The Ents are quintessential examples of Tolkien animating nature and giving it the power to resist abuse. They care for the unpopulated landscapes of Middle-earth, particularly the wild, uncultivated wilderness. The story contrasts the Entwives' attraction to sustainable agriculture, agrarian landscapes, gardens, and orchards with the Ents' deep love for and protection of the untamed forests. Another example is Tom Bombadil, who has enormous power over the Old Forest and yet represents a renunciation of control. His respectful and nonviolent approach to nature further emphasizes the personhood of nature in Tolkien's writings. Even an ordinary fox in the chapter "Three is Company" is described in animistic terms: [The Hobbits] curled up in their cloaks and blankets, and were soon fast asleep. They set no watch; even Frodo feared no danger yet, for they were still in the heart of the Shire. A few creatures came and looked at them when the fire had died away. A fox passing through the wood on business of his own stopped several minutes and sniffed. ‘Hobbits!’ he thought. ‘Well, what next? I have heard of strange doings in this land, but I have seldom heard of a hobbit sleeping out of doors under a tree. Three of them! There’s something mighty queer behind this.’ He was quite right, but he never found out any more about it. In The Silmarillion , Tolkien refers to rivers as if they were people, omitting the article and using animate pronouns (he/him/his) for the rivers Sirion, Gelion, and Narog. These rivers play significant roles alongside human and elvish characters. In the chapter “Of Beleriand and its Realms,” the rivers take over the active narrative role from the elves, with the narration following their courses and describing their unique characteristics and dynamism. For example, loud Sirion “[falls] from the north in a mighty fall below the Meres, and then he plunge[s] suddenly underground into great tunnels that the weight of his falling waters delved; and he issue[s] again three leagues southward with great noise and smoke through rocky arches at the foot of the hills which were called the Gates of Sirion.” In contrast, “Gelion had neither fall nor rapids throughout his course, but was ever swifter than was Sirion.” Ulmo, the creator-god of water, differentiates between his rivers, loving Sirion and Gelion best, not as a creator taking pride in a finished work, but as one being loving another. Though The Silmarillion generally focuses more on humanoid-centered themes than the chapter “Of Beleriand and its Realms,” it meticulously documents the defilement of water and the ravaging of lands throughout its narrative of long defeat. These events are carefully noted alongside significant occurrences such as the fall of cities or the deaths of kings. One of the most critical moments is the defilement of Helevorn, a mountain lake that feeds the river Gelion, during the Battle of Sudden Flame. The subsequent defilement of Ivrin, the source of Sirion, is also highlighted: “Glaurung the Urulóki passed over Anfauglith, and thence came into the north vales of Sirion and there did great evil. Under the shadows of Ered Wethrin he defiled the Eithel Ivrin, and thence he passed into the realm of Nargothrond, and burned the Talath Dirnen, the Guarded Plain, between Narog and Teiglin.” Glaurung’s actions—burning a plain and defiling a water source—are unequivocally condemned as grave evils before he even reaches the Elven-city of Nargothrond. The narrative links the defilement of water with the fall of a kingdom, amplifying the tragic significance of both events. The damage to the land extends beyond these examples. Ard-Galen, once a green plateau, is transformed into Anfauglith, “the Gasping Dust,” following its devastation in the Battle of Sudden Flame. The land ‘perished’, as Tolkien describes, with its grasses consumed by fire, leaving it a barren, lifeless waste full of choking dust. The choice of the term ‘perished’ and the vivid depiction of the scorched landscape underscore that the destruction of each river or field is a unique, singular tragedy—the death of a living entity rather than just the loss of resources. Centrally, The Two Trees are portrayed as the ultimate expression of the natural world in Tolkien's mythos. They represent the sum of all Yavanna’s creative power and purposes concerning plants, serving as potent symbols of natural warmth, light, beauty, and great worth. They are described as the most mythically significant symbols in all of Tolkien’s writings. The Trees are also the source of light and life in the world, providing surpassing beauty that ushered in the "Days of the Bliss of Valinor." Their beauty inspired Fëanor, the greatest of the Noldor craftsmen, to capture their light in the three Silmarils, which were considered to hold the fates of Arda—earth, sea, and air. Furthermore, the Trees are appreciated, valued, and sanctified by the divine agents, the Valar, many thousands of years before the arrival of the Elves and Men in Middle-earth. This highlights their significance as symbols of natural creation and sanctity. These examples show how Tolkien’s work personifies natural creatures and features, portraying them as morally complex entities with their own relationships, emotions, and resistance to external forces. This approach underscores their individuality and significance within the Legendarium. Additionally, Tolkien’s texts highlight the creative and transformative nature of myth-making, illustrating the sub-creator’s role as a conduit of wisdom, insight, and transformative energy. This role parallels that of a shaman, who acts as a spiritual guide and healer, using their creative endeavors to reveal the unseen and inspire the human spirit. Turning now to Tolkien’s personal views of Nature, we must delve into a bit of biography: Tolkien was born in South Africa in 1892 but moved to England at the age of three and a half. His memories of South Africa were limited, except for a frightening encounter with a great hairy spider. In England, Tolkien lived in various places during his childhood, including the rural hamlet of Sarehole , the urban city of Birmingham, and suburban King’s Heath 22 Sarehole, along with the farmer’s mill he remembered fondly, inspired the Shire in his works. 23 In a BBC interview, Tolkien said: The Shire is very like the kind of world in which I first became aware of things, very like. Which was perhaps more poignant to me because I wasn't born in it. I was born in Bloemfontein, South Africa. I was very young when I got back, but at the same time it bites into your memory and imagination, even if you don’t think it has. If your first Christmas tree is a wilting eucalyptus, and if you're normally troubled by heat and sand, then, to have just at the age when imagination is opening out, suddenly find yourself in a quiet Warwickshire village, I think it engenders a particular love of what you might call central Midlands English countryside based on good water, stones, and elm trees and small quiet rivers and so on, and, of course, rustic people about. 24 Exploring the countryside with his brother Hilary, Tolkien developed a deep love for plants, especially trees, and found human maltreatment of them as hard to bear as some people find the ill-treatment of animals. Orphaned at the age of 12, Tolkien longed for the idyllic Sarehole, gentle parental guidance, and a cooperative community. He found refuge in Catholicism, as Father Francis from his church cared for him and arranged his schooling. Tolkien fell in love with a non-Catholic woman named Edith Bratt and was eventually sent to the Somme during World War I. In a trench in France, he began writing the first stories of the Legendarium. After J.R.R. Tolkien married Edith Bratt, they continued to correspond until settling into married life in late 1918. During this time, they wrote several hundred letters to each other, which provide valuable insights into Tolkien’s undergraduate days and his war service. The Legendarium materials, including The Silmarillion , originated during this period. Tolkien's working methods were meticulous and extensive, involving detailed histories, languages, and mythologies for his creation. The invention of names was a significant aspect of his work, with unique and evocative names for characters, places, and objects, drawing from various linguistic traditions and his linguistic expertise. A remarkable aspect of Tolkien's creative process was his development of elven languages, primarily Quenya and Sindarin. Quenya was inspired by Finnish and Latin, while Sindarin drew influences from Welsh and Old English. His philological expertise allowed him to create fully developed grammars, vocabularies, and writing systems. He also explored the etymological roots of words, adding depth and authenticity to his linguistic creations. The elven languages were not just literary devices but a testament to Tolkien's passion for language and his desire to create an immersive world. Their development reflects his dedication to constructing a cohesive and believable mythology for his Legendarium. Tolkien continued to work on The Silmarillion in old age, with his son, Christopher Tolkien, later organizing and preparing it for publication as his literary executor. In all his tales, trees are spoken of with reverence. Not long before his death, Tolkien responded to an article in the Daily Telegraph on June 29, 1972, which used his name to describe ‘gloom’ related to forestry. In his letter, Tolkien wrote: With reference to the Daily Telegraph of June 29th, page 18, I feel that it is unfair to use my name as an adjective qualifying ‘gloom’, especially in a context dealing with trees. In all my works I take the part of trees as against all their enemies. Lothlórien is beautiful because there the trees were loved; elsewhere forests are represented as awakening to consciousness of themselves. The Old Forest was hostile to two legged creatures because of the memory of many injuries. Fangorn Forest was old and beautiful, but at the time of the story tense with hostility because it was threatened by a machine-loving enemy. Mirkwood had fallen under the domination of a Power that hated all living things but was restored to beauty and became Greenwood the Great before the end of the story. It would be unfair to compare the Forestry Commissio n with Sauron because as you observe it is capable of repentance; but nothing it has done that is stupid compares with the destruction, torture and murder of trees perpetrated by private individuals and minor official bodies. The savage sound of the electric saw is never silent wherever trees are still found growing. 25 Tolkien viewed trees differently than most of us. While many overlook trees, seeing them merely as a green backdrop to our daily lives, Tolkien perceived them as living, breathing entities. He felt the vibrant life coursing through them, saw faces in their corrugated bark, and heard their voices... Landscape of Becky Falls waterfall in Dartmoor National Park, UK In late August 1952, Tolkien stayed with his friend George Sayer and his wife Moira in Malvern. The Sayers had read the typescript of The Lord of the Rings and encouraged Tolkien to record excerpts, which he did after jocularly reciting the Lord’s Prayer in Gothic to exorcise any ‘devils’ in the machinery. ‘It was easy to entertain Tolkien by day,’ Sayer recalled. “He and I tramped the Malvern Hills which he had often seen during his boyhood in Birmingham or from his brother’s {Hilary Tolkien} house on the other side of the Severn River valley. He lived the book { The Lord of the Rings } as we walked, sometimes comparing parts of the hills with, for instance, the White Mountains of Gondor. We drove to the Black Mountains on the borders of Wales, picked bilberries and climbed through the heather there. When he saw signs of industrial pollution he talked of orcs and orcery.” 26 The Malvern Hills from Midsummer Hill [ link ] Tolkien believed that primeval human understanding was communion with other living things 27 . Tolkien's Catholic Christian background and his deep love for natural features interact to create an ecological ethic indebted to the stewardship model, but in which humanity does not have a monopoly on stewardship, and in which the value of non-human Creation comes directly from its personhood. Finally, these central themes were adopted by the environmental and counterculture movements in the decades following the publication of The Lord of the Rings , particularly in relation to environmentalism. Frodo’s journey to Mordor with the Ring paralleled real-world activism: in 1971, a group of activists sailed to the nuclear exclusion zone in Amchitka with a copy of The Lord of the Rings aboard their boat, The Greenpeace , marking the birth of the international organization. This is just one example of Tolkien's impact on environmentalism. The nostalgia embedded throughout The Lord of the Rings provided readers in the '60s and '70s with an escape from the visible daily strife of their time, heightened by the advent of television and Technicolor. This nostalgia inspired a longing for a return to a simpler life before the strife caused by divisive lust for resources, such as colonization and the Industrial Revolution. However, the success and allure of The Lord of the Rings lay in its refusal to offer pure escapism. A sense of mission and drive pervades the books, making them relatable to readers during the counterculture movements. Tolkien’s causes resonated with them, becoming important issues in their own lives. As they are important to like-minded people to this day. Appendix I: The Difference between Shamanism, Mediumship and ‘Channeling’ Shamanism and mediumship both involve communication with the spirit world but differ significantly in their practices and intentions. A medium connects with spirits by raising their 'vibration' to communicate with deceased loved ones, providing comfort and evidence of the afterlife. This process is validated by the person receiving the reading, ensuring the medium connects with the correct spirit. In contrast, shamanism encompasses healing, manifestation, and spiritual battles. Shamans collaborate with individuals to help them heal and achieve their desires, interacting with various spirits and realms rather than focusing solely on spirits of the deceased. They operate on four levels of reality—physical, psychic, dream, and holistic—drawing energy from spirit, the earth, or the higher self to facilitate healing and transformation. Shamanism is deeply connected to nature, with shamans acting as consciousness-keepers attuned to natural signs and omens. They may use entheogens ("medicine plants") to deepen their understanding and connections with the unseen world, a practice not typically associated with mediumship. While both shamans and mediums communicate with the spirit world, their approaches and purposes differ. Shamans focus on holistic healing and manifesting positive changes through their connection with nature and various levels of reality, whereas mediums primarily provide comfort by connecting with spirits of the deceased. Despite these differences, both paths offer valuable insights and assistance. It appears that a 'Channeler' is essentially similar to a shaman but with less direct connection to Nature spirits, representing a New Age variant of shamanism. More information on the similarities and differences can be found on this Quora thread: [ link ]. NOTE: At the end of the video, Calantirniel said that in her experience, the role of a ‘Channeler’ is closer to a Medium than to a Shaman as defined in this paper. Appendix II: Neurotheology References Here are some references on neurotheology, with a particular focus on shamanism: 1. "The Spirit of Shamanism" by Roger Walsh : o This book delves into the psychological and neurological aspects of shamanic experiences, exploring how altered states of consciousness are induced and experienced by shamans. 2. "Neurotheology: Brain, Science, Spirituality, Religious Experience" by Andrew Newberg : o While this book covers a broad range of topics within neurotheology, it includes sections on the neurological basis of altered states of consciousness, which can be applied to understanding shamanic experiences. 3. "The Shamans of Prehistory: Trance and Magic in the Painted Caves" by Jean Clottes and David Lewis-Williams : o This book explores the connection between shamanic practices and ancient cave art, providing insights into the neuropsychological aspects of shamanism. 4. "Altered States of Consciousness: Experiences Out of Time and Self" edited by Marc Wittmann : o This edited volume includes various perspectives on altered states of consciousness, including chapters that touch on shamanic experiences and their neurological underpinnings. 5. "The Anthropology of Consciousness" by Charles D. Laughlin, John McManus, and Eugene G. d'Aquili : o This book integrates anthropology and neuropsychology to understand consciousness, including chapters on shamanism and the brain. 6. "Shamanism: A Biopsychosocial Paradigm of Consciousness and Healing" by Michael Winkelman : o Winkelman's work is highly regarded in the field, providing a comprehensive overview of shamanism from a biopsychosocial perspective, including detailed discussions on the neurobiological aspects of shamanic states. These references should provide a solid foundation for understanding the intersection of shamanism and neurotheology, highlighting both the theoretical and observed aspects of altered states of consciousness in shamanic practices. Recommended Works (For deeper insight into what has been discussed here): Beyer, Stephan V. Singing to the Plants: A Guide to Mestizo Shamanism in the Upper Amazon Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press, 2009. [ link ] {This book provides an in-depth guide to Mestizo shamanism in the Upper Amazon, detailing shamanic practices, healing methods, and the connection between shamans and plant spirits. It examines the importance of rituals, the use of medicinal plants, and the role of spirituality in healing. The text also explores the cultural and social context of shamanism, highlighting the influence of indigenous traditions and the impact of modern society. Additionally, it discusses the complexities of shamanic practices, the chall