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Mountain Stories
The Northern Lights have captivated humanity throughout the ages. Before modern science could explain particle storms and magnetic fields, people turned to folklore, myths, and religion to understand the shimmering light in the sky. And perhaps one day, modern science and folklore will complement each other’s theories to a greater extent than they do today. One thing is certain: it is hard not to feel a sense of wonder when you see the Northern Lights dancing across the sky.
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The Sami People
Sápmi – The whispering light that demands silence
Come along to the sami hut on this winter night…
The inside of the sami hut smells of smoke, dried reindeer meat, and damp birch wood. Outside, the arctic night is so cold that the snow crunches like glass beneath your leather boots. You pull your scarf tighter around your neck and look up. There it is. The glow.
It begins as a pale white streak, which slowly transforms into a green band that gradually makes its way across the mountain peaks, but suddenly there’s a crackle. Violet and glowing fringes whip across the sky. It looks as if it’s moving in time with a sound that the ears can barely make out—a hissing, whispering sound.
You feel a shiver run down your spine and immediately remember the elders’ warnings. You quickly lower your hand, hide your fingers in your coat, and hush the child who was just about to yell out in wonder. You hold your breath. It is the ancestors moving up there. Those who have left this earthly life now watch over the reindeer herds and over you, but they will not tolerate disrespect. In the total, frozen silence, you stand motionless, your heart pounding, showing your reverence for the mighty light of the sky until the waves slowly subside.
Background to Sápmi folklore of northern lights:
For the Sámi, guovssahas (”the light that can be heard”) was a powerful, living being, closely connected to the souls of their ancestors. It demanded absolute reverence. To challenge the light by making noise, whistling, or pointing was life-threatening—for then the light could come down and take you away.
The inside of the sami hut smells of smoke, dried reindeer meat, and damp birch wood. Outside, the arctic night is so cold that the snow crunches like glass beneath your leather boots. You pull your scarf tighter around your neck and look up. There it is. The glow.
It begins as a pale white streak, which slowly transforms into a green band that gradually makes its way across the mountain peaks, but suddenly there’s a crackle. Violet and glowing fringes whip across the sky. It looks as if it’s moving in time with a sound that the ears can barely make out—a hissing, whispering sound.
You feel a shiver run down your spine and immediately remember the elders’ warnings. You quickly lower your hand, hide your fingers in your coat, and hush the child who was just about to yell out in wonder. You hold your breath. It is the ancestors moving up there. Those who have left this earthly life now watch over the reindeer herds and over you, but they will not tolerate disrespect. In the total, frozen silence, you stand motionless, your heart pounding, showing your reverence for the mighty light of the sky until the waves slowly subside.
Background to Sápmi folklore of northern lights:
For the Sámi, guovssahas (”the light that can be heard”) was a powerful, living being, closely connected to the souls of their ancestors. It demanded absolute reverence. To challenge the light by making noise, whistling, or pointing was life-threatening—for then the light could come down and take you away.
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The Vikings
The North – The Valkyries’ shining armor on its way to Valhalla
Come along to the longhouse by the fjord…
Mead has been flowing in the longhouse, and outside, the fire in the cooking pit has died down and frost has settled on the wooden shields leaning against the outer wall. You step out into the crisp, dark air to take a deep breath. When you look up at the stars, your eyes widen.
The sky is ablaze. It is not the gentle light of summer, but a flickering, pulsating glow of vivid green and silver that cuts through the darkness like freshly sharpened steel. You take a firmer grip at the axe in your belt, and watch as the light shifts, rising and falling at a frenzied, rhythmic pace.
It’s the Valkyries. You can almost hear the horses’ hooves on the invisible bridge Bifrost. What you see is the glint of their shields and spears as they ride at full gallop across space. A wave of awe and battle fervor washes over your body. The gods are near. The cosmic army moves overhead, and you know that if your time comes on the battlefield tomorrow, it is in that radiant glow that you will ride home to Valhalla.
Background to Viking folklore of northern lights:
In Viking norse folklore, the northern lights were seen as an echo from the realm of the highest gods. The most vivid tale tells of the Valkyries—Odin’s warrior maidens—whose armor glistened and lit up the night sky as they rode out to gather the bravest fallen warriors for the hall of Valhalla. The Vikings rarely lived as far north as here in Björkliden, and the northern lights are rarely mentioned in direct written sources from the viking era. This might be because the aurora belt lay farther north than where most Vikings lived during the time of the Eddaic poetry.
Mead has been flowing in the longhouse, and outside, the fire in the cooking pit has died down and frost has settled on the wooden shields leaning against the outer wall. You step out into the crisp, dark air to take a deep breath. When you look up at the stars, your eyes widen.
The sky is ablaze. It is not the gentle light of summer, but a flickering, pulsating glow of vivid green and silver that cuts through the darkness like freshly sharpened steel. You take a firmer grip at the axe in your belt, and watch as the light shifts, rising and falling at a frenzied, rhythmic pace.
It’s the Valkyries. You can almost hear the horses’ hooves on the invisible bridge Bifrost. What you see is the glint of their shields and spears as they ride at full gallop across space. A wave of awe and battle fervor washes over your body. The gods are near. The cosmic army moves overhead, and you know that if your time comes on the battlefield tomorrow, it is in that radiant glow that you will ride home to Valhalla.
Background to Viking folklore of northern lights:
In Viking norse folklore, the northern lights were seen as an echo from the realm of the highest gods. The most vivid tale tells of the Valkyries—Odin’s warrior maidens—whose armor glistened and lit up the night sky as they rode out to gather the bravest fallen warriors for the hall of Valhalla. The Vikings rarely lived as far north as here in Björkliden, and the northern lights are rarely mentioned in direct written sources from the viking era. This might be because the aurora belt lay farther north than where most Vikings lived during the time of the Eddaic poetry.
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The Inuit
Alaska's ice fields – The wild play of the spirits
Come along onto the frozen ice of the sea…
You stand at the very edge of the ice, surrounded by endless, white darkness. The sea has fallen silent, completely frozen solid under winter’s cold grip. Your sealskin parka keeps the biting wind at bay, and beside you, the sled dogs pant in the cold air.
Suddenly, the sky above the ice comes to life. It is not a steady light, it moves in rapid, unpredictable jerks. Green and white flashes of light dance back and forth across the stars, rush in one direction, turn abruptly, and spread out across the horizon.
A smile spreads across your lips in the midst of the cold. It’s not a frightening darkness—it’s a celebration. You see your ancestors before you. You see them laughing, running, and dashing through the night in a wild and joyful soccer match on the sky’s endless field. The flickering glow comes from their swift feet and movements. In the midst of the barren, arctic winter, you feel a deep warmth in your chest: the dead are doing well, and they invite you to watch their play—you no longer feel alone.
Background on the Inuit’s folklore regarding the Northern Lights:
Among the Inuit of northern Alaska, the Northern Lights were a place of joy and fellowship after death. It was believed that the souls of those who had passed on lived a good life in the heavens and often gathered to play their favorite game: soccer with a walrus skull.
You stand at the very edge of the ice, surrounded by endless, white darkness. The sea has fallen silent, completely frozen solid under winter’s cold grip. Your sealskin parka keeps the biting wind at bay, and beside you, the sled dogs pant in the cold air.
Suddenly, the sky above the ice comes to life. It is not a steady light, it moves in rapid, unpredictable jerks. Green and white flashes of light dance back and forth across the stars, rush in one direction, turn abruptly, and spread out across the horizon.
A smile spreads across your lips in the midst of the cold. It’s not a frightening darkness—it’s a celebration. You see your ancestors before you. You see them laughing, running, and dashing through the night in a wild and joyful soccer match on the sky’s endless field. The flickering glow comes from their swift feet and movements. In the midst of the barren, arctic winter, you feel a deep warmth in your chest: the dead are doing well, and they invite you to watch their play—you no longer feel alone.
Background on the Inuit’s folklore regarding the Northern Lights:
Among the Inuit of northern Alaska, the Northern Lights were a place of joy and fellowship after death. It was believed that the souls of those who had passed on lived a good life in the heavens and often gathered to play their favorite game: soccer with a walrus skull.
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The Cree people
Canada's forests – The great creator's campfire
Come along to the quiet pine forests of North America…
The scent of spruce needles and damp moss hangs heavy in the air. You’re sitting at the edge of a mirror-like forest lake, surrounded by ancient trees whose tops reach toward the cosmos. Everything is silent, except for an owl hooting in the distance.
Then the surface of the lake begins to shimmer. You look up and see veils of soft, shimmering light moving majestically across the sky. It’s as if someone had draped the sky in the finest, luminous fabrics that slowly billow in an invisible breeze.
You feel a deep, unwavering calm spread through your body. It is Nanahbozho who has lit his great fire in the north. You can picture the sparks and smoke from his gigantic campfire rising up and coloring the night. The fire burns to remind you, your people, and all the animals of the forest that you are never abandoned. The wavering green curtains are the spirits of the elders who have begun their dance around the fire. You close your eyes for a brief second, breathe in the fresh forest air, and feel completely safe under the Creator’s watchful gaze.
Background on the Cree people’s folklore regarding the Northern Lights:
The Cree people of the deep North American forests of Canada held a deeply hopeful belief. To them, the Northern Lights were Wawatay—the dance of the spirits. They also believed that the light came from the great creator and cultural hero Nanahbozho, who had moved to the far north and lit enormous campfires to bring home the souls of his children and show that he was watching over them.
The scent of spruce needles and damp moss hangs heavy in the air. You’re sitting at the edge of a mirror-like forest lake, surrounded by ancient trees whose tops reach toward the cosmos. Everything is silent, except for an owl hooting in the distance.
Then the surface of the lake begins to shimmer. You look up and see veils of soft, shimmering light moving majestically across the sky. It’s as if someone had draped the sky in the finest, luminous fabrics that slowly billow in an invisible breeze.
You feel a deep, unwavering calm spread through your body. It is Nanahbozho who has lit his great fire in the north. You can picture the sparks and smoke from his gigantic campfire rising up and coloring the night. The fire burns to remind you, your people, and all the animals of the forest that you are never abandoned. The wavering green curtains are the spirits of the elders who have begun their dance around the fire. You close your eyes for a brief second, breathe in the fresh forest air, and feel completely safe under the Creator’s watchful gaze.
Background on the Cree people’s folklore regarding the Northern Lights:
The Cree people of the deep North American forests of Canada held a deeply hopeful belief. To them, the Northern Lights were Wawatay—the dance of the spirits. They also believed that the light came from the great creator and cultural hero Nanahbozho, who had moved to the far north and lit enormous campfires to bring home the souls of his children and show that he was watching over them.
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The Māori
New Zealand: Signals from the frozen south
Come along to the beach on the southern coast…
The waves crash rhythmically against the dark sandy beach, and the warm sea breeze carries the scent of salt and seaweed. You stand with your feet at the water’s edge, gazing out over the empty, endless sea to the south—the direction from which no boats usually return.
But tonight, the horizon has changed. Far off in the distance, where the sea meets the sky, a deep red and violet glow suddenly flares up. It spreads like a glowing wildfire across the night sky and tints the foam on the waves with shades of pink.
You take a step back into the sand, filled with awe. This is Tahu-nui-a-rangi—the great heavenly fire. You know exactly what it means. These are your brave ancestors, the great navigators who sailed their canoes far beyond the edge of the world to the frozen land in the south. They have lit their most powerful fires on the ice. The light that colors the night is their greeting to you across the sea. They live on, they remember you, and through the glow of the fire, they have built a bridge of light between their frozen world and your warm shore.
Background on the Māori Folklore Regarding the Northern Lights:
In the Southern Hemisphere, the phenomenon is called the Southern Lights (Aurora Australis). The Māori, who have navigated the great oceans for generations, believed that the light came from enormous bonfires lit by their ancestors. Their ancestors had sailed far, far south in their canoes and become trapped in the ice, and the fires were a way to send signals to their relatives back home.
The waves crash rhythmically against the dark sandy beach, and the warm sea breeze carries the scent of salt and seaweed. You stand with your feet at the water’s edge, gazing out over the empty, endless sea to the south—the direction from which no boats usually return.
But tonight, the horizon has changed. Far off in the distance, where the sea meets the sky, a deep red and violet glow suddenly flares up. It spreads like a glowing wildfire across the night sky and tints the foam on the waves with shades of pink.
You take a step back into the sand, filled with awe. This is Tahu-nui-a-rangi—the great heavenly fire. You know exactly what it means. These are your brave ancestors, the great navigators who sailed their canoes far beyond the edge of the world to the frozen land in the south. They have lit their most powerful fires on the ice. The light that colors the night is their greeting to you across the sea. They live on, they remember you, and through the glow of the fire, they have built a bridge of light between their frozen world and your warm shore.
Background on the Māori Folklore Regarding the Northern Lights:
In the Southern Hemisphere, the phenomenon is called the Southern Lights (Aurora Australis). The Māori, who have navigated the great oceans for generations, believed that the light came from enormous bonfires lit by their ancestors. Their ancestors had sailed far, far south in their canoes and become trapped in the ice, and the fires were a way to send signals to their relatives back home.