There is a stereotype within the Pagan community that gets encapsulated as “Epic Wolf Shirt Guy.” It’s an extreme form of animal kinship. Epic Wolf Shirt Guy has an animal they really resonate with, usually something sort of stereotypically Pagan, hence the wolf being the prime example of this stereotype. The joke is that they own 2,327 representations of their animal, have an altar dedicated to their animal, wear clothes with dramatic art of their animal printed on them, and may in fact go by the name of their animal in Pagan circles. One of the sillier Pagan memes I’ve seen over the years was a Wicca drive through where you could order a magickal name and the top name on the menu was Raven Wolfraven.
As with many things that can seem kind of silly on the surface, if you peel back another layer, this over-the-top bond with a particular animal points to something much deeper with roots that go back beyond written records. You see, animal kinship is as old as our species. That ancient bond still bubbles up, but in the culture of the contemporary United States and other Western nations, it doesn’t always have a good channel for expression or understanding. So people with that bond end up handling that impulse through capitalism and simply buy every wolf figurine and tshirt that they see. They’re trying to address something potent and profound, but lack the cultural path that once held that connection.
So much of my work in this world has to do with connection. Some of that is helping people find spiritual practices that nourish them. Some of that is shaping and supporting human communities of like mind. And, some of that is renewing and teaching about historical practices that were shunned, suppressed, or banned in the name of creating a “civilized” society. Animal kinship falls into that latter category.
The first wound that colonization inflicts is to the colonizers. This does not outweigh or mitigate the damage done to others, but it is good to remember that this weapon of colonization wounds the wielder first. Like most white people in the United States, I am descended from colonizers. But before the concepts of manifest destiny and the subjugation of other cultures took root, my ancestors belonged to the land they lived with and the other species that lived there with them. My ancestors had practices and beliefs that supported their bond with the world they lived in. Once upon a time, all humans were indigenous to an area of land and the relationships that grew out of that ecosystem and the spirits that dwelled there. This deep form of connection, of belonging, of relationship, is part of our human history. Kinship with the nonhuman world is part of pre-conversion, pre-colonialist culture. This process whereby colonizers attempted to destroy the cultures of other parts of the world began at home. You can see it in the language used by those in power to describe the folk practices of people who lived in more rural environments during the conversion and then the early colonization period. The communities that still followed some of the pre-conversion traditions around seasonal cycles and land connectedness were described as savage, uncivilized, and stupid. The exact same language used by colonizers to describe the cultures they encountered and then attempted to eradicate while they extracted resources from those communities.
For the descendents of colonizers, the first wound was to our own cultural animism and connectedness. Sometimes I wonder who I would be and what the world would be like if I’d just been allowed to be Scottish. If my ancestors had resisted conversion and colonialism and maintained their culture and land connection. You see, our ancestors were landconnected for far longer than they were colonizers. Just to use my own bloodline as an example, Scotland is estimated to have been inhabited by humans for 12,000 years. The patterns of precolonization life were present for much longer than those of postcolonization life. We carry those instincts toward connection as a result. It’s why so many of us feel a deep longing when we learn about surviving indigenous traditions. We know, on a deep level, that there was once something like that in our own lines.
Which brings me back to the funny ways those older forms of connection remain. Animal kinship is one of the threads of land connectedness that was the hardest to break. You see, kinship is more than simple affinity. It’s more than just liking foxes or bears or hawks. It is a recognition of deep connection and resonance between ourselves and a non-human being.
One of the fun things about having a decently sized media presence is that I can ask a large group of people a question. As I was preparing for this sermon, I asked my social media audience “If you have a deep bond to a particular animal, what caused that bond? Was there a specific incident or was the feeling of kinship always present?”
I can tell when I hit a nerve by the number and intensity of responses to a question. For many people, the feeling of connection with an animal is so deeply ingrained that they do not remember when it began. Some people reported a childhood shunning of “normal” toys in favor of figurines or stuffies in the shape of their animal. It was just natural for them. For other people, the connection with a particular species began because members of that species initiated a relationship. A powerful encounter or set of encounters set off a lifelong bond.
These exact same experiences and types of connection appear in written records about lingering folk practices and pre-conversion cultures. In circumpolar cultures like those of the Sámi, the connection with bears is profound. Along with a deep kinship that manifests in many ways, people who survive an encounter with a bear are considered even more deeply bonded to that being. Survivors of bear encounters have been called on to be present during births, lending some of the strength and maternal gifts of the bear to the family having a baby. Individual encounters can cause or deepen a connection.
Throughout the world, family lines and cohabiting communities were described as descended from particular animals – bears, boars, wolves, and deer are all mentioned when referring to prominent family lines in Europe. In Latin America, the rulers of the Maya took on animal insignia. Some of the kings were credited with the power to shapeshift into the beings they were connected with. In Africa, different tribes were associated with specific animals. The Balete tribe of Botswana adopted the buffalo as their totem, symbolising their army’s strength and ability to stand united. The stories of the Balete include a tale of the buffalo protecting them from an invading force. Community and family connection can be the root of animal kinship.
In Europe, this kinship shifted from a story of origin – where a family was literally described as descended from a boar – to the display of animals on a coat of arms. Some medieval heraldry was aspirational, but some of it was simply a way to channel a longstanding kinship into something more socially acceptable. To this day, surnames that reference animals are not uncommon. We recognize the ones in English – Fox, Wolf, Bear, and Buck. But when you expand to other languages, you learn that last names referencing animals are incredibly widespread: Marshall, Howard, and Strickland are also all last names derived from animals.
Likewise, this kinship appears in our words. We describe people as “strong as a bear,” “wise as an owl,” “mischievous as a crow,” and “stubborn as an ox.”
Like so much of the ancient world, this thread of kinship lingers all around us. It is so present that we don’t even consciously notice it. As one of the threads of animism that has been the most resistant to destruction and colonization, animal kinship offers us a way to rebuild our connection to the land we live on and the species we live with.
The Unitarian Universalist value of Interdependence reminds us that humans are just one part of a vast web of connection. When we begin to truly open to the possibilities of kinship with our fellow species, we are better able to live this value in meaningful ways.
There are different paths to cultivating kinship. The first path involves recognition. Sometimes our own family trees contain the answer – a name that means a certain animal or a coat of arms back in the family line that bore the symbol of animal kinship. Sometimes our connections are more personal. Think about which animals or species you were drawn to as a child. If you went to the zoo, where did you always want to go first? Which animal stories, movies, or documentaries were most appealing to you? And, which species are most interesting to you now? Which animals, birds, or insects are the ones you stop to marvel at when you encounter them in the wild? Which of our nonhuman brethren inspire wonder or awe in you? Which do you greet when you encounter them? For example, I am crow connected. Most days when I am in my garden, the raucous calls of my local crows ring out to greet me. I always call a “good morning” back to them.
Additionally, this crow connection appears in multiple places in my life. The band I am in is called Kindred Crow. The Mystery School I teach and lead is called Blackfeather. I am known for wearing only black clothing, and for being social, loyal, mischievous, and curious – all traits shared by crows. Begin to notice where animal kinship exists in your own life.
The second path involves seeking out kinship. We may not necessarily have a strong sense of the non-humans we’re connected to. For those of us whose ancestors came to this land from elsewhere, it’s tempting to look backwards to feel kinship. However, I would argue that the path forward to a healthier relationship with our planet and fellow species is to begin where we are. To build relationships here and now with the land that we belong to today. Begin by learning about the animals, birds, and insects you see. Explore the local ecosystem, the spiritual and physical polyculture you live in. Begin to notice which species are unusually present for you and then look them up. Notice which species are still somewhat revered. Here in Western Maryland, we are blessed with an abundant ecosystem. Black bears, foxes, deer, coyotes, bobcats, hawks, owls, ravens and more grace these lands. All of these species are honored in folktales and stories, and we can learn from those stories. All of these species are fascinating and hold a powerful place in the ecosystem. The biology of our non-human family can teach us a good deal about ourselves and our relationship to the world.
Whether found through recognition or research, begin to honor your kinship. This means more than going out and buying an Epic Wolf Shirt. When we are kin to someone, we do our best to do right by them. To treat them as family. Just as we provide healthy food and safe shelter to human guests within our home, we must learn how to create hospitality with our nonhuman kin. This may mean donating to or volunteering with wild animal rehabilitation centers that support the species you’re kin to. This might mean helping clean up parts of the region that have become polluted so the species you’re connected with have safe places to live. This might mean teaching about the role of different species in the local ecosystem, or sharing the folktales and mythology your animal kin are part of.
Contemporary animism is expansive. We ground our animistic spiritual connection in the science of ecology – the understanding of the different cycles and systems we are part of. We honor the way that ecological system is contained within folk traditions, mythology, and story. And, we engage with the nonlinear and nonlogical ways of knowing. The spiritual sense of resonance, recognition, and relationship we experience with our animal kin. We then allow this combination, this interwoven tapestry of information, perspective, and connection to inspire our relationship-building. Contemporary animism is also active.
One of my favorite teachers of contemporary animism is Dr. Rune Hjarnø Rasmussen, and I will close with his words.
“Shame is part of an internalized complex of guilt, sin, forgiveness, and redemption, which is rooted in Christianity. This very legitimate emotional reaction should lead us to feelings of responsibility rather than shame. There is no forgiveness or redemption for the shame of and guilt over genocides of entire continents. But there is relation building. Built on respect, kindness, and responsibility. We CAN involve ourselves in activism, allyship, and reconciliatory projects in so many ways.”
Kinship is one of the many paths to honor a more animistic way of interacting with the world around us. It is one of the many paths of relation building open to us. Animal kinship is part of our human history, stretching back to the very dawn of our species and contained in the earliest written records of humans. It is a thread of connection that remains open to us now. As we seek to live our value of interdependence, how shall we honor this connection? And what kinships do you wish to build?
This sermon was offered at the Unitarian Universalist Church of Hagerstown on Sunday, June 29th, 2025.
If you enjoy my blogs, sermons, and articles, please consider supporting me through Patreon. Patreon is what enables me to invest time in writing, teaching and exploring the wide world of spirit. Through small monthly donations from supporters, I am able to make ends meet and devote time to this Work that would otherwise be spent at a mundane form of income generation. Here’s the link: https://www.patreon.com/glassewitchcottage
