In the Beginning, There Was Only Sky and Water

The Cosmic Egg had cracked open, but this brand new universe was very simple. World only consisted of opposites.

Light and dark.

Up and down.

Sky and Water.

In this realm, the gods began to form from the raw essences of life. It first there were only two gods: Perun and Veles.

Perun, God of the Sky

Perun is a pivotal diety in Slavic mythology, often associated with thunder, lightning, storms, rain, law, war, fertility, and oak trees.

Regarded as the chief god by many Slavic tribes, Perun’s imagery frequently includes weapons like axes or hammers. He is sometimes pictured riding a chariot, or taking the form of an eagle. He embodies the might of the heavens and is revered as a powerful protector and warrior. But he is also seen as fiery, quick-tempered, and rigid.

But when this story begins and the universe was new, the mighty god Perun did not have much to rule over. In the beginning, he found himself floating on a boat in a vast ocean, staring up at the empty sky. Sometimes, to alleviate his boredom, he would take the form of an eagle and soar over the waters.

But everywhere he flew, there was only sky and water, and nowhere to land except for his scanty little boat.

Veles, God of the Waters

Veles is the Slavic god of the underworld. He is the god of earth, water, forests, the underworld, music, magic, trickery, cattle, livestock, and wealth. And, yes, he is also the god of the afterlife.

Known for his shapeshifting abilities, Veles can transform into various forms, including a mighty dragon or serpent, animals (particularly cattle or sheep), and even as trees, showcasing his mastery over magic and his role as a protector of livestock. His favorite tree was the willow.

Veles was also known as being a bit of a trickster, similar to Hermes and Loki. In Slavic mythology, he often used his his cunning to prod Perun and evade his wrath.

When the world was new, Veles’s domain was everything below the water. He watched over the chaos and wildness of all the creatures of the sea. The fish and crustaceans and sea serpents, and all the wild and magical monsters that later humans would draw in unexplored corners of the map. 

And yet, when Veles looked upward toward the surface of the water, into Perun’s domain where he saw a vast expanse of nothingness, he saw potential for so much more.

The Genesis of Land

Veles swam up to the surface and approached Perun, floating in his boat.

“The world yearn for complexity,” Veles said. He proposed the creation of land, as an in-between space above the waters and beneath the sky, upon which life could grow. “But I can’t create this land myself. I will need you help.”

Perun, too, longed for more, and so he agreed to work with Veles in creating this new plane.

Veles dove down into the waters, down to the deepest, darkest depths of the sea. When he reached the bottom, he scooped a handful of sand into his mouth, and swam back up to the surface.

Up at the surface, he spit the sand into Perun’s hand, and Perun scattered the sand across the surface of the sea.

Where the sand hit the water, land formed.

How the Land Grew

The first patch of land was very small. Barely big enough for the two gods to stand on, side by side.

They began to argue over who would be in control of this land. Soon, the gods were pushing and shoving each other, fighting for more room. Veles pushed Perun. Perun shoved Veles back.

Veles tried to toss Perun down into the water, but everywhere Perun stepped, the land extended beneath him. He was the god of the over-world and could not be drowned. Perun changed into a bird and tried to carry Veles up into the sky so that he could drop him. But Veles was the god of the underworld and could not be lifted without his consent. Everywhere he stepped, the land extended beneath him, because he, too, had had a hand in its creation.

After age of fighting, the two gods paused for breath. When they looked around, they saw that the land had extended around them as far as the eye could see. They realized that there was now plenty of land for the both of them to share.

And in the place where the first land had been created, there grew an immense oak tree that extended up to the heavens and down into the soil. This was the tree of life, the world tree.

The two gods agreed to make a temporary peace. 

Perun created an eagle, which flew him up to the very top of the world tree, a place he called Prawia, which was a place of gods and spirits yet to be born.

Veles created a dragon-serpent called Zmej, and the two of them burrowed down to the upside-down world among the roots of the world tree, where Veles made himself a throne of gold, and Zmey curled among the tree roots in a nest of wool. In this place, they created a paradise of the souls of the dead.

Each god had retreated to their own kingdoms, one above and one below.

Life Hatched From a Firebird’s Egg

Perun, up in the sky, looked dow at the barren landscape and felt profound sadness at its emptiness. From his height, Perun could see the vast complexities of life in the oceans and in the soil—in Veles’s domain—and felt envy. He would not be outdone by Veles. He wished for the same richness of life to exist on the surface of the earth.

Up in the land of Prawia, Perun met with the other gods to seek their council.

It was believed that Perun’s parents were Svarog and Łada, who were believed to be the first two gods to have formed from the cosmic egg. Svarog was the god of fire and blacksmithing. Łada was the goddess of love, marriage, beauty, and joy.

And Rod, god of newborn souls, of family, kinship, and birth. He was a gardener, tending the upper branches of the World Tree, where new souls were born.

With their help, Perun, conjured a golden bird that glowed so brightly it looked as if it had been made from fire. Indeed, it was made of fire. This magical bird has often been imagined as the first firebird, the phoenix, a creature with the ability to create itself anew from the ashes of its former self.

Perun, Łada, Svarog, and Rod sent the bird down to the barren landscape. The rooster laid an egg, which cracked on the dry landscape. The egg whites oozed over the surface of the shell, and wherever it touched the land, a river sprang up from the soil, bringing fresh water all across the land. From the golden yellow yolk of the egg, all other forms of life emerged. Vast, golden fields of wheat and grass spread across the land. Animals emerged to eat the wheat. Humans emerged to tend the wheat and the animals.

And from the yoke, a new god emerged. The goddess Mokosh, diety of the earth and the fields, of fertility, fecundity, spinning, and everything having to do with women and childbirth.

She was beautiful and and so enchanting that both Perun and Veles fell in love.

But that’s another story for another day.

To explore more tales from the Slavic pantheon please consider signing up to for my Reader’s Club newsletter to receive monthly writing updates, book reviews, and notifications about more blog posts like this one.

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UPDATE — This blog post includes text and images generated with the assistance of OpenAI’s models. I provided detailed prompts, curated the outputs, and made edits, but the majority of the content was created with AI assistance. This disclosure aligns with my commitment to transparency under the EU AI Act. Disclosure added on November 18, 2024 to align with transparency requirements under the EU AI Act.

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International License. Portions of this content were generated using OpenAI’s models, with significant curation, editing, and creative input by E. S. O. Martin. AI-generated portions may not be subject to copyright under current laws.

After the Cosmic Egg hatched and have birth to the universe, a vast tree began to grow. While the Cosmic Egg initiated creation, the World Tree organized the universe’s structure. 

While you may be familiar with Yggdrasil, the World Tree from Norse Mythology, the Tree of Life in Slavic Mythology was said to be a colossal, sacred oak tree with that not only spanned the cosmos, but also served as a metaphor for understanding one’s place in time, and our connection to past and future generations.

Trees were holy to the Slavs. Oak trees in particular were seen as holy representatives of the World Tree. The oak tree was where people celebrated, prayed, and worshipped. If they wanted to talk to their ancestors, they would lean against an oak tree and speak to it.

Roots in the Underworld, the Land of Nawia

The roots of the tree also represented the past. All the ancestors and past generations — their triumphs and struggles — lay rooted in the soil, bringing nourishment and stability to the present.

According to some interpretations, the Slavic land of the dead was a place called Nav, or Nawia. Nawia was a paradise—a vast grassy field surrounded by water, and with a wetland near the center where Veles, god of the underworld, had his throne among the roots of the world tree.

Veles was the god and guardian of earth, water, forests, livestock, wealth, magic, music, and the underworld. Unlike the Greek god of the underworld, Hades, Veles was seen as a fundamentally kind and just god who was revered for his care of everything under the sky.

In folk art, a coiled snake or dragon is often painted among the roots of the World Tree. While this may be reminiscent of the Midgard serpent, in Slavic mythology, this serpent-dragon was one of the forms that the Slavic god Veles would take.

To reach Nawia, the souls of the dead might wander the Earth as bird for up to forty days. After this, they would cross through an underwater portal and over a bridge, guarded Veles’s dragon, Zmej, whose job it was to keep demons and bad spirits out of the paradise that was Nawia

The Slavs believed that at certain times of year, the souls of their ancestors could transform into birds and fly to the land of the living to visit their descendants.

Yawia, The Trunk: The World Stage of Present Time

The trunk of the World Tree stands firmly on the earthly plane, bridging the gap between the heavens and the underworld. It symbolizes strength, growth, and the everyday world we inhabit. The trunk is where the physical and spiritual meet, reminding us that we live in a world that is both material and spiritual.

The present plane of existence was called Yav, or Yawia. In the present period of time, the Slavs believed the world was filled with all manor of creatures. There were humans and animals, but also supernatural beings, such as spirits and demons—the later of which were believed to be humans who had either lived unnatural lives or died unnatural deaths. The present time was the stage where the action took place. All eyes were on the present, both the ancestors of the past, and the souls yet to be born.

The trunk, or stem, of the tree also represents the axis point between past and future. We are the actors on the world stage today. Our existence is the culmination of the hopes and dreams of past generations, and we are also the funnel through which time flows, so that our actions will also affect future generations.

In Slavic and Baltic folk art, you will often see a woman in traditional dress standing near the trunk of the World Tree. This is Mokosh, the Mother Earth goddess. She is the guardian of life, of fertility, of the harvest, of childbirth, of weaving, of fate, and of sexuality. She nourishes, nurtures. She creates and sustains. It is said that both Veles, god of the underworld, and Perun, god of the sky, were her consorts. From her union with these two gods, she gave birth to the twin gods of the seasons. Jarilo is the god of spring and agriculture; Marzanna is the goddess of winter and witchcraft.

Prawia: Branches Reaching the Heavens, Toward the Future

Soaring high into the sky, the branches of the World Tree touch the heavens, home to gods, celestial beings, and the spirits of future generations. These branches represent our highest aspirations, dreams, and the divine. A new soul could spring from one of the branches of the World Tree, like a blossom.

As we look up past the leaves of our ancestral oak tree to the Milky Way above—which were believed to be one of the far away branches of the cosmic World Tree—they remind us of our connection to the greater universe and the cycle of life that will continue beyond our earthly existence.

In Slavic art, you will often see an eagle perched among the branches of the World Tree. The eagle is the symbol of Perun, who was the god of the sky, lightning, thunder, war, justice, and everything having to do with the sky. If Veles was the god of everything down below, Perun was the god of everything up above.

The World Tree in Daily Life

The World Tree remains a powerful symbol today, inspiring environmental awareness and a sense of global connectedness. It reminds us that we are part of a larger ecosystem, and that the drama of life is bigger than just our one, small part.

The World Tree’s symbolism extends beyond mythology into the daily lives and rituals of Slavic and Baltic peoples. It’s symbolism is frequently seen in folk art, carved into furniture, painted on the sides of buildings, and embroidered into traditional clothes.

The Tree of Life is a living symbol that serves as a reminder of our connection to the earth, the divine, and each other.

If you are interested in hearing more about the Slavic gods Mokosh, Veles, and Perun, and their children, check out the rest of my “Slavic Spirits” series. Also, consider signing up for my Reader’s Club newsletter. You’ll receive monthly updates of my works in progress, book reviews, and a free short story.

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UPDATE — This blog post includes text and images generated with the assistance of OpenAI’s models. I provided detailed prompts, curated the outputs, and made edits, but the majority of the content was created with AI assistance. This disclosure aligns with my commitment to transparency under the EU AI Act. Disclosure added on November 18, 2024 to align with transparency requirements under the EU AI Act.

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International License. Portions of this content were generated using OpenAI’s models, with significant curation, editing, and creative input by E. S. O. Martin. AI-generated portions may not be subject to copyright under current laws.

Among the Slavs, there are a variety of creation myths. One of them is of the Cosmic Egg, which represents the potential for life and the genesis of all we know.

The Cosmic Egg: A Universe Waiting to Hatch

Our story begins with a void—a vast expanse of nothingness where the seeds of the universe lays dormant. Within this primordial emptiness, a miracle occurred. An egg formed, and within this egg lay the seeds of all creation. It held the raw materials and forces necessary for the birth of the cosmos.

The Egg Cracks Open and a Universe is Born

The moment the Cosmic Egg cracks open marks the Slavic mythological equivalent of the Big Bang. As the egg’s shell fractured, it didn’t merely break apart; it gave structure the the chaos within.

The upper fragment of the shell ascended to form the heavens, like a vast dome across the sky.

The bottom part of the shell formed the Earth—a vast cradle that held all the mountains, valleys, rivers, oceans, and plains.

The Egg and Slavic Spirituality

The egg is a powerful symbol in many cultures. For the Slavs, it the egg was seen as both the beginning and the container of life, its breaking open was a metaphor for the sometimes chaotic process of creation. The belief that the upper shell contained the sky and the bottom shell contained the earth mirrors the dualistic nature of the world, where balance was achieved by the interplay of opposing forces.

Life and Humankind Sprung From a Rooster’s Egg

One of the myths about the creation of life in that when the universe was first created, it was completely barren. The gods wished for there to be more, so they send down a rooster which lay an egg of immense power. (Roosters don’t lay eggs, but whatever. We’re talking magical creation myths here, so there doesn’t have to be any logic.)

This egg cracked open and its golden yoke spread across the land. Everywhere the yoke touched, life sprang forth. A vast diversity of rivers, mountains, plants, animals, and humans arose from this golden yoke.

Faberge and Pisanki Easter Eggs: Modern Celebrations of the Cosmic Egg

The Cosmic Egg has remained an important symbol in Slavic culture. Its enduring legacy is most visible today in traditions and customs surrounding Easter Eggs, where Christian and pagan beliefs have blended.

In Slavic cultures, there is a long tradition of dying and decorating eggs in the spring that pre-dates Christianity. Archaeologists have found decorate clay and egg-shaped stones that date back to the 10th and 13th centuries, but the tradition of dying and decorating spring eggs is speculated to be at least a thousand years old.

There are many methods of decorating eggs, from pickling, to using wax and dyes, to watercolors, to oil paints, to removing the yoke and creating an egg-shell masterpiece by carefully breaking away parts of the shell so that it resembles lace.

The gold and silver Faberge eggs of Imperial Russia are perhaps the most famous decorated eggs.

I remember every Easter, there was a great deal of ceremony around placed around dying our “pisanki” Easter eggs. 

First, the eggs would be hardboiled. Then, my grandmother would fill a vast pot with beets, red onions, and berries to dye the eggshells red. The eggs would be set aside to dry and cool. Then, we would use a sewing needle to scratch designs into the shell of the egg, which created white lines on a red background. We would draw geometric designs, and sometimes floral and tree patterns—symbolizing the World Tree, the rebirth of spring. By the end of this egg-decorating process, our fingers would all be stained red from handling the eggs.

Our spectacular designs did not last long, though, for these beautiful creations were intended for our traditional Polish Easter breakfast. (If you are planning on eating the eggs, it is very important to only use non-toxic, natural dyes.) We would pass around the basket of colorful eggs, each and break them apart, and eat them with salt and horseradish, nourishing our bodies with this vessel of life—a symbol of spring, of renewal, of the Cosmic Egg.

If you would like to stay up to date on my Slavic Spirits blog series, feel free to sign up for my Reader’s Club newsletter. You will also receive updates every month or so on my works in progress.

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UPDATE — This blog post includes text and images generated with the assistance of OpenAI’s models. I provided detailed prompts, curated the outputs, and made edits, but the majority of the content was created with AI assistance. This disclosure aligns with my commitment to transparency under the EU AI Act. Disclosure added on November 18, 2024 to align with transparency requirements under the EU AI Act.

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International License. Portions of this content were generated using OpenAI’s models, with significant curation, editing, and creative input by E. S. O. Martin. AI-generated portions may not be subject to copyright under current laws.