Folklore and the Consciousness of Elemental Beings
In such landscapes, elemental beings could be perceived.

In such landscapes, elemental beings could be perceived.
When we hear the word folklore today, we often think of quaint tales invented to entertain, to stave off fear, or to add some colour to an otherwise dull life. Folklore, in this modern sense, becomes a leftover from a bygone age—a corner of imagination, nothing more. Yet if we look more carefully, both at the inner life of the human being and at the changing nature of consciousness through history, a different picture emerges.
Just as we have outward senses—sight, hearing, taste, smell, touch—so too we possess an inner field of perception. Attention can be directed inward, and images, sensations, or even whole streams of thought appear within us. This inner field does not merely reflect the outer world but plays a vital role in understanding it. Our concepts, interpretations, and meanings are shaped by how this inner world joins with the impressions of the senses.
If we learn to direct our inner gaze, we discover that perception does not end with sense-data. Thoughts can arrive as though carried in, images can stream through consciousness like a flowing river. Sometimes this happens in dreams; at other times in daydreams, reveries, or moments of inward openness. Such experiences point to a reality behind the images, a dimension from which thoughts and pictures flow into human awareness.
Modern thinking assumes that human beings of the past were much like us, only less informed. Mythology, paganism, and the beings of folklore are then explained away as inventions of fear or imagination. But historical observation shows otherwise. Consciousness itself has changed.
Earlier humanity lived in a more diffused state of awareness, less sharply outlined than ours. The world was not perceived as dead matter, but as alive, filled with divine presence. Thoughts were not seen as private possessions, but as forces moving into the soul. In this setting, dreamlike images could carry truth, and the world of nature was experienced as animated and ensouled. Folklore is not simply a record of human fancy—it is the echo of a way of perceiving that was once natural.
Because the world was felt as permeated by divine consciousness, places themselves carried character. Some sites felt warm and safe; others threatened or hostile. Where violence or low morality had prevailed, the atmosphere seemed darkened, even haunted. In such landscapes, elemental beings could be perceived. They approached when human beings were open and receptive—just as animals approach when they sense trust, and withdraw when threatened.
Over time, our nervous system, our brain, and even our soul-constitution have hardened. As a result, these beings show themselves less readily. Yet folklore preserves the memory of a world in which they were part of everyday experience—a testimony to the living relation between human beings and the more-than-human world.