Category Archives: Faith and Spirituality

The Inner Journey

Winter                                                            Seed Catalog Moon

At Michaelmas the soul turns inward, following the darker path occasioned by the rising length of the night and the dwindling of the day.  By Samhain that turn is well underway and the work of the study gains dominance as the outdoor work diminishes like the sunlight.  At the Winter Solstice the deep center of the interior work has been reached. The work of the interior fully alive.

Now in the New Year that darkness nourishes writing, translating, creation of new projects.  And, too, a portion of the soul begins to move outward, gathering in the seed catalogs, plotting the garden yet to be.

These two movements, inward and outward, reinforce or provoke our natural tendencies. Those of us on the introverted side welcome the coming of the dark, the movement down the corridors leading away from the light.  The extroverts gladly follow the sun up those same corridors, headed toward the day.

The turning of the Great Wheel does not allow us to become too comfortable in either spot, reminding us throughout the year that both the interior and the exterior are important; that both have their nuances and richness.

Some of us will continue to wander those labyrinths within even as the Summer Solstice dawns, while others even now see the rays of sun bouncing off the labyrinth’s walls.

(hades and persephone)

Ancientrails The GreatWheel

Winter                                                       New Seed Catalog Moon

I’ve begun to mull a second blog, one that would focus on the Greatwheel, dividing its posts into 8 seasons:  Samhain, Winter, Imbolc, Spring, Summer, Lughnasa, Fall and Samhain.

Over the course of those seasons I would write a beginning piece for the season as I do now on Ancientrails, but then continue through that season posting thematically about the season, holidays in that time period, special days of the year, phrenology, gardening, environmental and climate matters, probably some astronomy and archaeo-astronomy.  I would include myths pertinent to the season, too.  Perhaps some I’ve translated from the Latin.

This appeals to me because I’ve tried to lever myself into a theological treatise on the my neopagan faith, but the idea has never taken off.  I think the notion is too abstract and the fact of this tactile, coarse spirituality, one that gets its hands dirty as an act of devotion, lends itself better to this kind of over the course of the year exposition.

Any feedback anyone might have would be welcome.  Ancientrails would continue. It’s a well ingrained habit at this point.  If I decide to start, Imbolc, February 1st, would be a good time.

Happy New Year

Winter                                                               New (Seed Catalog) Moon

Years have come and gone, slipping off into the neurons, their impressions there more and less faint, our only confidence that other years, other days have happened.  We tend to peg our memories by the year Kennedy was shot, or when we landed on the moon, or when Nixon resigned.  The year the Twins won the World Series.  The year Sorsha brought in a woodchuck.  That honeymoon through Europe, following spring north.  The year mom died.

(time is cyclical)

What I mean to say here is that our lives, the years of lives, are re-experienced episodically and briefly.  They have to be.  What would it serve us if our memories were perfect records which required an equivalent amount of time to remember as they did to experience?

But this brings up then the fatal flaw of memory.  It’s not really a memory as in a mental snapshot of an event accurately recorded and recalled when needed. No, memories tend to cluster around emotions, emotions that highlight certain aspects of an event and downplay or suppress others.

What is memory for?  I mean from an evolutionary perspective.  It allows us to recall dangers.  Don’t walk in the bush at night because a predator might get you.  Opportunities. When the snows leave and the air warms, let’s head to that particular valley because the game is plentiful there and we can dig roots.  Others. That’s my mom and dad.  There’s my brother and sister.  Over on the other side of the fire is a person you want to stay away from.

Memories, interestingly, are always in the present, that’s the only time they can be experienced, so the past is only ever real in the present.  And it is present in shards of defective recollections.

Here’s something I’ve not been able to figure out.  Time, at least as we commonly use the term, seems to run in a linear fashion, time’s arrow some folks call it.  It moves, in this understanding, only forward.  Hence the new year and all its possibility and potential. Time has not been there yet, so it’s an open field of action.  We have not  yet committed any acts in 2014.

Yet.  The markers that we use for time, the day and the year in particular, are borne of cyclical time.  The day comes from a revolution of the earth, a repetitive motion that moves neither forward nor backwards.  The year marks a revolution of the earth’s around the sun.  The end of a year and the start of a new year finds us speeding back toward the spots we encountered last year, the Zodiac, for instance.

Yes, it’s true that these times are neither constant nor exactly repeated since the our solar system itself is dynamic and our planet wobbles, but this does not bother the essential point here, that we use for what we insist on calling linear time, cyclical measurements.

In other words it would make just as much sense to say, Happy New Year.  That is, yes, it’s a New Year and that’s the end of it.  The last trip is finished and the next one begun, but there’s no real reason to count them.  We’ve not gotten further along than we did last year, in fact, right now we’re back where we started.

This is just to say that 2014 and January 1st are conventions.  This may not be important at all, but I think the whole linear notion of time makes an afterlife seem significant when it’s not.  I think the whole linear notion of time forces us to imagine an arrow not only to time, but to history, and in so doing seek cause and effect where there is none.  I think the whole linear notion of time makes aging seem like an end when really it’s only part of an ongoing process.

So, what I’ll say is Happy New Year.  Again.

2014 Intentions

Winter                                                         New (Seed Catalog) Moon
Having presented a prod toward humility and non-attachment here are some of my intentions and hopes for the New Year:

1.  A healthy and joyful family (including the dogs)

2. Sell Missing

3. Have substantial work done on Loki’s Children

4. Translate at least book one and two of Ovid’s Metamorphoses

5. Have a productive garden and orchard, beautiful flowers

6. Host a Beltane and a Samhain bonfire to open and close the growing season

7. Establish a new beeyard and have a decent honey harvest

8. Have a new and consistent way to include art in my life

9. Consider a new blog focused solely on the Great Wheel and the Great Work

10. Feed the autodidact with a few more MOOCs

Non-attachment

IMAG1311Winter                   New(Seed Catalog) Moon

Seed companies know the gardener’s heart.  After the big push through the major holidays and cold and snow, a gardener’s thoughts turn toward spring and the garden yet to be. The seed folk know and they send their multi-colored catalogs filled with new possibilities and old surety’s.

A new one came the other day from Territorial Seeds in Oregon.  It has an interesting format and varieties I’ve not seen before.  Getting these catalogs has made me think about the New Year since one clear intention (not a resolution) for 2014 involves the garden.  That intention is to give this new garden, a fresh opportunity to learn and practice, the very best care I can.  It includes, too, planning it to fit our anticipated needs, both for eating immediately and for stores in the pantry.

All of which led me to the photograph posted above.  It’s a long distance shot with my cell phone so it’s not the greatest resolution, but can you see the white shape in the distance beyond the Norway pine?  That is an observatory.  I’ve mentioned it before, our neighbor built it to house his Celestron.  A number of us, maybe 20, gathered one evening and under his careful guidance, lifted the movable dome off his garage floor and carried it a hundred feet plus and set it on the rollers of the observatory’s circular base.  A party was held which celebrated the achievement of this amateur architect.

I believe he had one season of use from it.  Then the M.S. came.  This was five or six years ago and that observatory rests out there still, waiting for the man who can no longer come and make it real. The observatory reminds me of a parable in Luke:

Then he told them a parable: “The land of a rich man produced abundantly. 17 And he thought to himself, ‘What should I do, for I have no place to store my crops?’ 18 Then he said, ‘I will do this: I will pull down my barns and build larger ones, and there I will store all my grain and my goods. 19 And I will say to my soul, Soul, you have ample goods laid up for many years; relax, eat, drink, be merry.’ 20 But God said to him, ‘You fool! This very night your life is being demanded of you. And the things you have prepared, whose will they be?”  Luke 12:16-20

(The Parable of the Rich Fool byRembrandt, 1627)

Both the observatory and the rich man’s barns seem pertinent at New Years.  In the first instance they remind us that our plans can be nullified in an instant.  We know this of course but sometimes it helps to have concrete reminders.

More to the point are two lessons.  The first is to be humble in what you expect.  This does not mean don’t hope for great things, just remember that life may bend otherwise.  The second, very much related to the first, is don’t allow your hopes to ensnare you, to make you captive to them.  If you become ensnared, losing something hoped for can crash your world.  If you hold it lightly, you can continue, change direction or start over.

 

 

2013: Second Quarter

Winter                                                            Winter Moon

The first day of the second quarter, April 1st, is Stefan’s birthday and was a gathering of the Woolly’s at the Red Stag.  I made this note: “Here we are seen by each other.  Our deep existence comes with us, no need for the chit-chat and polite conversation of less intimate gatherings.  The who that I am within my own container and the who that I am in the outer world come the closest to congruence at Woolly meetings, a blessed way of being exceeded only in my relationship with Kate.”

The “doing work only I can do” thought kept returning, getting refined: “With writing, Latin and art I have activities that call meaning forward, bringing it into my life on a daily basis, and not only brought forward, but spun into new colors and patterns.” april 2 On the 13th this followed:  “Why is doing work only I can do important to me?  Mortality.  Coming at me now faster than ever.  Within this phase of my whole life for sure.  Individuation.  It’s taken a long time to get clear about who and what I’m for, what I’m good at and not good at.  Now’s the time to concentrate that learning, deepen it.”

The best bee year we’ve had started on April 16th with discovering the death of the colony I thought would survive.  While moving and cleaning the hive boxes, I wrenched back and the pain stayed with me.  That same day the Boston Marathon bombing happened.  In addition to other complicated feelings this simple one popped up:  “The most intense part of my initial reaction came when I realized what those feelings meant, the emptiness and the sadness and the vacuum.  They meant I am an American.  That this event was about us, was done to us.”

Another theme of this quarter would be my shoulder, perhaps a rotator cuff tear, perhaps nerve impingement caused by arthritis in my cervical vertebrae.  Maybe some post-polio misalignment.  But over the course of the quarter with a good physical therapist it healed nicely.

Kate went on a long trip to Denver, driving, at this time, for Gabe and Ruth’s birthdays. While she was out there teaching Ruth to sew, Ruth asked her, “Why did you become a doctor instead of a professional sewer?”  When Kate is gone, the medical intelligence of our house declines precipitously.  That means doggy events can be more serious.

Kona developed a very high fever and I had to take her to the emergency vet.  She had a nodule on her right shoulder which we identified as cancerous.  This meant she had to have it removed.  At this point I was moving her (a light dog at maybe 40 pounds) in and out of the Rav4 with some difficulty because of my back.

This was the low point of the year as Kona’s troubles and my back combined to create a CBE (1)dark inner world.  The day I picked Kona up from the Vet after her surgery was cold and icy, but my bees had come in and I had to go out to Stillwater to get them, then see my analyst, John Desteian.  That day was the nadir.  I was in pain and had to go through a lot of necessary tasks in sloppy slippery weather.  That week Mark Odegard sent me this photograph from a while ago Woolly Retreat.

By the end of the month though Kate was back and April 27th:  “Yes!  Planted under the planting moon…”

For a long time I had wanted to apply my training in exegesis and hermeneutics to art and in this time period I decided to do it.  In the course of researching this idea I found I was about 50 years late since the Frankfurt School philosophers, among them, Gadamer and Adorno, had done just that.  Still, I patted myself on the back for having thought along similar lines.

Over the last year Bill Schmidt, a Woolly, and I have had dinner before we play sheepshead in St. Paul.  His wife, Regina, died a year ago September.  “Bill continues to walk straight in his life after Regina’s death, acknowledging her absence and the profound effect it has had on his life, yet he reports gratitude as his constant companion.”

By April 29th the back had begun to fade as an issue: “Let me describe, before it gets away from me, submerged in the always been, how exciting and uplifting it was to realize I was walking across the floor at Carlson Toyota.  Just walking.”

Kate and I had fun at Jazz Noir, an original radio play performed live over KBEM.

In my Beltane post on May 1st I followed up my two sessions with John Desteian:  “John Desteian has challenged me to probe the essence of the numinous.  That is on my mind.  Here is part of that essence.  The seed in the ground, Beltane’s fiery embrace of the seed, the seed emerging, flourishing, producing its fruit, harvest.  Then, the true transubstantiation, the transformation of the bodies of these plants into the body and blood ourselves.”

Then on May 6th, 5 months into my sabbatical from the MIA:  “The third phase requires pruning.  Leaving a job or a career is an act of pruning.  A move to a smaller home is an act of pruning.  Deciding which volunteer activities promote life and which encumber can proceed an act of pruning.  Last year I set aside my political work with the Sierra Club.  Today I have set aside my work at the Minneapolis Institute of Arts.”  That ended 12 years of volunteer work.

“When you recover or discover something that nourishes your soul and brings joy, care enough about yourself to make room for it in your life.”

Jean Shinoda Bolen 

It was also in May of this year that Minnesota finally passed the Gay marriage bill.  Gave me hope.

May 13 “Sort of like attending my own funeral.   All day today notes have come in from docent classmates responding to my resignation from the program.”  During this legislative session, I again became proud to be a Minnesotan.

As the growing season continued:  “If you want a moment of intense spirituality, go out in the morning, after a big rain, heat just beginning to soak into the soil, smell the odor of sanctity…”

On May 22nd the Woolly’s gathered to celebrate, with our brother Tom, the 35th year of his company, Crane Engineering.  The celebration had something to do with a crystal pyramid.  At least Stefan said so.

A cultural highlight for the year was the Guthrie’s Iliad, a one person bravura performance by veteran actor, Stephen Yoakam.

Friend and Woolly Bill Schmidt introduced me to High Brix gardens.  I decided to follow their program to create sustainable soils and did so over the course of the growing season. I got good results.

Our new acquaintance Javier Celis, who did a lot of gardening work for us over the year, also finished up our firepit and we had our first fire in it on June 7th.  It was not the last.

On June 12th Rigel came in with a small pink abrasion on her nose.  She had found and barked, barked, barked, barked at a snapping turtle.  Kate removed the turtle from our property.  The turtle came back, hunting I believe, for a small lake not far from us in which to lay her eggs.  The next time Rigel and Vega still barked, from a safe distance.

And on Father’s Day: “Is there anything that fills a parent’s heart faster than hearing a child light-hearted, laughing, excited?  Especially when that child is 31.”

During her visit her in late June grand-daughter Ruth went with me on a hive inspection: “She hung in there, saying a couple of times, “Now it’s making me really afraid.” but not moving away.”

My favorite technology story came on June 27th when NASA announced that one of the Voyager spacecrafts would soon leave the heliosphere, the furthest point in space where the gases of the sun influence matter.  This meant it would then be in interstellar space.

And, as Voyager entered the Oort cloud Tom and Roxann made their way Svalbard and the arctic circle.  Thus endeth the second quarter.

 

 

You Are the Fates. You Weave Your Own Destiny.

Winter                                                                        Winter Moon

Yet another caesura, this between Christmas and New Years.  Often a time of let down, regret, self-flagellation as we drive ourselves toward the New Year, whip in hand.  Again the self/no-self conversation comes to mind.  A good while back I used the image of a jockey riding our day-to-day actions, sometimes encouraging, sometimes holding back, sometimes using the quirt.  It’s this image that gives me pause when thinking about the no-self idea.  How can I have the clear sense of a guide, a jockey at work and maintain a notion of the no-self?

That is, if there is some part of me, no matter how small, that moves me to conform my actions to some roughly consistent standards or ideals or conceptions (whatever they are), at least that part has to be continuous.

We must be some combination of the two ideas.  My jockey is not a super-ego, or at least not only a super-ego.  My jockey loves his steed, has an intimate bond with it and wants only the best for it.  This is a relationship of love, not control, so all of the jockey’s urgings aim to enrich the life of the mount.  The bond between jockey and mount, between crudely put, mind and body, requires some ongoing entity whether that entity be a portion of the mind, a certain kind of body/muscle memory, an unconscious or subconscious cluster of hopes and dreams or whatever.

With the idea of a jockey or guide or a host or a friend of my journey there does come the evanescence of day to day experience, that flood of emotion, experience, thought and action we bathe in constantly.  Constantly here means waking and sleeping for our–jockey, guide, host, friend of my journey–never completely walks away from the task.

OK.  Let me shift metaphors here, maybe to a better one, our weaver (our own personal norns or fates) constantly has weft and warp threads in hand, shuttle rattling noisily back and forth across the loom weaving the tapestry that is our life.  Our weaver does not pluck all the threads (experiences, moments, feelings, thoughts, actions) out of our life to make her art.  No, she picks the threads that seem especially significant, or memorable, or important, somehow worthy of affecting the ongoing design.

The design for the tapestry shifts as it is woven, sometimes future threads wind back and alter scenes long wound up and considered done.  But note, and here is the no-self aspect, so many threads get dropped, no longer part of the thickness.  In this dropping of moments and in the selecting of so few moments to include in the tapestry (think of the total giga-peta-terabytes of information packed into anyone’s lifetime) we discard selves by the millions, the billions and the selves (the you interacting with a particular moment) that the weaver keeps are in a sense so random that the linkages seem not to exist at all.  Therefore, no-self.

However, and here is where I end up honoring the idea of the Self, there is the end a tapestry, a tapestry that gives visual shape to the life we have lived.  That tapestry of course is who you are at this moment.  Which will, following out this metaphor, change as your daily experience changes, sometimes, perhaps often at some points, altering understanding and appreciation of the past and thereby changing the design.  The look of the tapestry is never complete, never finished, always liable to change, even drastic change.  But there is still a weaver, a hand with the shuttle, working quickly and surely to see that our tapestry is a rich one.

A New Year is not a new year, of course, but a moment in time, an arbitrary moment when we pause, pay attention to the weaver.  What’s been added recently?  How does the design look?  Am I proud of it?  Could it use some spiffing up?  Perhaps a new image here and there?  OK.  Let’s see how we can create some new threads.

Let me take this idea one huge step further.  Our tapestry gets woven into the ongoing tapestry of our species and will always be a part of this larger work.  The hominid tapestry joins itself to the ape and the primate tapestries which in turn get knitted together with the mammalian.  You can see how this goes.  I’m not proposing a weaver in the sky, not at all, what I am proposing is an ongoing visual image which future conscious beings will be able to see.  They will marvel at it.

And, they will be, just like we are, the universe collected in a particular moment and looking back over the whole and saying, “It is good.”

At Home

Winter Solstice                                                           Winter Moon

The long night continues.  Kate and I had our bonfire together.  All three dogs came out and sat with us for a bit before taking off for doggy business barking at something deeper in the woods.

(Lorraine_Williams_Rainbow_Serpent_Dreaming)

The silence has fallen and will stay with us until morning.  Then the sunlight will wake up the birds and the newspaper deliverers and those who work on Sunday mornings.  And the long trek into darkness begun last summer in June trades places with an equally long ancientrail of light.

These are not opposites, not poles of a dialectic, but two sides of the world, entered through dawn and twilight, and with us every single day of our lives.  I’m still intrigued with the notion that the darkness may be our brains normal state and all this waking activity is clever misdirection by the dreamtime.

This will bear more thought and reading.

I do know this.  The ancientrail of darkness is katabatic, like Persephone’s or Orpheus’s or Odysseus’s.  That is, it is the trail which leads to the underworld, the dark places within us and that it has always drawn me more than the journey toward the light.

Let me say exactly what I mean here.  This is a bodily sensation, a sense of familiarity and comfort, a feeling of spirituality and it correlates to the increasing darkness.  It becomes most intimate this night, a night that is different from all other nights. Yet, the same.

It’s not that I reject the light or feel oppressed by it.  The garden, the growth of plants and the chance to wander outside easily has its joys, certainly.  It’s just that for me the darkness is richer, takes me further.

Does this have any correlation to my depressive or melancholic or dysthymic states? Maybe.  Does that mean it’s bad in some way or counter productive?  I don’t think so.  It seems to me that this is descriptive, not prescriptive or proscriptive.

My guess is that our bodies and our early life experiences give us a tendency to lean more toward the dark or the light.  My guess further is that since waking activity has a natural though not necessary linkage with the day, in particular work and school, that we privilege those who tend more toward the light, perhaps even suppressing in ourselves a tendency to favor the dark.

At any rate I’m of the dark persuasion and this is the moment in the year when I feel, as Tom Crane suggested, at home.

 

 

On the Margins

Samhain                                                                  Winter Moon

We’re in the dark period of the year, the time when the Winter Solstice stands out even among long nights as longer and deeper. Tonight, all Solstice eve, it’s 4:30 pm and twilight fell a while ago.  Snow comes down, adding to an inch or so to what we got over last night, all accumulating on top of the snows of early December.

Let me demonstrate how odd my religious situation is.  When my doctor, Corrie Massie, asked me what plans I had for Christmas, without thinking, I said, “We’re Jewish.”  Now we’re Jewish in that I support Kate’s Judaism, but what I really meant was, “I don’t celebrate the Christian holiday.”  Didn’t want to start with the whole theological narrative in my doctor’s office so my unconscious answered.  Not a lie, just not the whole truth.

No elevator speech for following the rhythmic cycles of nature, for celebrating not transcendence but immanence.  No quick way to say I’m an outlier here, too, standing on the margins of religion.  So often I find myself in conversations where I just don’t want to go through the whole analysis to explain myself.

Yes, too much carbon dioxide is, will be a problem. The unseemly gathering of wealth threatens the fabric of our culture.  No, I’m not really a Democrat and am planets away from Republicans.  Tea Party?  Different universe.  No, I don’t use pesticides.  Yes, we grow a lot of our own food and keep bees.  Oh, and I have a son in the Air Force who now has aspirations to become a general officer, to make sure authentic folks have their say.  No, mining minerals on the border of the Boundary Waters Wilderness does not make sense.  Socialism and single-payer health from Mark Odegardcare?  Sign me up.  I’m glad China and the rest of Asia have begun to grow strong.  I love the U.S.A.  Cable television?  Cut the cord.  That sort of thing.

I guess I’m at an age where I’m living the life I chose and choose, yet no longer have that evangelical zeal for my decisions.  Maybe because I recognize more and more how many right answers there are.

 

Repent Or Face Damnation

Samhain                                                                      Winter Moon

Samhain ends tomorrow with the arrival of the Winter Solstice.  The long fallow season following Summer’s End fades into the coldest months of the year.  Here in Minnesota the coldest days of the year begin on December 1st, meteorological winter; the old calendar reflects a different climate situation in Ireland and Britain.  Still, that calendar and its larger cultural context is the one which continues to influence our holy day practices.  Christmas comes on the celebration of Sol Invictus, the all the conquering sun, a Roman holy time set by the coming of the Winter Solstice.

Paul Strickland heard a Christian talk radio show lamenting the re-emergence of Winter Solstice celebrations and complaining that everyone knows Christmas came long before such pagan holy days.  We all laughed.  Christmas is a late addition to the Winter Solstice celebration collection and not a very important holiday among Christians until the Victorian era.

When Samhain ends at the Winter Solstice, the old growing season shifts from the death and desiccation of fall into decay and enrichment, preparing the way as the light begins to increase.   When Persephone returns to the Underworld to rule with Hades, the active forces of the soil begin their work in earnest, breaking down the fallen, dead and rotting materials into rich nutrients that feed soil organisms and will feed plants when Persephone returns home to her mother Demeter in the spring.

James Hillman said we see the gods today in our pathologies and I suppose that’s true in his sense, but the gods of polytheism suffered their Nietzschean fate long ago and have come again in more than psychological ways.

As Paul Ricoeur suggests, Christian’s familiar with biblical scholarship might return to the texts with a second naivete and see them once again as holy; so, I would suggest that the gods and goddesses of polytheism have long since resurrected, once again ready to offer themselves to us. All we need is our second naivete to see them. They can help us follow the recurring cycles of nature and understand them as powerful and dynamic realities, ones to which we owe allegiance.

Our blasphemy toward the old gods has created environmental havoc. We wantonly pollute–in the religious as well as the chemical sense–Poseidon’s ocean, Persephone and Hades’ soil, Zeus’s sky and even Aurora’s dawn.  Perhaps only Apollo’s Sun has escaped our meddling.

We are heretics to the old religions and we have paid the price.  If we do not repent, it will lead, as the logic of religion suggests, to our damnation.