Riders on the Storm

Yule and the Moon of New Beginnings

Boxing day gratefuls: Shadow, my sweet girl. Feeling no pain. Global warming. Climate change. Chatgpt. Snow in the forecast. Sorta. Football. How bout those Broncos? And, those Vikings. Joe. Seoah. Murdoch. Ruth and Gabe at Christmas dinner with Jon’s friends. Gabe looking through his dad’s art. Joanne and Alan today at the Hummingbird. Garlic in winter. Yule. Shema. Chesed. Yirah.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Resistance work

Life Kavannah: Wu Wei    Shadow, my Wu Wei mistress

Week Kavannah:  Yirah.    Radical amazement, awe.

Becoming a metaPhysician

One brief shining: On Christmas day I heard the heralds sing, Vikings in yet another takeaway from the Lions, that Viking’s running back leaped and got the ball over the pylon, touchdown, Bo Nix scrambles for another first down, and Bronco’s keep the ball moving downfield, proving that Christmas day did send good cheer to me, and to all Viking’s and Bronco’s fans, a happy New Year!

 

Riders on the storm. Into this world we’re thrown. Jim Morrison, who died too young, knew his Heidegger. Thrownness is a Heideggerian idea that seems obvious once you understand it, yet has profound implications for understanding anyone’s life purpose.

Thrownness means birth locates you not only in a family and a place, significant enough, but also in an era, a moment in time neither in the past nor in the future, but in what becomes for you, as long as you live, your time. Sorta obvious, right?

Its profundity comes from this: Even though I may want very much to be a Druid in the peak era of Celtic civilization, I can’t. The past. Even though I may want to live in an era without Trump, I can’t. We share this time. Damn it. Even though I may want to live in a time long after this one. I can’t. The future.

Thrownness positions us where we are, with this body and its gifts, its flaws, these relatives and friends with their gifts and flaws. With the joys and possibilities available through computers, electric cars, zoom calls, good medicine, a prosperous nation. But also within a time straining to solve civilizational problems through old, time cursed solutions like oligarchy, fascism, and bigotry.

We cannot be anywhere else, with any other world around us. We must, therefore, act within this one. And, we must act as the person we are, not one we wish we might magically become.

In case this is all too abstruse, and it probably is, let me anchor the idea in my life. I was thrown into post-WW II America with two veterans of that war as parents. It was a time when polio still raged among the young. It caught up with me. I grew up in a small Indiana town with displaced hillbillie’s kids as my classmates and friends. My mother died when I was 17, almost out of high school.

Let’s stop there. I had no choice about any of these things. They were the realities of my life in the same way being raised as a  Masai warrior’s child of the same era was theirs. My development physically, emotionally, intellectually, had to have these influences.

In other words who I am today at 78, sitting on Shadow Mountain, remains anchored in how I chose to respond to those realities. Could not have been otherwise. Though my choices could have, potentially, been different, they were the ones I made and I cannot go back and remake them.

As this 21st century year comes to a close, give some thought to the world into which you were thrown. It is your only world, for this lifetime, and only you can offer yourself to it as healer, servant, bringer of justice and compassion, artist or engineer.

Christmas Edition

Yule and the Moon of New Beginnings

Christmas gratefuls: Children, all the children. Christmas Trees. Wassail bowls. Yule logs. Mistletoe. Holly and Ivy. The whole pageant of pagan appropriations. Merry Christmas, everyone. Snow. Ice. Wherefore art thou? Shadow of the morning. All those who are alone, bereft, unloved on this day in particular. Friends and family. Wild Neighbors and the Rocky Mountains.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Tara, Marilyn and Irv

Life Kavannah: Wu Wei    Shadow, my Wu Wei mistress

Week Kavannah:  Yirah.    Radical amazement, awe.

Becoming a metaPhysician

One brief shining: Tara brings all black, curly haired puppy Eleanor and all white, curly haired Kingsley; they run down the stairs yin and yang on four legs, out the back door and into doggy freedom, while they play Tara and I talk. Humans, eh?

A Christmas edition of Ancientrails. Nostalgia carries me into Christmas, any Christian embers long extinguished. The pagan accretions, the family and friends celebrating. Yes. The incarnation. No.

Jacquie Lawson, the e-card company, puts out a fun animated Advent calendar and I buy one each year. It’s heavy on traditional Christmas themes like Snow, sledding, Santa, hot chocolate, with a soupcon of baby Jesus. This year’s version had an English village setting with the village gaining buildings as the days progressed. A sweet immersion in the parts of Christmas that still matter to me. Very well done.

Yule makes more sense to me with its Evergreen Trees, Holly, and Ivy. Its emphasis on Fire as the human imitation of Great Sol. Wassailing, feasting, singing songs. Celebrating the essential and inextricable relationship between humans and their parents: Mother Earth and Great Sol.

So throw that Yule log on the Fire, drink from a flagon made of Elk Horn, listen to the lute and the zither, and sing the night away into the coming of the light. You pagan you.

 

In saying my piece about the difficult realms of my inner world I put them out there, on the page, away from the clanging cauldron of my doubts. They no longer have the power of hidden things. Does not make them dissolve, no.

Yet. Their power diminishes in the air. Looking back to yesterday’s post, I can see them as part of my larger whole, and only part. That alone puts them in conversation with the strength of my will, with the love of friends and family, with  the sacred energy of my nephesh which joins  my Self to the collective unconscious. In that broader, richer context the self-insulting and self-negating thoughts have to contend with years of reflection and self-understanding. Their obscurantism evaporates, sending them back to their subterranean homes in Kubla Khan’s caverns measureless to man (sic).

Also, when they’re out folks can raise them with me. Diane helped me today with two stuck places: exercise. I committed to resistance work only for the next few weeks. Being weak really bugs me. She also helped me see that reading and writing can indeed be my purpose now. Thanks, cuz.