Friday, February 21, 2020
Hecate
Wednesday, February 19, 2020
Reflections on Illness
I keep wishing I could post an inspiring article here, but truth be told, I've been sick. For two months, and not much improvement yet. With, after my doctor's tests and a visit to the ER, what they think is a mystery flu, and possibly a neck injury. Maybe. I can't eat. I constantly have fever and chills. Body aches, and a piercing headache that wakes me up without fail at 3 am every night (which I've gotten used to. At least it's quiet, and as I wait for the aspirin and coffee to kick in, I continue to catch up on Mercedes Lacky's adventures in Valdemar. What an imagination she has! And I've come to feel quite fond of those Heralds and their Companions.)
Now we follow the labryinth like course of trying see what else it might be.............Listeria food poisoning infection? (it seems that those salad bars aren't always as healthy as you might think. ) It can be confusing indeed trying to get tests for things. Did you know that to get a blood test for Listeria you first have to be admitted to a hospital? Catch 22. You have to be very seriously ill before they'll test you. I've started seeing a Chinese medicine practitioner, and am hopeful that the acupuncture treatments she gave me, and the Chinese herbs, will help. And I'll keep pounding the pavements to see if I can get tested for things other than the endless flu, which all assure me, there is nothing they can do about.
I've been blessed in my life with a strong, Leonine constitution - this weakness and chronic pain is an experience I have not had much of, and I am amazed at two things. I never realized before how fortunate I've been, and how much I've taken for granted. I think I've always driven my body like a truck - give it gas, give it some oil, and plow on regardless of all the ruts on the road.
The other realization is that, when you are sick and in pain, pretty much everything else goes right out the door in importance. Your consciousness becomes focussed on finding, here and now, ways to NOT be in pain, and the body one inhabits rightfully makes its demands for loving attention. This 70 year old body is now demanding its due on many levels, including spiritual and psychic.
Back in the end of December I had a revelation when I, literally, stumbled into a Benedictine Monestery in an out of the way corner of the world, and found myself longing, deeply, for a contemplative life. Shortly after that I ended my Facebook account, and reduced many of my contacts, even though this will undoubtedly impact my income. I find I do not miss it...........I really have about 5 friends, not 500.
I applied to a number of rural artist residencies for the summer (I recognize that most of them want 40 year olds, not 70 year olds, but what the heck. Worth trying.) If no one wants me, I'll still get into my car, Goddess willing, and drive East, probably ending up at my beloved Brushwood and Lilydale. I'll do it slowly, with the attitude of a pilgrimage. There are some wonderful parks, full of vibrant life, between here and New York. Who knows, if my health returns, that trip may go so far as Avebury, or Glastonbury, or the Camino.
Life is short.
Hindus believed that there were three stages of life: Student, Householder, and Pilgrim. You learn, you earn and pursue a career or family and contribute, and at a certain age, you leave, giving up a worldly life, and move into the life of contemplation and pilgrimage. I understand that, now. This is what has been calling me.
I don't know where that trail is going to take me, but unless this illness is fatal (which I assume it most certainly is not).......... after I finish my obligations that carry into May, I AM RETIRED. I will probably forgo AIRBNB for a few permanent tenants in my little "Enclave". And I will have a great deal more time to write, think, and most importantly, talk to my cats and plants.
I am done with promoting things, with ambition, with schedules. I wish to find places of peace and contemplation that remove me from the the endless cacophony.............and I will do so, some of it, right here in my own back yard.
Life is short, and a privilege.
Monday, February 10, 2020
Eric Francis on American Instability
Americans Can Sure Take a Beating
(and your February monthly horoscope by Eric Francis)
This is not about any infiltration from the outside. It’s about our state of mind. We simply must grow up, or be put in a series of increasingly compromised positions. It’s time to embrace the idea that things can get a lot worse, even if met by our best efforts to make them better.
Pluto Transits: The Point of Enforced Growth
The Other Love Affair
Friday, January 31, 2020
The Universe Responds
A wonderful story from Alice Walker - I take the liberty of excerpting it here, and hope I won't be punished for publishing without permission. But it's so worth sharing.
The Universe Responds
by Alice Walker
A few years ago I wrote an essay called "Everything is a Human Being", which explores to some extent the Naive American view that all of creation is of one substance and therefore deserving of the same respect. In it I described the death of a snake that I caused, and wrote of my remorse.
That summer, "my" land in the country crawled with snakes. There was always the large resident snake, whom my mother named "Susie", crawling about in the area that marks the entrance to my studio. But there were also lots of others wherever we looked. A black-and-white king snake appeared underneath the shower stall in the garden. A striped red-and-black one, very pretty, appeared near the pond. It now revealed the little hole in the ground in which it lived by lying half in and half out of it as it basked in the sun. Garden snakes crawled up and down the roads and paths. One day leaving my house with a box of books in his arms, my companion literally tripped over one of these.
We spoke to all of these snakes in friendly voices. They went their way, we went ours. After about a two week bloom of snakes, we seemed to have our usual number: just Susie and a couple of her children.
A few years later, I wrote an essay about a horse called Blue. It was about how humans treat horses and other animals; how hard it is for us to see them as the suffering, fully conscious, enslaved beings they are. After reading this essay in public only once, this is what happened. A white horse came and settled herself on the land. (Her owner, a neighbor, soon came to move her.) The two horses on the ranch across the road began to run up to their fence whenever I passed, leaning over it and making what sounded like joyful noises. They had never done this before (I checked with the human beings I lived with to be sure of this), and after a few more times of greeting me as if I'd done something especially nice for them, they stopped. Now, when I pass they look at me with the same reserve they did before. But there is still a spark of recognition.
What to make of this?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I think I am telling you that the animals of the planet are in desperate peril, and that they are fully aware of this. No less than human beings are doing in all parts of the world, they also are seeking sanctuary. But I am also telling you that we are connected to them at least as intimately as we are connected to trees. Without plant life human beings could not breathe. They are the lungs of our planet. Plants produce oxygen. Without free animal life I believe we will lose increasingly the spiritual equivalent of oxygen. "Magic", intuition, sheer astonishment at the forms the Universe devises in which to express life - to express itself - will no longer be able to breathe in us.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
But what I'm also sharing with you is this thought: The Universe responds. What you ask of it, it gives. The military-industrial complex and its leaders and scientists have shown more faith in this reality than have those of us who do not believe in war and who want peace. They have asked the Earth for all its deadlier substances. They have been confident in their faith in hatred and war. The universe, ever responsive, the Earth, ever giving, has opened itself fully to their desires. Ironically, Black Elk (the Lakota shaman) and nuclear scientists can be viewed in much the same way: as men who prayed to the Universe for what they believed they needed and who received from it a sign reflective of their own hearts.
I remember when I used to dismiss the bumper sticker "Pray for Peace". I realize now that I did not understand it, since I also did not understand prayer; which I know now to be the active affirmation in the physical world of our inseparableness from the divine; and everything, especially the physical world, is divine.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Whatsoever you do to the least of these, you do also unto me” - and to yourself.
"God" answers prayers. which is another way of saying, "the Universe responds".
We are indeed the world. Only if we have reason to fear what is in our own hearts need we fear for the planet. Teach yourself peace. Pass it on."
(From: "The Universe Responds: Or, How I learned We Can Have Peace on Earth",
Living by the Word, Harcourt Brace Jovanovich, N.Y., N.Y., 1988.)
Saturday, January 18, 2020
Silent Peacocks: Personal Reflections on the Need for Sacred Solitude
I am at the Holy Trinity Monastery in St. David, Arizona. It is raining, and the only sound is the gentle fall of rain on leafless trees, droplets of water, little shining crystals on the dark branches before my window.
And on the banister of the terrace before me are 5 peacocks and peahens, their magnificent, extravagant, impossible iridescent tails hanging over the edge. They are just sitting there, making no sounds. I remember peacocks as noisy creatures, with a piercing cry. How strange those peacocks are, motionless, silent. I know that if they become aware of me, they will run off, so I join them in their silence for a moment, unmoving, aware of only peacocks, and the sound of rain.
The Monastery is so quiet in fact, there are not even sounds
of sparrows or ravens, no dogs or coyotes. It is also mostly deserted, probably
because it is winter and mid-week. The land has the familiar peace I have
so often found in places of worship, a peace rising through the soil as one
walks, an essence of place stepped and pressed into the land itself. It
does not matter what I "believe" in such places.... prayerful or
sacred places are not about the intellect.
There is a striking statue of Saint Benedict by the cloisters; he is holding a book, and there is a raven at his feet with, apparently, a rock in his beak. * I do not know what the raven means, but the white statue is welcoming. I find myself watching my breath as I walk, clasping my hands behind my back. Maybe the monks who lived here did that, and I am just picking up a memory in the land.
The Benedictine Monastery in the small eastern Arizona town of St. David is actually no longer a Monastery, not since 2017 when the Vatican recalled the few monks and Father still living here. It clearly once had a good-sized population that gradually diminished. As I walk, I try to imagine monks here, tending to the gardens, the shrines, the retreat buildings in the rain, or in the hot summers of this part of the country. It is still managed by a faithful group of volunteer Oblates. I notice that they are all elderly……I wonder if they will be able to attract younger people in the future to manage this special place? It seems, as I reflect with the meditative presence of the peacocks before me, that it is a great shame that the monastic life is so little appreciated in our frenetic world.
Last evening, as the sun went down behind rows of pecan trees, I saw the flock of peacocks, some 20 of them, sitting on a fence before a particularly ancient pecan tree. I watched as, one by one, they flew without sound into the tree, finding their particular perches. Each bird seemed to wait patiently for his or her own “take-off”. This was clearly a daily ritual. I was struck by how orderly this procession of the peacocks to their nightly roost took place.
Peacocks……… one thinks of them as loud, stupid birds. Yet at the St. David Monastery, where many
generations of peacocks have lived and roamed freely, they are a tribe going
about their business. Just as the Monastery is devoted to silence and
prayer, so they also seem to be. They are wrapped in brilliant shades of
quietude. Beautiful in their other
worldly iridescence among the gray and brown of winter leaves.
How did I end up here? Not entirely sure. By Grace?
As I was driving without a destination a day ago, I vividly
remembered a book I read (while spending the night on a bench in the
ultimate liminal zone of Heathrow Airport) called
“The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Frye”. ** The central character, Harold, is in his 60’s, living a conservative retired life with his wife. They do not really speak any more, as they navigate around each other with many years of habitual co-inhabitation. One day Harold receives a letter from someone he has not seen in over 20 years, someone who is dying of cancer in a hospice far away to the north of the U.K. She has written to let Harold know she remembers him fondly, and to say goodbye. In his habitual numbness, but equally habitual English sense of propriety, he decides to write her a simple letter, a card that says something like “thank you for your friendship, best wishes, Harold Frye”. He does so, and then decides to walk to the post office in order to mail it himself.
Except when he gets to the post office, he decides to walk on to the next Post Office, one at the north of town, and mail it there. And yet, when he gets to that post office, on the outskirts of town, he discovers that he still has the letter in his pocket, and he is still walking. And so, the unplanned and unannounced and even unconscious pilgrimage of Harold Frye commences.
Perhaps I am like Harold. I just decided I needed to get away, from the Holidays, from Facebook, from cars, away from all the noise, and the noise incessantly sounding in my own head, right now: but I had no idea of where to go. None.
But I have a car, and a credit card. All the way down 22nd street to the freeway, I still couldn’t decide where I was going…. west, to Phoenix, maybe Sedona? A long way, and Sedona is expensive. Or south, to Patagonia? Head to New Mexico, the solace of those wide-open mystical spaces…. even though it is an even longer way than Sedona? It was only when I got to the freeway underpass that I pulled into the left lane for route 19, heading in the direction of Patagonia, which at least had a bird sanctuary and a coffee shop. I’d see what happened from there.
As I drove, I felt better. I turned my phone off. In Patagonia I had a coffee, discovered that the only hotel (cleverly cowboy vintage) was ridiculously expensive, then thought what the heck, I’ll head to New Mexico, why not. The mood I’m in I could drive all night anyway. The road from Patagonia to I-10 is scenic, with a snow-covered mountain range in the distance. In Saint David, a little town on the way to Benson, I remembered there was a Benedictine Monastery. Always curious about it, I stopped, inquired about retreats, and here I am. Ask and ye shall receive, truly.
Lately I’ve been having those winter-born (what a wonderful word, “winterborne”) …… “dark nights of the soul” ………. which look, practically speaking, more like being overwhelmed, brittle, snappish, and exhausted and increasingly disturbed by it. I am running a successful AIRBNB “enclave”, still working thus in the “service industry” at the age of 72.
I have to work and know few who can afford not to these days. I am glad sometimes that no one much notices me, or my current inner landscape. To me, of late, everything sounds like “yap yap yap”. Sometimes I feel like contemporary life is a bit like being endlessly barked at by a chihuahua. Our modern world - an entire fleet of chihuahuas. A demanding litany of inconsequential complaint, vented commentary, monologue for the sake of attention, appeals for money, offers for deals, electronic voices, irritated drivers……exhausting. And, as I am an empath, all the human pain in there too, all the loneliness and fear and despair and grief and human pain I can’t help, and increasingly feel too frayed to listen to.
When I’m not “in service” changing sheets or scrubbing
floors, I am an artist. (Yes, one can
be an “emerged” artist and not wealthy.
In fact, most artists have to find other means of support.) The
artifacts of that 50-year career surround my property. I have to say, running an AIRBNB has been
somewhat deflating, as I have noticed that most people don’t think about art
unless it is in a museum or a gallery. Or now, I suppose, on
Instagram. Instant art for an increasingly microscopic attention span!
For myself, art is a language, albeit an often-archaic language, one that one has to be educated in, like learning to speak Latin. Certainly, it requires what our lives increasingly lack ......contemplation. Patience. Without that introduction, and time, artworks are just a backdrop that ‘specialists’ understand, dismissed as irrelevant.
Or a colorful passing tidbit to consume like a candy.
People do not see that a painting is a conversation, a window into another world……in this case, my world. For me, the works have numinous names and places in the landscape of my life. The bodies of work on my property are the best of me, my personal shrines and devotions, and now I just want to protect them from the infidels, so to speak.
If they don’t see it, it is safe, and those visionary depths the paintings and sculptures arose from (in me) are also underground. Even if they are in plain sight.
How do I feel about all of this? I often question my discontent; I am often despairing of contemporary life. Yet here, in a monastery where many came to seek God........it doesn’t matter whether I am “right” or “wrong” in my discontent. It doesn’t matter what I think at all.
I sit on a bench and listen to the melancholy voice of Saturn. Wise and winter-borne Saturn.
I contemplate a cast-off, brightly turquoise, feather on the
ground, gleaming as it catches a bit of sun.
Here I am, enjoying this pentimento under the surface of time, given the
grace and simplicity to turn under, within, below the fallen leaves, into the
dark. It occurs to me that it does not
matter at all what I “think” I should do once I rejoin the noise and
distractions of life. Here is refuge, here is the power of silence. Silence enough to listen, and my soul, for
lack of a better word, is speaking.
“When
we are living in accord with our inner reality while simultaneously suffering
the depredations of this discordant, dis-eased world, we nonetheless have
supportive energy, clarifying affects, and a sense of purpose. When we
get off track, these same manifestations turn against us. While the world
rushes to pharmacology to numb the inner discord, the question remaining is
simply and obviously this: What does the soul want, as
opposed to our protective but regressive complexes? This simple question
is intimidating because such an agenda can very quickly lead to the larger
rather than the smaller in our lives, necessarily re-framing our sense of what
our life journey is about.”
James Hollis PhD. “Living an Examined Life”
As the Winter Solstice approaches, I bless the Dark, the
nourishment that comes from this time of incubational dormancy, from quietude. I am grateful to have stumbled into welcoming
refuge for a few days. To sit listening
to the rain and privileged to join the silent, watchful witness of a great
iridescent beauty that sits on a fence before me, waiting to be noticed, listening
to the rain.
Dec. 2019
*I learn later that the Raven was a friend of Saint Benedict who helped him by
removing bread that had been poisoned by a jealous rival. http://communio.stblogs.org/index.php/2011/07/saint-benedict-and-his-friend/
** The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Frye by Rachel
Joyce (https://www.rachel-joyce.co.uk/)
“I love where we live. I love the stretch of sky
from east to west. I work in a shepherd’s hut in a field, looking over the
valley. It’s a place that feels alive with light and water and stories. My own
view. My own silence.” ….
Rachel Joyce
POSTSCRIPT
Shortly after I posted this article
in my Blog (www.threadsofspiderwoman.blogspot.com) I found this earring
by the trash can in front of my house. It looks a great deal like a
peacock feather to me! I have no idea where it came from, but I
will take it as a bit of guidance and affirmation. The world is always speaking to us, I
reflect, if we can only pause long enough to listen.
Monday, January 13, 2020
Thursday, December 26, 2019
A "Webbed Vision " - Toward a New World Story
Catherine Keller, From a Broken Web: Separation, Sexism, and Self 1
The quote above, from theologian Catherine Keller, has been deeply important to me. I first read her book "From a Broken Web" in 2008, when I was pursuing my "Hands of the Spider Woman" Community Arts Projects. The first project was at the Midland Center for the Arts (with the Alden B. Dow Creativity Center) in Michigan, then at the Creative Spirit Center, also in Midland (with Kathy Space), and last when I was a Resident Artist at the Henry Luce Center for the Arts and Religion in Washington D.C.
Perhaps because I live in the Southwest, the "legends of the Spider Woman" have always fascinated me as I encountered Her in native American art. Spider Woman is an ubiquitous Creatrix found throughout the Americas, with her earliest known origins among the Maya of South America. Spider Woman manifests among the Navajo and the Pueblo Peoples of the Southwest as the "great Weaver". Among the people of the Keresan Pueblo she is also called Tse Che Nako, the "Thought Woman" who weaves the worlds into being with the stories She tells. Within this metaphor of the "great weaver", Spider Woman waits at the center of the Web of life, within which we are all connected, interwoven and co-creating.
Ts' its' tsi' nako, Thought-Woman, the Spider is sitting in her room thinking of a story now: I'm telling you the story She is thinking.
Keresan Pueblo Proverb from Carol Patterson-Rudolph 2
My path on the trail of Spider Woman has been fraught with synchronicities, which I have come to think of as touchstones along the way. Synchonicities, to me, are a mystical part of the overlay (and the foundational "under") of the metaphor Dr. Keller writes of. As I write about "A Webbed Vision" , for example, I note that for the past weeks a spider has made its home on the ceiling directly above the keyboard where I write. I have come to think of that spider as my muse - perhaps, fancifully, she is Spider Woman's envoy, weaving its patient web just above my head, reminding me each day of a vision I want to hold.
In her 1989 book Dr. Keller does not speak of the Native American Goddess Spider Woman, but she often references the Greek myth of "Penelope". Penelope is a name with ancient origins that derive from an archaic Greek word meaning "with a web on her face". It is likely that Penelope was originally a Fate or Oracular Goddess before she was later demoted in patriarchal Greek mythology to the faithful wife of Odysseus, weaving and un-weaving a shroud to avoid her suitors (it's always interesting the way myths are transformed to suit the evolving mythos and power base of different cultures). Yet within the earlier context of a more egalitarian society, "Penelope" would be one who could "see" and "weave" the beginnings and the ends of a life. She might have been personified with a loom before her, or spinning a thread. Taking the metaphor further, such a Goddess would "see" the inter-dependencies between all things, the Great Web spreading out across the landscapes of life.
Pueblo mythology tells that when each of the previous worlds ended in catastrophe, it was Spider Woman who led the people through the sipapu, the kiva (or birth canal) into the next world. As such Spider Woman is the divine midwife for the birth of each new age. According to Hopi cosmology, we have now entered the "Fifth World". It is interesting that, in contemporary Neo-Pagan practices, there are 5 Elements that symbolize the "great Circle". The Fifth Element is called "Center", and is represented with the color white, the union of all colors. It is the last Element, and symbolizes the universal force or Aether that unites all the other Elements.
I cannot resist imagining that the World Wide Web might just be is Spider Woman's latest appearance!
“In Hopi cosmology Spider Woman was the first to weave. Her techniques and patterns have stood the test of time, or more properly, the test of timelessness.…..…..Weaving is not an act in which one creates something oneself – it is an act in which one uncovers a pattern that was already there.”
John Loftin 3
As we confront the universal catastrophe of climate change, it seems to me that this is a significant and appropriate metaphor. Indeed, a significant Prophecy: for what we now confront concerns not just a tribe or nation, but all beings upon planet Earth. We must evolve a new, global paradigm for this Fifth Age if we are to survive. Spider Woman, bringing a vision of the Great Web of life, once again must be the midwife as She makes visible the connections, the strands of the Web, whether we speak of ecology, economy, quantum physics, or integral psychology. In our essence, as Jungian psychologist Ann Baring has said, "we are one".
" The new myth manifests through the triple influence of quantum physics, depth psychology and the ecological movement suggests that we are participants in a great web of life, each one of us indissolubly connected with all others through that invisible field. It is the most insidious of illusions to think that we can achieve a position of dominance in relation to nature, life or each other. In our essence, we are one."
Anne Baring, Awakening to the New Story 4How indeed, as an evolving global society, would we think and act, if we saw, like Penelope (or Grandmother Spider Woman) "with a webbed vision"? Would we be able to change the catastrophic course of ecological destruction if we had such a theology based upon Relationship instead of Domination? If our reasoning, and our way of seeing, was inclusive rather than dissectionist? If instead of valuing competition and the "alpha" winner, we valued consensus? If instead of "fight and flight" in the face of danger, we instead pulled out the defense tactic found among female monkeys of "tend and befriend"? If instead of renunciate, hierarchical religions that turn us away from nature and Earthly existence toward an abstract "heaven" or "nirvana", we saw ourselves as profoundly embedded in the sacred body and evolving soul of our living planet?
"The question is not so much "What do I learn from stories" as "What stories do I want to live?"
David R. Loy, "The World is Made of Stories" 5
If each of us could, like Penelope, "see" ourselves holding a thread that originates with all of those who came before us - and touches all of those who will come after us - how indeed might we see, and act?
"The New Story coming into being is that the whole universe is a unified field. The world we experience is like a minute excitation on the surface of an infinite cosmic sea which sustains not only our world, but the entire Cosmos. We live within a cosmic web of life which underlies and connects all life forms in the universe and on our planet. Through a vast network of electro-magnetic fields we are connected to the earth, the sun and the hundred billion galaxies. So we are not separate from any aspect of planetary or cosmic life. "Anne Baring, Awakening to the New Story 6
As I watch the ongoing corporate greed that is eroding not only democracy, but the very life of our planet, and the unreasoned ideology of capitalism (as opposed to local free enterprise) that makes it possible for this new monarchy of the 1% to arise, I wonder sometimes if there is any hope for the future at all. If I am not my brother's and sister's keeper, and they mine - who is? Monsanto? Walmart? A civilization, indeed the raising of a single child, is a grand collaboration among many, and it might be said from that "webbed vision" of societies that the exploiters and warlords pounding their chests and sitting like dragons on their stolen gold....... are the parasites of a civilization, rather than any appropriate leaders.
We urgently need pragmatic ways to create and envision expanding community, which can be simplified to a fundamental sense of belonging. Beyond that, we need an ethos and mythos that supports the fundamental, and foundational, understanding of inter-dependency. If America was not a culture that idealizes "rugged individualism" where "good fences make good neighbors" what other kinds of values might enhance the quality of life for us (and perhaps the very survival of our species) along with an extended community of many other species we share our world with?
"The Rugged Individualist" cheers when needy people are deprived of food, battered women are deprived of protection from brutal husbands, children are deprived of education, because this is "getting government off our backs.”
Philip Slater, The Chrysalis Effect: The Metamorphosis of Global Culture 6"Alpha male" individualism fails in every way to communicate that we live within a web of human and environmental inter-dependency, a web that is unimaginably vast and also very intimate. This is the "Webbed Vision" that sees and recognizes the links that must be restored. A successful adult is so because of parents, siblings, friends, teachers, community resources, the backdrop of nature and environment, global society.........and distant ancestors that enabled him or her to be born. Without a sense of belonging and contributing to that continuum as it reaches into both the past and into future generations, human beings end up feeling alienated, disposable, and without a sense of purpose. Which is what an unsustainable, insatiable consumer system, as a placebo for the pain of spiritual and communal isolation, feeds on.
In tribal societies, survival depended on cooperation, as well as the collective ability to adapt continually to new environmental challenges, be it drought, invaders, or the exhaustion of resources. The mythic foundation of any tribe (or civilization) is ultimately the template upon which they stand; a culture with a rigid mythos that cannot adapt and change is doomed to collapse. Without a significant mythos of co-dependency in the face of global ecological crisis, the coming collapse of our civilization is apparent.
"The culture that is holistic is holistic because its reasoning structure is holistic. The problem we have with holism is that our reasoning is fragmentary, dissectionist, it removes us from relating things, it structures things in separate compartments in order to "have control".
Rafael Montanez Ortiz 7
The Latin origin of the word "religion", religios, means to "link back". To rejoin with the greater and divine whole in some way. In my opinion, many of today's religions, at least in their institutionalized forms, fail in communicating this ultimate "webbed vision" - in fact, as tribal social control mechanisms with millenia of often mutually contradictory doctrines behind them, they do exactly the opposite. They separate, create discord and fear, and damn those who do not share their cultural or philosophical constructs. Religions are essentially concretized mythologies - concretized communal stories.
What stories are so many people and institutions telling about the world we live in, the 21st Century world of global civilization? How do these sacred stories - most of them with their origins in ancient tribal societies existing in a very different kind of world - serve, or fail, the world of today?
Returning to "religios", the "linking back" to what is sacred, patriarchal Renunciate religions that teach us to renounce the world, the body, and the demands of relationships of every kind, either in service of some abstract "better place" or teachings that degrade earthly life as "impure" or "unreality"..............will not help us. More importantly, they certainly will not help those who must come after us to live in a diminished world. In traditional theological systems of patriarchal religions, divinity is placed "elsewhere", be it the literally conceived paradise that awaits the faithful, heaven, or nirvana. Equally, this renunciation of life can include more elegant abstractions that teach us that "this is not real" but fail to describe what actually "is real" in a way that is tangible. Renunciation of a false, dangerous, or corrupt world is a prime theme to be found in patriarchal religions, religions that have their origins in violent warrior ideology and warrior lifestyles. It might be said, for an example, that the Old Testament God Yahweh, with all his punishments and rules, is a classic example of an authoritarian, merciless, warrior "sky god".
And more subtly, the New Age message that "this experience is not real" which drives devotees to seek "the real world" found in some divine, other-worldly, perfected abstraction once we are "purified" or "surrender" in order to have one's consciousness raised sufficiently. Which often must happen through an authoritarian Guru or spiritual leader, with many of the attendant social abuses.
To speak of "oneness", to address creating a cohesive vision of holism that is appropriate to the world we live in today, mythic systems that include creative diversity within that "oneness" are needed. Myths and symbols that can include many gods and goddesses, many voices and languages, and many ways to the truth instead of simply eliminating the competition. Further, our world myth can no longer be simply a human world myth - it must include many evolutions, many other beings within the intimacy of ecosystems. If we're to survive into sustainability.
"We live in a world today in which the problems we face are all planetary" Philip Slater commented in his last book The Chrysalis Effect, “the polarization and chaos we see in the world are the effect of a global cultural metamorphosis". Slater's view was ultimately hopeful - that we are witnessing the chaos of a new evolution. That metamorphosis he spoke of, I personally believe, is based on the realization of inter-dependency with all life. In his view, this is humanity's childhood's end. We are called now to the world, each other, and the miracle of life, with a "Webbed Vision".
As the New Year approaches, I personally would like to call on artists, writers, musicians, storytellers, and all other "cultural creatives" to help to make a new mythology for the global tribe. The writer Ursula Leguin called them "realists of a larger reality". Among the Navajo (Dine`) infant girls still have a bit of spider web rubbed into their hands so they will "become good weavers". May we all now rub a bit of spider web into our hands for the work ahead of us ..........and, like Penelope, may we all now see "with a web on our faces".
“Hope now lies in moving beyond our past in order to build together a sustainable future for all the interwoven and interdependent life on our planet, including the human element. We will have to evolve now into a truly compassionate and tolerant world – because for the first time since the little tribes of humanity’s infancy, everyone’s well being is once again linked with cooperation for survival. Our circle will have to include the entire world.
Joel Kramer and Diana Alstad, The Guru Papers: Masks of Authoritarian Power 8
1) Keller, Catherine, From a Broken Web: Separation, Sexism, and Self,
1988, Beacon Press
2) Patterson-Rudolph, Carol, On the Trail of Spider Woman, 1997, Ancient City Press.
3) Loftin, John D., Religion and Hopi Life, 2003, Indiana University \
Press
4) Baring, Anne, "Awakening to the New Story", 2013, from her website:
https://www.annebaring.com/anbar14_comment.htm
5) Loy, David R., The World is Made of Stories, 2010, Wisdom Publications
6) Baring, Anne, "Awakening to the New Story", 2013, from her website:
https://www.annebaring.com/anbar14_comment.htm
7) Slater, Phillip, The Chrysalis Effect: The Metamorphosis of Global Culture, 2008,
Sussex Academic Press
8) Ortiz, Rafael Montanez Ph.D., interview with Lauren Raine, unpublished manuscript
(1989)
9) Alstead, Diana and Kramer, Joel, The Guru Papers: Masks of Authoritarian Power,
1993, Frog Books