Friday, December 12, 2025

At the Solstice: Pax Gaia (Peace on Earth)

                        

  "What is the new mythology to be, the mythology of this unified earth as of one harmonious being?"

------ Joseph Campbell, The Power of Myth (1986)

Pax Gaia (the Peace of Earth) is the most compelling challenge of our time. Thomas Berry, speaking as he did for all the Relations on our beautiful planet,  introduced this t,heme after 9/11, reflecting on the urgent need to embrace a cosmology of a truly comprehensive Gaian  peace. It is a peace that transcends Pax Romana (the peace of an empire) and Pax Humana (peace among humans).  To imagine a Peace that extends to all the interwoven, interdependent life on Gaia, recognizing that what we do to others, and not just human, we are doing to ourselves, and to those who must come after us. Co-creators, not exploiters .  A great calling indeed, given the chaos and violence of our time.  But as Berry wrote, if we are to survive, and meet the evolutionary challenge we now face, holding that Pax in our minds and hearts is the only way.

"We are called as an evolving humanity to the Great Work that engenders Pax Gaia. To this end we create and foster deep cultural therapies that address the deep cultural pathology of our time that has brought about such ecological damage." 
Thomas Berry "Evening Thoughts" 2006)
"Only now we see with clarity that we live not so much in a cosmos (a place) as in a cosmogenesis (a process) -- scientific in its data, mythic in its form."  
~ The Universe Story by Brian Swimme and Thomas Berry  

The Winter Solstice was perhaps the earliest universal holy day, celebrated in different ways   throughout the world from the earliest days of human culture.  The Solstice is the ancient center of the Holiday Season and our New Year.   When language was young, when even the gods and goddesses had not yet taken human forms within the human imagination, but they ran instead with deer in the forest, flew with the wings of crows, or were glimpsed nameless from the awed depths of every numinous pool, sensed as Presence in the womb depths of caves........ even then, the Return of the Light was a holy day, a day of celebration. 

Long ago ancestors lit fires to welcome the "shining god" who was the sun returning from mysterious underworld depths to bring the life giving Sun as the nights grew so long. They built stones or made circles or created doorways to be aligned with the sun's pathway. They lit fires as "sympathetic magic", fires to light and imitate the Sun's passage (which is why we still light candles, and Christmas lights, today, although no one remembers.........)

Welcoming the Sun, they left offerings of food to show their gratitude, and invented songs or danced throughout the longest cold night, encouraging, helping the Sun on its  difficult journey to return to the world, and to the promise of new life.    I remember at this time of the Holy/Wholly/Holidays that Holydays begin among our most ancient, instinctual roots, taproots that reach down, deeply entwined within the visible and invisible web of  Gaia's life.  I believe having a mythos, indeed, and experience of that taproot, is essential to our physical and spiritual health.  

Planet Earth turns her face toward her star again, circling in brilliant orbit, bearing every evolving, responsive, living, infinitely intertwined be-ing within her fragile, exquisite azure skin on her long journey.   

Perhaps we sensed, as the sun rose on the Winter Solstice,  that pre-verbal, instinctual knowing, found hidden beneath the pages of any book written with five fingered hands, beneath each inscribed layer of words, signs, hieroglyphs, pictures in jet or ochre or sepia, luminous beneath the oldest pages.  A veneer peels away, revealing a pentimento, an ancient heartbeat found within our genetic memories, shared again with all beings that keep vigil on the long night of the winter Solstice, and celebrate the Return of the Light with many different religious traditions.  Or with just awe and reverence, candles in the night.  

"Winter Solstice, Willits, California 2013" Photo by Jerri Jo Idarius


I pledge allegiance
to the soil of Turtle Island,

and to the beings
who thereon dwell
one ecosystem in diversity
under the sun

With joyful
interpenetration for all.


Gary Snyder

Thursday, December 11, 2025

"From Tyranny to Tenderness": Article on Toxic Masculinity from Richard Hames

 


"The masculine principle, divorced from its complementary feminine aspect and elevated to a position of absolute supremacy, has become a kind of cognitive virus infecting our collective consciousness, distorting our understanding of what it means to exist in relationship with others and with the living Earth."

 An excellent deep dive into a very important need to change the patriarchal paradigm before it's too late. Nice to hear an intelligent and literate man approach the subject. A lot of women have been talking about it for......... well, quite a long time. But men aren't famous for listening to women. Maybe a few of them are now. I take the liberty of copying this excellent article here.


From Tyranny to Tenderness:
The Transformation of Masculine Consciousness

Richard David Hames
Dec 03, 2025

When we examine the multiple crises converging upon us at warp speed—ecological collapse, ingrained inequality, endless warfare, the erosion of democratic institutions and ideals—we actually see a pattern so pervasive it seems barely visible, like water to a fish.

This patten is suffused with a profound malaise which strikes at the very heart of our civilisational predicament—revealing itself not merely as political or economic dysfunction, but as a fundamental ontological error that has metastasized through millennia of human development. It's the pattern of masculine power. The masculine principle, divorced from its complementary feminine aspect and elevated to a position of absolute supremacy, has become a kind of cognitive virus infecting our collective consciousness, distorting our understanding of what it means to exist in relationship with others and with the living Earth.

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This is not simply about men as biological entities, but about a worldview that has calcified into institutional forms, belief systems, and patterns of behaviour that perpetuate themselves through cultural transmission. The tragedy lies in how this framework mistakes its own limitations for universal truths, confusing the map for the territory, the constructed self for the ineffable reality of being. When we examine the archaeological record, we find that this wasn't always so—there existed periods and cultures where masculine and feminine principles danced in greater unity, where dominance wasn't confused with strength, where power meant the ability to nurture life rather than control or destroy it. This pattern of male tyranny extends far beyond simple gender politics to reveal a fundamental distortion in human perception itself, one that has shaped millennia of cultural evolution and now threatens the very continuity of life on Earth.

Manifestations of this distortion appear everywhere we look: in boardrooms where exclusively male executives make decisions affecting billions of lives, in religious hierarchies that claim divine authority while systematically excluding women from power, in the rape of ecosystems treated as mere resources for extraction, in the violence inflicted upon anyone who deviates from narrow definitions of acceptable identity or belief. Yet to interpret this as just a problem of individual bad actors would be to miss the deeper structural reality—that patriarchy represents a particular mode of consciousness that has institutionalised itself so thoroughly that even its victims often cannot imagine alternatives.

This consciousness rests upon a profound metaphysical error: the belief that the self exists as an independent, permanent, and absolute reality with the right—even the obligation—to impose its will upon the world. When this error becomes gendered, when it fuses with masculine identity and claims divine sanction through images of male deities and prophets, it creates a "cosmological tyranny" that extends from the heavens to the most intimate human relationships. Men come to believe not just that they should dominate, but that the very order of the universe depends upon their dominance.

The philosophical roots of this delusion run deep into the bedrock of Western civilisation, where Greek rationalism privileged the abstract over the embodied, where Christian theology placed spirit above matter, where Enlightenment thinking celebrated the autonomous individual while forgetting the web of relationships that make individuality possible. Each iteration reinforced the notion that to be fully human—and implicitly, to be male—meant to transcend the messy interdependence of biological existence and achieve a kind of god-like sovereignty over nature and society. Male became the default mechanism in a world-system designed and run by men for men.

Yet this mentality, however deeply entrenched, is neither universal nor inevitable. Indigenous cultures around the world have maintained different understandings, recognising the self as fundamentally relational, existing not in isolation but through connection with ancestors, descendants, the living Earth, and the spiritual dimensions of reality. Eastern philosophies have long taught that the separate self is maya, illusion, and that wisdom lies in recognising our fundamental interbeing with all that exists. Even within the Western tradition, mystics and poets have consistently challenged the dominant paradigm, pointing toward ways of being that honour connection over separation.

The transformation required, then, is not simply political or social but ontological—a fundamental shift in how we understand the nature of existence itself. For men, this means undertaking what amounts to a sacred deconstruction of identity, dismantling the elaborate architectures of domination that have been mistaken for strength, the armour of invulnerability that has been confused with maturity, the isolation that has been labeled as independence. This work begins not with new beliefs but with a profound encounter with sorrow—grief for the violence inherited and perpetuated, for the tenderness suppressed, for the connections severed in the name of proving masculine worth.

Through this sorrow, if genuinely embraced, comes the possibility of remembering what was lost when the masculine principle detached itself from the feminine, when mind declared independence from body, when humanity imagined itself separate from nature. It's an imperative that men rediscover themselves as sons of the Earth, not its masters, as equal participants in the web of life, not its supervisors. This remembering is evolution and not regression, not weakness but a more sophisticated appreciation of strength that recognises true power as the capacity to nurture life rather than dominate it.

The practical implications of such a shift would revolutionise every aspect of human society. Economics would transform from a system of extraction and accumulation to one of circulation and regeneration, acknowledging that wealth means health—that of communities, of ecosystems, and future generations. Governance would evolve from hierarchy to networks of mutual accountability, where power flows not from above but emerges from below through collective wisdom and shared responsibility. Education would shift from installing programmes to awakening consciousness, helping young people discover their unique talents while understanding their fundamental interdependence with all life.

Perhaps most crucially, spirituality would undergo a radical reimagining. The image of the divine as distant, vengeful, and male would give way to an understanding of the sacred as immanent in the web of relationships that sustain life. This doesn't mean abandoning the transcendent but rather recognising that transcendence and immanence are two facets of the same mystery, that the divine is as present in the soil beneath our feet as in the stars above our heads, and as fully embodied in women's wisdom as in men's.

For this transformation to occur, men must become interns of those who have maintained connection to life's deeper rhythms—women who never forgot the wisdom of cycles and seasons, indigenous peoples who still know the Earth as a living being deserving reverence, children who haven't separated wonder from knowledge, and the natural ecosystems that show us how reciprocity and diversity create resilience as well as beauty. This apprenticeship requires cultivating humility, perhaps the most challenging virtue for those trained to see vulnerability as weakness rather than as the portal to authentic strength.

Men must discover new sources of meaning and identity rooted not in dominance but in service, not in separation but in communion, not in permanence but in conscious participation in the eternal dance of creation. This is not about diminishing masculine energy but about allowing it to mature into its fullest expression—the protector who creates conditions for all life to flourish, the warrior who battles against the forces of destruction within and without, the lover who embraces the world with tenderness and strength, the sage who has learned that true wisdom begins with acknowledging how little we know.

Whether our species is capable of navigating the evolutionary bottleneck ahead may depend on how quickly and thoroughly this transformation occurs. The crises we face are fundamentally crises of consciousness, symptoms of a worldview that has outlived its usefulness and now threatens to destroy what it once sought to control. Patriarchy of the most toxic kind will end—the mounting pressures of ecological and social breakdown ensure that it cannot continue indefinitely. The question is whether men can consciously participate in its transformation or whether they will cling to dominance until the systems supporting it collapse entirely, potentially taking much of life on Earth with them.

The work of transforming masculine consciousness becomes not just a matter of gender justice but of species survival, not just a social imperative but a spiritual calling to remember what it means to be fully human. The future asks men to release their death grip on control and open their hands to receive the gifts that only vulnerability and connection can bring, to trade the illusion of separation for the reality of interbeing, to discover that their deepest fulfillment comes not from power over but from power with—the creative power that emerges when all beings are free to contribute their unique gifts to the larger whole.

This metamorphosis calls for nothing less than a reimagining of what it means to be male in the twenty-first century and beyond. The old stories that equated masculinity with control, rationality with superiority, and independence with maturity have exhausted themselves. They lead only to isolation, ecological devastation, and the perpetuation of cycles of violence that diminish everyone, including the men who appear to benefit from them. The new story waiting to be born recognises masculinity as one essential tonality in the symphony of existence, finding its truest expression not in solo performance but in harmony with all other voices.

The evidence increasingly suggests that those cultures and communities that embrace gender balance, that respect both masculine and feminine ways of knowing and being, demonstrate greater resilience, creativity, and capacity for dealing with complexity. They make better decisions because they draw on the full spectrum of human wisdom. They create more ingenious solutions because they aren't limited by rigid hierarchies that silence diverse views. They build more enduring systems because they understand that lasting strength comes from interdependence, not control.

In this light, the transformation of male consciousness from tyranny to tendersness represents one of the most urgent evolutionary challenges facing our species. It requires men to do the difficult inner work of examining their inherited beliefs, challenging their conditioned reflexes, and opening to ways of being that their culture may have taught them to fear or despise. It asks them to find courage in the willingness to be vulnerable, not in certainty but in the capacity to hold complexity, not in answers but in the quality of their questions.

Some, like Jordan Peterson, will argue that my call for transformation represents an attack on masculinity itself, that hierarchies are natural and necessary, that traditional male virtues of strength, rivalry, and rational mastery have built our civilisation and must be preserved. This perspective, increasingly vocal in our polarised times, sees the crisis differently—not as too much masculine dominance but too little masculine order, not as excess control but as dangerous feebleness. Yet this defense of traditional masculinity basically misreads both our predicament and our potential.

The ecosystems collapsing around us, the epidemic of male suicide and isolation, the endless cycles of violence and war—these are not symptoms of insufficient masculine control but of its exhaustion as organising principle. Nature itself teaches us that monocultures inevitably fail, that systems which cannot adapt become extinct, that resilience emerges from diversity and interconnection rather than domination.

For me the choice is not between masculine order and feminine softness, but between conscious evolution and unconscious collapse. Those who cling to dominant hierarchies as the "natural" order forget that consciousness itself is nature's experiment in transcending its own limitations. The transformation of masculine consciousness from tyranny to tenderness is not a betrayal of male strength but its maturation into a form of power that can actually sustain life rather than destroy it.

This is the great remembering our times demand—not a return to an imagined past of unchallenged male authority, but an evolution toward a future where masculine and feminine principles unite in service to life's continuation.

Sunday, December 7, 2025

A Thought for the Day............


 "With every passing hour our solar system comes 43 thousand miles closer to Globular Cluster M13 in the Constellation of Hercules, and still there are some misfits who continue to insist that there is no such thing as progress."


---Ransom K. Ferm

Tuesday, December 2, 2025

"The Sissie Strikes Back" - Ursula Leguin, and Old Age

Rooted Saga (2023) 

"I've lost faith in the saying "You're only as old as you think you are"

 - ever since I got old."

"It is a saying with a fine heritage.  It goes right back to the idea of the Power of Positive Thinking, which is so strong in America because it fits in with the Power of Commercial Advertising and with the Power of Wishful Thinking, aka the American Dream.  It is the bright side of Puritanism:  what you deserve is what you get (never mind just now about the dark side).  Good things come to good people and youth will last forever for the young at heart.  Yup."

                                                        -----Ursula Leguin 

 Scrolling  through Face book I am increasingly annoyed by various ads, memes, and "positive thinking" posts that assure me if I just purchase this product, follow that meditation or breathing exercise, or re-arrange my thinking process,  I will defeat old age, look like Jane Fonda, or renew my sexual life after some ( quite happy and relieved that I'm not in the market for it) 20 years without one.  Please.  

If I've gained anything from Old Age besides arthritis (and at 76 I believe I qualify) it is an occasional modicum of wisdom,  and an equally occasional modicum of being able to see through the surfaces of things.  Sometimes I even glimpse the roots.  I like that.

This morning I opened a book appropriately titled No Time to Spare, by Ursula K. Le Guin.  As I opened this little collection of essays, published not long before her death in 2018,  I encountered "The Sissie Strikes Back", a short reflection on old age in America.  And once again my lifelong Shero has provided me with a  Satori Jolt (witness the quote above).  And a good response to all those annoying memes that used to make me feel so unevolved.   

 https://youtu.be/gynLfdNVVHs?si=cirfEoK0P3dNpoFp

Wednesday, November 26, 2025

Thanksgiving 2025

 

"You think this is just another day in your life, but its not just another day.  It's the one day in your life that is given to you.  Its given to you, it's a gift,  the only gift that you have right now, and the only appropriate response is gratefulness.......
Look at the faces of the people you meet.  Each face has a unique story, a story that you could never fully fathom.  And not only their own story, but the story of their ancestors is there.  And in this present moment, in this day, all the people you meet, all that life from generations and from so many places all over the world flows together and meets you here......"
Benedictine monk Brother David Steindl-Rast

Following the celebrations and remembrances of Samhain/Dia de los Muertos,  which coincided traditionally with the Last Harvest Festival of the year  (hence all the pumpkins!) we enter the advent of Winter, November.   As the Wheel  turns, the final Bounty is stored away  before the first snows fall.  Apples are in barrels, ready  to be pressed into cider.   

What now, with leaves fallen amid the darkening, overcast days?  Well, in the U.S. we celebrate Thanksgiving (traditionally done with family, and large birds called turkeys).  There are stories about how the generous native people of New England brought the first turkeys to Puritan immigrants (otherwise called colonists), and so that's the traditional myth being celebrated.  Although, from the viewpoint of Native people themselves, history has demonstrated that this was not something to celebrate at all - realistically, it might better be a day of mourning for them.  

But leaving that story behind, and returning to the Wheel of the Year, this seems to me a perfect time to celebrate Gratitude.  How can we talk about the closing of the year,  going "into the dark"  ~ without, finally, arriving at GRATITUDE?  How can we really look at the experience of being alive without finally arriving at Gratitude?

I've shared this video by Louie Schwartzberg before.  I wanted to share it again. 


Learn more about Louie Schwartzberg  and Moving Art at  www.movingart.com.



Wednesday, October 29, 2025

Poems for the Day of the Dead

Florence on horse, Griffith Park, 1928
 Girl and Horse, 1928

by Margaret Atwood


You are younger than I am,
you are someone I never knew
you stand under a tree
your face half-shadowed,
Holding the horse by its bridle.

Why do you smile? Can’t you
See the apple blossoms falling around
You, snow, sun, snow,
listen, the tree dries
and is being burnt, the wind

Is bending your body,
your face ripples like water
Where did you go?

But no, you stand there
exactly 
the same,
you can’t hear me,

forty years ago you were caught by light
And fixed in that secret place
where we live, where we believe
nothing can change, grow older.

(On the other side
of the picture, the instant
is over, the shadow
of the tree has moved. )

You wave,

then turn and ride
out of sight through the vanished
orchard, still smiling

(as though you do not notice)




GHOSTS

Where do the dead go?

The dead that are not cosmetically renewed
and boxed, their faces familiar and serene.
Or brought to an essence, pale ashes in elegant canisters.

I ask for the other dead:

those ghosts that wander
unshriven among our sleep,
haunting the borderlands of our lives.

The dead dreams,
The failed loves.
The quests, undertaken with full courage
and paid for in blood
that never found a dragon, a Grail, a noble ordeal
and the Hero's sacred journey home.

Instead, the wrong fork was somehow taken, or the road
wandered aimlessly, finally narrowing
to a tangled gully
and the Hero was lost, in the gray and prosaic rain,
hungry, weary, to finally stop somewhere, anywhere
glad of bread, a fire, a little companionship.

Where is their graveyard?
Were they mourned?
Did we hold a wake,
bear flowers, eulogize their bright efforts
their brave hopes
and commemorate their loss with honor?

A poem?
An imperishable stone to mark their passing?

Did we give them back to the Earth
to nourish saplings yet to flower,
the unborn ones?
Or were they left to wander
in some unseen Bardo, unreleased, ungrieved.
Did we turn our backs on them unknowing,

            their voices calling, whispering impotently
            behind us
            shadowing our steps?

                  Lauren Raine   1997




Sometimes a man stands up during supper

and walks outdoors, 
and keeps on walking

because of a church 
that stands somewhere in the East.

And his children say blessings on him
as if he were dead.

And another man,
 who remains inside his own house,
stays there, inside the dishes and in the glasses,

so that his children have to go
far out into the world
toward that same church,
which he forgot.

Rainier Maria Rilke (Translated by Robert Bly)



         On Meeting Shari After 22 Years
I see your  father's  gesture
(how is it possible, to remember him, after all these years?)
yet there it is renewed, a play of shadow and light
 flickering across your face.

You were a Milagro
that inhabited me
for a little while 
and then grew on without me.

What shall I call this door,
opening today between our lives?
Multitudes have passed this way. 
For that moment
I see them in your eyes,
then I pay the bill, finish coffee,
and descend into the subway, waving goodbye.

How can I tell you
that I am casting my love
like a daisy with petals partly plucked,
a firefall of dandelion seed
into the wind
into the world

as you must do as well

Lauren Raine (1990)

Flora with Florence (1917)
old photos,
escaping a tin box:

They are stories with wings
 butterflies, or white moths
fluttering at the glass,
ephemeral, half-glimpsed stories
lighter than air, 
these unknown memories
quietly escaping,
through 
an open window


Florence at 92

Hecate