Showing posts with label mythology. Show all posts
Showing posts with label mythology. Show all posts

Wednesday, 22 August 2012

The Endless Knot

Paperback, 49 Pages
Price: £5.99 
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Poetry of place, experience, the seasons, and the sacred. 
Written over many years, these poems are the distillation of experiences of ritual, landscape and mythology. 
Lovers of landscape and nature will enjoy this collection.
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Also available as an eBook (suitable for Kindle and other formats)

Friday, 6 January 2012

Pagan deities as expressions of values

Some Christian theologian or philosopher (was it Tillich? Ricoeur?) came up with the idea of contrasting the self-emptying of God in the Nativity with the old gods as expressions of "totalitarian power, dominion and violence". The self-emptying of the Divine into the human is a powerful idea; indeed most mystics affirm the path of kenosis or self-emptying as the path to union with the divine, or theosis. However, as this is presumably a fairly universal experience, stemming from human psychological processes, I would be surprised if it was invented in the Axial Age, unless that represented a shift in consciousness as well as culture.

Maybe some of the old Greek and Roman deities were expressions of "totalitarian power, dominion and violence" - however this was not true of all of them. I think it's a lazy reading of pagan mythology, and a failure to note the many historical and cultural shifts in antiquity, such as the transition from a nomadic hunter-gatherer existence to an agrarian one; the emergence of city-states; the imposition of new deities by Arian invaders, the rise of patriarchy, and so on. Apologists for Islam also like to claim that the way in which the worship of Allah transcended local and tribal deities and loyalties was a force for unfying the warring tribes and bringing peace to the Arabian peninsula. Maybe it was, but the local tribal deities were not all that was lost in the transition to the worship of a supreme deity. The worship of goddesses and the respect for spirit of place were also lost.

The rural deities who were expressions of spirit of place, change, and process were not expressions of "totalitarian power, dominion and violence" - I'm thinking of Pan, Faunus, Pomona, Vertumnus, Picus, Silvanus, etc. Even city deities (such as Athena) may have been seen as expressions of democracy (though that is admittedly a bit of a stretch).

The story of Pomona and Vertumnus - where Pomona is courted by Faunus, Silvanus, and Picus, but chooses Vertumnus, who came to her disguised as an old woman to put forward his own case as her suitor - could be applied to the search of the soul for union with the divine.

Faunus is the god of animals; Silvanus is the god of woodland; Picus is the woodpecker-god. Each is charming and rustic, and represents an aspect of nature. Vertumnus is the god of change (and of constant surprises, as U A Fanthorpe so memorably put it). In other words, he is the deity of processes within nature. He also has the ability to disguise himself as something more humble than his god-self (indeed, many deities of antiquity are said to have masked their divine glory when visiting the Earth, so as not to overwhelm humans, which must also have involved a self-emptying).

So Pomona, goddess of orchards (of Nature domesticated) is allied with wild nature and the process of change in the form of Vertumnus. Is it too much to see in Pomona a symbol of the soul, and in Vertumnus a symbol of epistemological transcendence? (Of course, there's nothing to stop would-be theologians from applying new meanings to old myths.)

The message of the story is that change is desirable, and that growth comes from being open to new experiences and an encounter with wild nature, not just enclosed in the managed environment of the orchard (the world of "prune, graft, spray and pick").

These deities of Nature are a far cry from the warrior deities of urban Greece and Rome. They are expressions of an older spirituality which was in touch with Nature and its rhythms. To be sure, the emphasis in antiquity was mostly on propitiating the unruly forces of Nature rather then getting in tune with them (a preoccupation introduced by the Romantics after the Industrial Revolution removed the direct experience of nature from many people's lives). But this story is not about deities who are expressions of "totalitarian power, dominion and violence".

There are plenty of other examples - Hermes Kriophoros, the ram-bearer, also known as the Good Shepherd (a title which was reused by followers of the Nazarene); the psychopomp deities who guided souls to the afterlife (Charon and Hermes); Demeter who mourned for Persephone and created winter in her grief; Hecate, goddess of the Moon and the underworld; Cupid and Psyche, and so on. Indeed, these stories persisted in Greek folklore long after the advent of Christianity.

Sunday, 3 July 2011

My christology

“The incarnation is true, not of Christ exclusively, but of Man universally, and God everlastingly.” - James Martineau
My christology is neither high nor low,
but broad and deep.

We are all Christ,
emerging wet and shining
from the River Jordan,
with the light of heaven
shining on us.

We are all Buddha,
reborn each moment,
arising dependent,
Buddha-nature unfolding.

We are all John Barleycorn,
cut down in autumn,
ploughed back into the earth each winter,
putting on green shoots in spring.

We are all Aradia,
bringing her subversive message of hope
to an oppressed people.

We are all messiahs,
and we must all save the world
together, like rainbow warriors.

Let us recognise the work
to which we are called,
and open our sacred hearts to the world.


Yvonne Aburrow
2-7-11, 6.01 am

Notes

  • Aradia is the messianic figure supposed to have appeared to Italian witches and taught them the mysteries of Diana
  • Christology is what you think the nature of Christ is (in relation to God and humanity)
  • John Barleycorn is a dying and resurrecting vegetation spirit in  Wiccan mythology
  • The Legend of the Rainbow Warriors is a prophecy of the coming of saviours


(part of the Write for your Life practice developed by Merle Feld)

Tuesday, 16 November 2010

Embracing the shadow

The human capacity for compassion and wisdom is in stark contrast to our capacity for cruelty and destruction. It is difficult to maintain an optimistic view of human nature in the face of the Holocaust, Cambodia, Rwanda, Abu Ghreib, torture, murder and rape. The only explanation that I find helpful for the human capacity for evil is the Jungian idea that we project our shadow selves onto others, and seek to destroy the shadow side by destroying the other. If we accepted our shadow side and sought to integrate it into consciousness, we would not persecute others, regard them as less human, and seek to destroy them.

But where did the shadow come from? Initially it may have emerged as a defence mechanism, or a by-product of the emergence of consciousness. This is suggested by the myth of the Garden of Eden, when the serpent reveals the distinction between good and evil to Adam and Eve, and then Yahweh says that the woman shall crush the serpent beneath her heel. If the knowledge of good and evil is equated with consciousness, and what is allowed into the light of consciousness is regarded as good, then the serpent (which represents the shadow and the unconscious) must be crushed in order to retain a sense of the self as good.

We can break out of this vicious circle by embracing the shadow, and taming the beast rather than seeking to destroy it.

Tuesday, 16 February 2010

Eden: the buried treasure

This is the book that Peter Godfrey referred to in his sermon the other day - I want one.
The myth of Adam and Eve is of a rise into wisdom and not a fall into Original Sin. This is the theme of an excellent book by a Unitarian, Eve Wood-Langford, entitled Eden: The Buried Treasure. In 'A Free Religious Faith. The Report of a Unitarian Commission' [Lindsey Press 1945], Eve read a reference to the Eden myth as an account of a process 'out of which have arisen all the distinctive achievements and possibilities of human life.' Eve says that this 'was a revelation: buried in the garden was an inspirational meaning having nothing to do with original sin, or a fall into shame and disgrace, but something quite opposite. From that moment I wanted to know how, why, when, where and by whose actions this unforgettable myth became misinterpreted'. Eve's answers to these questions makes fascinating reading. Eden - The Buried Treasure may be obtained from Amazon.

Sunday, 31 January 2010

Why reinterpret biblical stories?

I attended an excellent sermon today on the meaning of the Garden of Eden myth. The minister, Peter Godfrey, talked about how the serpent is actually a symbol of wisdom, and the act of eating the fruit was an expansion of consciousness.

I was discussing this with someone on the phone just now, and they asked, since the story isn't literally true, why not just jettison it completely? Why bother reinterpreting it?

I think the answer to this is because we are taught these stories as children and they have a way of lodging in the psyche / being embedded in the subconscious (nasty infectious memes!) and if we reinterpret them, it helps the psyche to recover from the unpleasant results of them. Just telling yourself they are not true isn't enough - it works for the rational mind but not the irrational subconscious. The subconscious works in terms of stories and myths (that's why they're important) so if you want to re-educate the subconscious, you have to tell it new stories, or new interpretations of the old stories.

If you have been brought up with the idea that "Jesus died for your sins", or some other nasty, pernicious, insidious piece of mythology, and in the past you accepted it as a truth, your rational mind may have quite properly rejected it; you may have had an emotional reaction against it; but on some level, it may still be buried in your psyche, waiting to burst upon your consciousness when you least expect it.

Therefore, you need to tell your subconscious a new version of the story, with greater mythic power and resonance than the first version, and you need to show how and why the story was constructed in the first place, to get it to understand that all shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well.

Also, these stories are very powerful and speak directly to the subconscious, and they can actually be used as liberating and empowering myths.

Update: Oddly enough, after I had written this, I noticed that Andrew Brown has written on a similar theme.

Thursday, 30 October 2008

Eurybia

EURYBIA was the goddess of the mastery of the seas. She seems to have presided over the external forces which influenced the main, including the rise of the constellations and seasonal weather, and the power of the winds. Her husband was the Titan Krios, who may have been associated with the constellation Aries, marker of the Greek new year. Her grandchildren all had power over the sea. They included the Anemoi (Winds), the Astra (Stars), Hekate (Witchraft), Selene (the Moon), Nike (Victory), Bia (Force), Kratos (Power), Zelos (Rivalry). Some of these represent human command of the seas : the winds for sailing, stars for navigation, and force, power and victory representing naval supremacy.
According to Hesiod's Theogony, Εὐρυβία had a heart of flint within her. She was the daughter of PONTOS (the Sea) & GAIA (the Earth). So if the sea makes love to the Earth, it erodes the rock, deposits it somewhere else, and makes chalk - which has a heart of flint. So I wonder if Eurybia was also a goddess of chalk? As someone who was born on the chalk, I find it very magical. Also Εὐρυβία is the grandmother of Hekate, goddess of witchcraft. I read somewhere recently that Doreen Valiente found chalk landscapes very conducive to magic.

As goddess of the sea and the winds, Eurybia is very closely allied to witchcraft, because witchcraft was often about the control of the winds; witches used to tie knots to bind or release the wind. And of course, the sea symbolises either the subconscious or the collective unconscious, the supernal mother.
I am the soundless, boundless bitter sea
Out of whose depths life wells eternally
ASTARTE, APHRODITE, ASHTORETH
Giver of life and bringer-in of death;
HERA of heaven, on earth, PERSEPHONE;
LEVANAH of the tides and HECATE
All these am I, and they are seen in me
I am the soundless, boundless, bitter sea
All tides are mine, and answer unto me.
~ Dion Fortune

Thursday, 28 August 2008

Journeying to Otherworlds

(part of the mythology synchroblog)

What do we mean by "otherworlds"? According to many Pagans, there are no "supernatural" realms. Michael York has suggested the word "preternatural" instead; implying perhaps uncanny, but still within nature; just an extreme example.

Although many Pagans talk about otherworlds, they regard them as intertwined with our own, just vibrating at different frequencies or inaccessible to everyday consciousness; not on a separate level of reality. So spirit is still immanent in Nature. (I know that other Pagans take this view because many people expressed it in my recent research on Pagans and science.)

So how do we access these "otherworlds"? By shifting consciousness, or accessing "divine" consciousness - in other words, expanding our awareness to include other "levels" or frequencies. This can be done by meditation, pathworking, visualisation, shamanic journeying, theurgy, and ritual; becoming aware of our own inner divinity. It's worth remembering that otherworlds can be like Wonderland - things are not always what they seem.
Bifröst by Arthur Rackham.
Bifröst by Arthur Rackham.

Maybe otherworlds only exist in our own psyches, or in the collective unconscious; but whatever and wherever they are, it is possible to experience them. Maybe they exist in the other "dimensions" intertwined with the visible four of space-time.

Anyway, a rather startling otherworld experience that I had was when I was once doing a visualisation before a rune-reading. Normally I would visualise going to the Rainbow Bridge (Bifröst) and going to Asgard to stand at the Well of Wyrd. Instead, I found myself sliding down the Ice Bridge into the underworld, and standing at the Well of Mímir. This was not what I was expecting: the place was dark, slippery and shadowy. The important thing about this experience was that the otherworld itself directed me to somewhere other than where I had planned.

I have also had experiences where otherworlds intruded into the everyday world, like the time in 1995 when a friend and I got lost in a very small wood in the dark, and it felt as if we were being pixie-led. Or at Samhain 1989 when I saw small semi-transparent beings on the forest floor. (No, I wasn't under the influence of anything.) Or in 1992 when I was in a Pagan shop in Cambridge, chatting to the owner, and saw what I thought was an amazing carved wooden face on the shelf beside my head - but when I looked again, there was nothing there. Apparently candles would get flung across the shop by some unseen force from time to time, as well. Of course, Paganism is all about noticing the worlds that are all around us, intertwined with our own. In a way, other animals' perceptions of the world around us are otherworlds (as Barry Patterson points out in his excellent book, The Art of Conversation with the Genius Loci). In a mouse's eye view of the world, humans are scary giants with horrible flat faces and booming voices. If, like Granny Weatherwax, you could practise Borrowing (the art of overlaying her mind on the mind of another creature so that she can see through its eyes and steer its actions without it being aware of her presence), you could perceive these perceptual otherworlds.

Other Otherworlds mythology synchrobloggers:

Tuesday, 26 August 2008

ways into the otherworld

Do all roads lead up the same mountain? Or do different techniques of ecstasy lead to different otherworlds?

In Wicca, there are various techniques of ecstasy, and I am not sure that they all lead to the same altered state.

My friend James speaks of a childhood vision of two trees; this made me think of the stanzas from Thomas the Rhymer:

O see ye not yon narrow, narrow road
So thick beset with thorns and briars?
That is the road to righteousness
Though after it but few enquires.

O see ye not yon broad, broad road
That lies across the lily leaven?
That is the road to wickedness
Though some call it the road to heaven.

And see ye not that bonny road
That winds about the ferny brae?
That is the road to fair Elfland
Where you and I this night must go.

I choose the winding road to fair Elfland, though it lead through fearsome places.

According to some adepts the way out of the world leads around a cypress tree by a white tomb; I am quite sure this goes to some Elysian field or similarly Greek otherworld.

Likewise there are different gates in other mythologies; the Kabbalist hero of Richard Zimler's novel The Seventh Gate speaks of a way to the Divine Source; you know you have reached it when your eyes shine like silver.