For many of the people around me, this is indeed, as the song says, the "most wonderful time of the year". Everyone celebrates some holiday or another, but I don't really see the point.
I work retail, so I have to deal with Christmas whether I want to or not. As a card carrying, Catholic-church-hating pagan, I despise the holiday. I'm aware of its roots, and that makes it worse, honestly. So much of Christmas was blatantly stolen from pagan traditions, and even though that should make it easier to brush off the taint of would-be cultural genocide, it instead becomes more offensive. This holiday, as with Easter, is a reminder of what tools were used to subjugate the ancients. I'm sure that in many ways, I take this way too seriously, but even celebrating Yule seems to have lost its meaning for me. The holidays have been corrupted for me, but ultimately, I can accept that. I'm not fond of holidays anyway, for various other reasons (Samhain is the only one that I really celebrate, other than the equinoxes and solstices), mostly because the things we're celebrating should be honored every day, and not just on that one.
Holidays are artificial to me. They feel like forcible suggestions of things that we never really forgot, and that somehow excuse ignoring that part of our world the rest of the year. We shouldn't need a day to celebrate the beginning of winter and the beginning of the world recovering from the cold, we should celebrate each step along the way. We shouldn't need a day to celebrate the harvest, we should celebrate the bounty of nature throughout the entire growth and harvest cycle. People like to talk about "the reason for the season", but the reason is all around us at all times of year, and it sure as hell isn't the birth of a charismatic man in Jerusalem. It's the cycle of nature, waxing and waning from vibrancy in the summer to its slumber in the winter.
So until a time comes when a holiday really means something, I'll just keep going through the motions as nature does the same.
Saturday, December 17, 2011
Friday, October 21, 2011
The Golden Age, Upheaval, and Change
There is a recurring theme of the Golden Age in most mythologies surrounding the time before the fall of the old order. What constitutes the old order can vary widely: to the Greeks it was the act of Prometheus stealing fire and delivering it into the hands of man, to the Norse it was the period following the end of Ragnarok, the Hindu have a 5000 year cycle (the Maha Yuga) with recurring Golden Ages that require a tearing down of their "iron age". This extends even to the Abrahamic traditions with Adam and Eve being cast out of Eden for partaking of the fruit of knowledge of good and evil.
This Golden Age often alludes to nature being incredibly bountiful, providing everything that humanity could wish for and more. There is a pronounced presence of the otherworldly. In many cases, the gods dwelt in the same realm as mankind. In Greece, Pan served as a mentor in Arcadia, living amongst his students in the trees. The Eden myth is almost ubiquitous, depicting a paradise where the Abrahamic God resided alongside his creation. The upheaval and fall of the old order always brings this Golden Age to an end, and humanity is left to struggle with the wilderness in a new and harsh environment, fraught with conflict, etc; you know the drill from there.
This is ultimately one of the myths that leads me to my unified theory about the myths and legends. It is far from the only overlap (I'll likely discuss some of them at another date), but this is a rather striking point. This Golden Age would imply that not only were the myths of the gods true, but might also imply the same for other myths and legends. It is widely accepted that in the post-mythological era, magic and monsters are a thing of the past (albeit, this is an acceptance that took quite a while to be complete), at least in the sense that mythology demonstrates. Depending on one's outlook, myth has either always been just stories, or a thing of the past. The recurrence of the Golden Age concept seems to suggest the latter in my opinion; though it has little to no bearing on the present, the idea that this multi-culture spanning concept could stand as an example of where -- or rather when -- these legends originated seems like too great of a coincidence.
Most of these myths appear to be parallel to each other. The numbers may not be reliable in any sense of the word, nor would they suggest anything remotely resembling the Golden Age returning any time soon, but the idea of a returning cycle seems to make sense. Symbols of eternity are rampant throughout mythology, and much as the seasons themselves, humanity's path seems to move in a repeating circle. The notion of falling and returning to this paradise, to this utopia of a Golden Age doesn't seem so far fetched when one considers how far we must fall and how quickly we climb in our scientific pursuits.
And yet, that poses another question, more philosophical in nature than theoretical contemplation of mythologies: If humanity flows through cycles of time, rising and falling to and from a Golden Age paradise, are we in our current path ascending or crashing down to earth?
This Golden Age often alludes to nature being incredibly bountiful, providing everything that humanity could wish for and more. There is a pronounced presence of the otherworldly. In many cases, the gods dwelt in the same realm as mankind. In Greece, Pan served as a mentor in Arcadia, living amongst his students in the trees. The Eden myth is almost ubiquitous, depicting a paradise where the Abrahamic God resided alongside his creation. The upheaval and fall of the old order always brings this Golden Age to an end, and humanity is left to struggle with the wilderness in a new and harsh environment, fraught with conflict, etc; you know the drill from there.
This is ultimately one of the myths that leads me to my unified theory about the myths and legends. It is far from the only overlap (I'll likely discuss some of them at another date), but this is a rather striking point. This Golden Age would imply that not only were the myths of the gods true, but might also imply the same for other myths and legends. It is widely accepted that in the post-mythological era, magic and monsters are a thing of the past (albeit, this is an acceptance that took quite a while to be complete), at least in the sense that mythology demonstrates. Depending on one's outlook, myth has either always been just stories, or a thing of the past. The recurrence of the Golden Age concept seems to suggest the latter in my opinion; though it has little to no bearing on the present, the idea that this multi-culture spanning concept could stand as an example of where -- or rather when -- these legends originated seems like too great of a coincidence.
Most of these myths appear to be parallel to each other. The numbers may not be reliable in any sense of the word, nor would they suggest anything remotely resembling the Golden Age returning any time soon, but the idea of a returning cycle seems to make sense. Symbols of eternity are rampant throughout mythology, and much as the seasons themselves, humanity's path seems to move in a repeating circle. The notion of falling and returning to this paradise, to this utopia of a Golden Age doesn't seem so far fetched when one considers how far we must fall and how quickly we climb in our scientific pursuits.
And yet, that poses another question, more philosophical in nature than theoretical contemplation of mythologies: If humanity flows through cycles of time, rising and falling to and from a Golden Age paradise, are we in our current path ascending or crashing down to earth?
Monday, October 17, 2011
12 Days 'til Samhain
My favorite time of year is just around the corner, and I for one can't wait. Most of the people I know get excited about Christmas, regardless of whether they're Christian or not, but for me, this is the big one. Always has been, really. At least, it has been since I grew out of the "Look at all these presents!" stage (which, probably not coincidentally, was well after I grew out of the "Catholicism isn't so bad" stage).
I was never really one to celebrate holidays, and I'm still not huge on it. This time of year, that mindset really hits home. Thanksgiving is up next, and I find that pointless, since we should be giving thanks every day for what we have in our lives. Setting aside a single day to give thanks and treating that as something special just seems silly to me. Obviously, I don't celebrate Christmas aside from how it affects friends and family members that do; in fact, I'm the only member of the family that has fully separated from that belief system so far as to abandon the religious holidays.
Samhain, however, has always held a special place in my heart. Even as a child when I stuck with calling it Halloween, Samhain was one of my favorite times of year. Part of it comes from my morbid sense of humor, since it's a time where skulls and bats become par for the course, but as I've explored my own spirituality, the deeper reasons have become more clear. Samhain is a time associated with a thinning of the veil between the living and the Otherworld, brought about in part by nature's decline toward dormancy where the wilderness wanes and supplies become scarce. It's an echo of an older time, of course, but one that still has meaning. We may not be facing a winter where we have to sit on our personal supply stores and ration out food and drink until spring, but we still see the wax and wane of the wilderness; that ebb and flow that thins the veil is still well within our reach.
I'm not going to get into whether that veil really exists or not, or whether it thins or not, or any of those other questions here. That's something that can be debated for days on end without reaching a definitive outcome. The important thing is the metaphor behind the veil. This is a time of remembrance and reflection. This is a time to honor your ancestors and take into consideration all that has come to pass in the prior year. This is a time of celebration of what nature has provided us. Most of all, this is a time to meditate and prepare on the year ahead.
I was never really one to celebrate holidays, and I'm still not huge on it. This time of year, that mindset really hits home. Thanksgiving is up next, and I find that pointless, since we should be giving thanks every day for what we have in our lives. Setting aside a single day to give thanks and treating that as something special just seems silly to me. Obviously, I don't celebrate Christmas aside from how it affects friends and family members that do; in fact, I'm the only member of the family that has fully separated from that belief system so far as to abandon the religious holidays.
Samhain, however, has always held a special place in my heart. Even as a child when I stuck with calling it Halloween, Samhain was one of my favorite times of year. Part of it comes from my morbid sense of humor, since it's a time where skulls and bats become par for the course, but as I've explored my own spirituality, the deeper reasons have become more clear. Samhain is a time associated with a thinning of the veil between the living and the Otherworld, brought about in part by nature's decline toward dormancy where the wilderness wanes and supplies become scarce. It's an echo of an older time, of course, but one that still has meaning. We may not be facing a winter where we have to sit on our personal supply stores and ration out food and drink until spring, but we still see the wax and wane of the wilderness; that ebb and flow that thins the veil is still well within our reach.
I'm not going to get into whether that veil really exists or not, or whether it thins or not, or any of those other questions here. That's something that can be debated for days on end without reaching a definitive outcome. The important thing is the metaphor behind the veil. This is a time of remembrance and reflection. This is a time to honor your ancestors and take into consideration all that has come to pass in the prior year. This is a time of celebration of what nature has provided us. Most of all, this is a time to meditate and prepare on the year ahead.
Wednesday, October 12, 2011
Sifting Through Ashes
Part of being a pagan in the modern age requires you to accept the fact that any heritage you might hold dear from the ancient age is going to be filtered by what laid the ancients low. The simple truth is that most of the true myths of the Celts and the Norse, as with many others, have been twisted and changed without any reliable means of restoration to their original state. Unfortunate though it may be, many of the ancients lacked a written history, and relied on the spoken word to relate their traditions and beliefs through the generations. With the spread of Rome and its conversion methods, those spoken myths took on aspects of the Catholic belief and were subject to one of three fates; either they became vilified as sinister things, or they became remade as saintly figures, or they became fodder for simpler stories that had any sense of belief stripped from them.
The efforts of Rome were perhaps most successful in dealing with the Celts. Not only were the mythologies obscured in the destruction of their oral traditions, but any trace of the mainland-Celts were reduced to interpretations of relics. The druids of the ancient time were all but eradicated, and even the rare mention of them left so little information that we are held guessing as to what their entire purpose was (modern interpretations are certainly inspiring and have a sense of "right"-ness attached for me). Those of us who want to follow in the footsteps of the ancients are forced to sift through the ashes for those bits and pieces left strewn among the remains. We lack a full picture of the "truth" of the old ways.
It is for this reason above all others that I stress finding a personal truth when discussing the matter with pagans new to the path. Belief is a very powerful thing, but if you're adhering to someone else's vision, that belief will never be as strong as its full potential. Yes, there are certainly sticking points that we can all agree on -- the names of certain figures, their roles, their breadth of influence -- and those are points that won't get you far in terms of discussion with others if you ignore them (if you view, for example, Odin as a pink-haired punk rocker on an amplifier turned up to 11, most Norse pagans won't be too amused, even though they'd take that better than a Catholic viewing the same depiction of Christ). The hazier details, on the other hand -- the symbolism, the emotion -- are far more mutable and are made more powerful if taken at a more personal level.
You have to sift through those ashes for yourself and make your own way into the path of your choice. And really, that goes for anyone on any path; I would offer the same advice to Christians. No one can take the journey of discovery for you, and you shouldn't want them to. Use the myths as a starting point, take advantage of what has been pieced together in a reconstructive effort, but don't be afraid to let your mind wander into those uncertain details and ponder what makes the most sense to you. Question everything and take nothing at face value. After all, it wasn't in the spirits of the ancients to just blindly follow what was set before them. They were imaginative, innovators, and creators that pursued their paths in a very honest and genuine way; they resisted the change in the world to resist losing their truth. We, as their spiritual descendents, owe them the same honesty in our pursuit of their half-lost truths.
The efforts of Rome were perhaps most successful in dealing with the Celts. Not only were the mythologies obscured in the destruction of their oral traditions, but any trace of the mainland-Celts were reduced to interpretations of relics. The druids of the ancient time were all but eradicated, and even the rare mention of them left so little information that we are held guessing as to what their entire purpose was (modern interpretations are certainly inspiring and have a sense of "right"-ness attached for me). Those of us who want to follow in the footsteps of the ancients are forced to sift through the ashes for those bits and pieces left strewn among the remains. We lack a full picture of the "truth" of the old ways.
It is for this reason above all others that I stress finding a personal truth when discussing the matter with pagans new to the path. Belief is a very powerful thing, but if you're adhering to someone else's vision, that belief will never be as strong as its full potential. Yes, there are certainly sticking points that we can all agree on -- the names of certain figures, their roles, their breadth of influence -- and those are points that won't get you far in terms of discussion with others if you ignore them (if you view, for example, Odin as a pink-haired punk rocker on an amplifier turned up to 11, most Norse pagans won't be too amused, even though they'd take that better than a Catholic viewing the same depiction of Christ). The hazier details, on the other hand -- the symbolism, the emotion -- are far more mutable and are made more powerful if taken at a more personal level.
You have to sift through those ashes for yourself and make your own way into the path of your choice. And really, that goes for anyone on any path; I would offer the same advice to Christians. No one can take the journey of discovery for you, and you shouldn't want them to. Use the myths as a starting point, take advantage of what has been pieced together in a reconstructive effort, but don't be afraid to let your mind wander into those uncertain details and ponder what makes the most sense to you. Question everything and take nothing at face value. After all, it wasn't in the spirits of the ancients to just blindly follow what was set before them. They were imaginative, innovators, and creators that pursued their paths in a very honest and genuine way; they resisted the change in the world to resist losing their truth. We, as their spiritual descendents, owe them the same honesty in our pursuit of their half-lost truths.
Monday, June 27, 2011
Becoming the Sword
It's an ever-growing trend to go one of two ways in today's society: we either embrace our emotions and become seen as weak-willed and wishy-washy (or in a positive light, nurturing and empathetic -- though the extremes taken are seldom so positive), or we become so hardened and callous to the world around us that we lose the capacity for true empathy. This is particularly visible in the current trends in high-emotive/increasingly permissive parenting and low-empathy/increasingly self-centered teenagers -- one is most certainly partly responsible for the other, and the whole thing is certainly cyclical to previous generations. This pattern of personal growth reminds me greatly of working with raw metals. If steel is left too soft, it becomes unable to perform the task; if it becomes too hard and rigid, it snaps under the pressure far too easily.
I can say that I've seen both extremes from a very personal perspective. As a child, I was very sensitive and the rigors of bullying and general frustrations left me little more than a weak and pitiable mess, both physically and emotionally. I was very much the unrefined ore: soft, malleable, easily impressed upon by my surroundings, and easily broken for that weakness. I knew what it felt like to be powerless in that environment; to feel as though there was no hope and no way out of the emotional quagmire that I had found myself residing in. I would hardly call what I had in that period of my existence a "life". I had a miserable time at school, and had grown to loathe most of my peers, but most of all I had grown to loathe and despise myself for my weakness.
When I removed myself from the situation (at the end of 8th grade, I insisted upon home schooling to complete my basic education), the first refinements were able to begin. Those weaknesses that I had come to detest in myself were gradually worn away through a combination of simply removing myself from the triggers that made me so miserable, using humor to lash out at things which angered me, and beginning the steps to lose the morbid-obesity label that I had earned myself up until that point. This path continued until very recently, in all honesty, when I began to realize just how little concern I had left for those who I don't know personally, and how readily I could simply switch off even that distinction. It could be said that I had become so hardened to the world around me that I was on the verge of shattering.
In keeping with the metaphor, I had reached the point where a proper smith must decide whether to cease at the too-hardened point that has been reached, or to scrap the piece and start anew. Of course, it's not really that simple to just discard part of yourself, it's more a question of softening that hardened outer-layer that's been tempered into place -- undoing the process, in a sense -- that matters. You have to strive for that balance where you'll neither bend -- as the soft metal will do -- nor break -- as the hardened steel would. Much as swordsmithing, this is a fine art that takes a lifetime to perfect, and I am by no means a master in finding that balance.
I still consider myself to be too hardened in many ways. I lock any sort of outward show of emotions inside myself until I reach a breaking point, and even then that "break" is very controlled and carefully measured (always in solitude, mind you -- I think I'd be far too self-conscious to express it in front of someone else). Much like tempered steel, I use the fueled fire of anger and frustration to hold my hardened exterior together. Not the healthiest methods, but they have certainly proven efficient over the years. Further exploration of the spiritual part of me in the last few years has made it much easier to comprehend a lot of the reasons that I react and handle things the way that I do, not to mention the aid in developing better coping mechanisms than turning myself into my own whipping post all the time. I've been experimenting with the concept of resonant meditation (emotional resonance, not auditory) to remedy that, with some success of late.
The ultimate point of the process is this: Without being properly forged one cannot become fulfilled in their true purpose, and if one gives in to the forging too readily they can become far too rigid to sustain their integrity. One must become as the sword to reach that fine balance of flexibility and strength in order to know their true potential. It is a process that never truly ends.
I can say that I've seen both extremes from a very personal perspective. As a child, I was very sensitive and the rigors of bullying and general frustrations left me little more than a weak and pitiable mess, both physically and emotionally. I was very much the unrefined ore: soft, malleable, easily impressed upon by my surroundings, and easily broken for that weakness. I knew what it felt like to be powerless in that environment; to feel as though there was no hope and no way out of the emotional quagmire that I had found myself residing in. I would hardly call what I had in that period of my existence a "life". I had a miserable time at school, and had grown to loathe most of my peers, but most of all I had grown to loathe and despise myself for my weakness.
When I removed myself from the situation (at the end of 8th grade, I insisted upon home schooling to complete my basic education), the first refinements were able to begin. Those weaknesses that I had come to detest in myself were gradually worn away through a combination of simply removing myself from the triggers that made me so miserable, using humor to lash out at things which angered me, and beginning the steps to lose the morbid-obesity label that I had earned myself up until that point. This path continued until very recently, in all honesty, when I began to realize just how little concern I had left for those who I don't know personally, and how readily I could simply switch off even that distinction. It could be said that I had become so hardened to the world around me that I was on the verge of shattering.
In keeping with the metaphor, I had reached the point where a proper smith must decide whether to cease at the too-hardened point that has been reached, or to scrap the piece and start anew. Of course, it's not really that simple to just discard part of yourself, it's more a question of softening that hardened outer-layer that's been tempered into place -- undoing the process, in a sense -- that matters. You have to strive for that balance where you'll neither bend -- as the soft metal will do -- nor break -- as the hardened steel would. Much as swordsmithing, this is a fine art that takes a lifetime to perfect, and I am by no means a master in finding that balance.
I still consider myself to be too hardened in many ways. I lock any sort of outward show of emotions inside myself until I reach a breaking point, and even then that "break" is very controlled and carefully measured (always in solitude, mind you -- I think I'd be far too self-conscious to express it in front of someone else). Much like tempered steel, I use the fueled fire of anger and frustration to hold my hardened exterior together. Not the healthiest methods, but they have certainly proven efficient over the years. Further exploration of the spiritual part of me in the last few years has made it much easier to comprehend a lot of the reasons that I react and handle things the way that I do, not to mention the aid in developing better coping mechanisms than turning myself into my own whipping post all the time. I've been experimenting with the concept of resonant meditation (emotional resonance, not auditory) to remedy that, with some success of late.
The ultimate point of the process is this: Without being properly forged one cannot become fulfilled in their true purpose, and if one gives in to the forging too readily they can become far too rigid to sustain their integrity. One must become as the sword to reach that fine balance of flexibility and strength in order to know their true potential. It is a process that never truly ends.
Monday, June 6, 2011
An Anachronism of Thought
Anachronisms are defined as something out of place in the present; a throwback (or occasionally something futuristic) that doesn't quite belong. This can be aesthetic in nature -- someone wearing old fashioned clothing that is no longer considered stylish or comfortable -- or it can be functional -- training with a sword or other large close-combat weapon that is long-since outdated in practical use.
To many, reverting to a pagan belief set is an anachronism in its own right, and to an extent, they're right. The cultures that originally held these beliefs are long-gone, and the monotheistic (in theory) faiths have won the day and led the world to its eventual scientific enlightenment. We have a lot of the knowledge now that we once used stories to theorize; we have no urgent need for a god of the storms, since we understand that what causes lightning and thunder is far from supernatural in nature. In many ways, religion as a whole is becoming obsolete, with the emphasis on science taking on the same role that early Christianity once occupied -- spreading rapidly and changing the collective conscious away from the remnants of mysticism and superstition. Atheism is becoming more and more prominent as a religion (and it is a religion to some -- the conviction found in many atheists is downright inspirational as it relates to unerring devotion), and will likely become the dominant system of belief within the next hundred years or so (and no, I'm not one of those that buys into the 2012 nonsense).
While the fate of the Atheism versus Christianity conflict is up for debate, and my opinion is by no means intended as an endorsement or condemnation of either side, it is clear to me that the times are indeed changing. We are not the same culturally as we were when the Roman Empire spread Catholicism throughout Europe. We have a wealth of knowledge at our fingertips now that we lacked then, and there is a noticeable drift away from Christianity going on worldwide. Atheism is on the rise and our secular society is responsible for it. For good or ill, the first-world nations are moving further and further away from mysticism each year. This, to me, appears to be a sign of the inevitable decline of religion and dominance of science -- provable knowledge overcoming faith.
So with the religion that drove my ways under the boot heels in the same position now that the ancients were once in, it is hard to say who the true anachronism is. Not only are the children of religious families abandoning religion for atheism, but a significant number are turning back to the pagan traditions that thrived before the spread of Rome, much as I have. It's something that I've personally observed, even at the small-town community college that I currently attend, somewhere that you would least expect to find any dissent from the predominantly Catholic surroundings, let alone to find as significant of a number as I have. This spread of paganism does truly seem to be a youth-driven movement, and one that intrigues me on many levels.
While many of my friends hold strongly atheist beliefs and are certainly science-minded individuals, a good number are also pagans or out and out non-religious. That in and of itself is far from surprising. Youth groups are often expected to deviate from their parents, particularly if the culture is excessively domineering (and with the sheer number of active churches in this town, that could certainly be argued to be the case). Youth is expected to be more progressive in their ideology, with more liberal values and ideas, and both atheism and paganism can certainly be considered more progressive and liberal than Christianity on a generalized level. That's not the part that I find fascinating.
What I do find fascinating comes mostly down to these aspects: the variety of the people turning pagan, the diversity of those beliefs, the extent to which they believe, and -- in unfortunate cases -- the delusions that seem to accompany the pagan beliefs in some (but by no means a significant number of the sample, especially as compared to the delusions of many Christians in the area). The people really do seem to come from all backgrounds, economically, family-structure, professions, etc. For the most part, the common thread is that we come from Christian families, though a few are fortunate enough to have pagan parents to offer some guidance (and some are unfortunate enough to have delusional pagan parents to cloud their judgment). I've met devotees of the Celts, of the Norse, Wiccans (this is, sadly, where most of the delusional types fall), and a solitary follower of the Summerian gods (whom I didn't get to talk to much, mind you). I've met those who believe in the power of prayer to the gods as a form of spiritual healing, those who believe in the power of ritual to perform very subtle magics, and -- sadly -- those who believe they have "mojo" and can influence the world with their minds (that last one makes me ask a chicken and the egg question of which came first, the pagan beliefs or the delusions of grandeur, but I presume it's the latter).
Time is cyclical. What was once dominant may waver, but it may just as easily recover and return to its former glory. You see it all the time in popular culture; we are a very fickle species. I myself value the antiquated and anachronistic ways of the Celts. In the cyclical shifts of time, we are eternally fluctuating from the present to the past. In holding on to such antiquated beliefs, are we becoming the anachronism, or forming the future?
To many, reverting to a pagan belief set is an anachronism in its own right, and to an extent, they're right. The cultures that originally held these beliefs are long-gone, and the monotheistic (in theory) faiths have won the day and led the world to its eventual scientific enlightenment. We have a lot of the knowledge now that we once used stories to theorize; we have no urgent need for a god of the storms, since we understand that what causes lightning and thunder is far from supernatural in nature. In many ways, religion as a whole is becoming obsolete, with the emphasis on science taking on the same role that early Christianity once occupied -- spreading rapidly and changing the collective conscious away from the remnants of mysticism and superstition. Atheism is becoming more and more prominent as a religion (and it is a religion to some -- the conviction found in many atheists is downright inspirational as it relates to unerring devotion), and will likely become the dominant system of belief within the next hundred years or so (and no, I'm not one of those that buys into the 2012 nonsense).
While the fate of the Atheism versus Christianity conflict is up for debate, and my opinion is by no means intended as an endorsement or condemnation of either side, it is clear to me that the times are indeed changing. We are not the same culturally as we were when the Roman Empire spread Catholicism throughout Europe. We have a wealth of knowledge at our fingertips now that we lacked then, and there is a noticeable drift away from Christianity going on worldwide. Atheism is on the rise and our secular society is responsible for it. For good or ill, the first-world nations are moving further and further away from mysticism each year. This, to me, appears to be a sign of the inevitable decline of religion and dominance of science -- provable knowledge overcoming faith.
So with the religion that drove my ways under the boot heels in the same position now that the ancients were once in, it is hard to say who the true anachronism is. Not only are the children of religious families abandoning religion for atheism, but a significant number are turning back to the pagan traditions that thrived before the spread of Rome, much as I have. It's something that I've personally observed, even at the small-town community college that I currently attend, somewhere that you would least expect to find any dissent from the predominantly Catholic surroundings, let alone to find as significant of a number as I have. This spread of paganism does truly seem to be a youth-driven movement, and one that intrigues me on many levels.
While many of my friends hold strongly atheist beliefs and are certainly science-minded individuals, a good number are also pagans or out and out non-religious. That in and of itself is far from surprising. Youth groups are often expected to deviate from their parents, particularly if the culture is excessively domineering (and with the sheer number of active churches in this town, that could certainly be argued to be the case). Youth is expected to be more progressive in their ideology, with more liberal values and ideas, and both atheism and paganism can certainly be considered more progressive and liberal than Christianity on a generalized level. That's not the part that I find fascinating.
What I do find fascinating comes mostly down to these aspects: the variety of the people turning pagan, the diversity of those beliefs, the extent to which they believe, and -- in unfortunate cases -- the delusions that seem to accompany the pagan beliefs in some (but by no means a significant number of the sample, especially as compared to the delusions of many Christians in the area). The people really do seem to come from all backgrounds, economically, family-structure, professions, etc. For the most part, the common thread is that we come from Christian families, though a few are fortunate enough to have pagan parents to offer some guidance (and some are unfortunate enough to have delusional pagan parents to cloud their judgment). I've met devotees of the Celts, of the Norse, Wiccans (this is, sadly, where most of the delusional types fall), and a solitary follower of the Summerian gods (whom I didn't get to talk to much, mind you). I've met those who believe in the power of prayer to the gods as a form of spiritual healing, those who believe in the power of ritual to perform very subtle magics, and -- sadly -- those who believe they have "mojo" and can influence the world with their minds (that last one makes me ask a chicken and the egg question of which came first, the pagan beliefs or the delusions of grandeur, but I presume it's the latter).
Time is cyclical. What was once dominant may waver, but it may just as easily recover and return to its former glory. You see it all the time in popular culture; we are a very fickle species. I myself value the antiquated and anachronistic ways of the Celts. In the cyclical shifts of time, we are eternally fluctuating from the present to the past. In holding on to such antiquated beliefs, are we becoming the anachronism, or forming the future?
Saturday, May 28, 2011
The Warrior's Journey
For as long as I can remember, I've been fascinated with the ideal of the warrior. More specifically, I've been fascinated by the ideal of the warrior as presented in ancient Europe, when warfare meant more than training to use guns and explosives, and battles were fought face to face. I was drawn to the ideal that the medieval warrior presented: strong, skilled, fierce, and proud. When most kids were playing with trucks, I was out in the yard swinging a plastic axe that I bought for Halloween and modified to be a bit more durable. I was sparring with thin air, but it really does go back that far for me. Eventually -- I can't quite pin-point when, but I want to say I was around 10 or so -- I transitioned to focus mainly on swords rather than axes, and the sword has been my passion ever since (to the point where I currently own a polypropelyne hand-and-a-half waster that I train with every few days, as well as a pair of matching training daggers -- and I've got plans to get my first real wooden shield in the very near future).
That warrior ideal has influenced my outlook on my philosophy quite a bit over the years, as well. The deeper that I got into the Celtic traditions, it was the Morrigan and stories of warriors like Cu Chulainn that had me enthralled. I wanted to emulate the uncompromising and indomitable spirit that the warrior tales presented. I had always been headstrong as it was, and felt the need to take it upon myself to protect the people that I cared about. I had a volatile temper that I had some difficulties controlling at that stage. In my youth, I thought the free-flowing berserk battle rage was the epitome of power (I was an angry young man, and bitter in a lot of ways), but I grew up and quite quickly realized that there were flaws in that. This is where the journey comes into play.
In exploring the concepts of the rest of the world, I picked up on other warrior cultures. The vikings were striking in that they reflected a very similar berserk styling to Cu Chulainn that reinforced the ideal a bit at first. The concept that a valorous death was the key to being judged worthy of the afterlife was appealing on a visceral level, but the more that I matured, the more I saw how impractical that was in a modern world. Dying by the sword has become an antiquated notion. So instead, I looked to more "disciplined" cultures for inspiration. I'd always been intrigued by martial arts, and some of the concepts of orders like the Shao Lin seemed to fit my needs quite well -- self control and meditation being chief among them. This is ultimately how I learned to control my temper, and I've had solid reins on it ever since. It's a lot like forging a good weapon; you can't just take a piece of raw ore and expect it to turn into a sword. You have to smelt it, hammer it until the metal is without flaws, and forge it into the right shape for it to be of any use.
When I started to branch and fine tune out my personal philosophies, the warrior ideal played a large part in those selections. When I fully dedicated myself to the Celtic traditions, I chose to devote myself to the Morrigan, first and foremost. This was an easy decision. Not only did the Morrigan have the aspect of a war deity, but she also represented fertility and death, and as a triple-goddess, embodied the cyclical path of life. Cernunnos was another heavily inspirational figure, as a god of nature and the hunt -- a different type of warrior in my view. As my beliefs expanded, Odin was brought into the fold. Like the Morrigan, Odin was associated with war, death, and rebirth of sorts, and like Cernunnos he was associated with the wild hunt. Fitting further into what I value on a symbolic level, Odin is also heavily associated with the raven, a personal totem of mine that I often meditate on for insight and knowledge of my own reality.
On a semi-related note, I've had a rough couple of months because I'd gone so long without keeping these ideals in mind. I started to be a little on-edge, and short-tempered. Long story short, going back to basics and getting back into my sword training and meditation has really gotten me back on track. It's all about having that outlet for any frustrations to be vented in a healthy way, and giving myself time to think and really center myself again. It's easier said than done most times, but it all goes back to the sword analogy -- you've got to be forged before you can be functional.
That warrior ideal has influenced my outlook on my philosophy quite a bit over the years, as well. The deeper that I got into the Celtic traditions, it was the Morrigan and stories of warriors like Cu Chulainn that had me enthralled. I wanted to emulate the uncompromising and indomitable spirit that the warrior tales presented. I had always been headstrong as it was, and felt the need to take it upon myself to protect the people that I cared about. I had a volatile temper that I had some difficulties controlling at that stage. In my youth, I thought the free-flowing berserk battle rage was the epitome of power (I was an angry young man, and bitter in a lot of ways), but I grew up and quite quickly realized that there were flaws in that. This is where the journey comes into play.
In exploring the concepts of the rest of the world, I picked up on other warrior cultures. The vikings were striking in that they reflected a very similar berserk styling to Cu Chulainn that reinforced the ideal a bit at first. The concept that a valorous death was the key to being judged worthy of the afterlife was appealing on a visceral level, but the more that I matured, the more I saw how impractical that was in a modern world. Dying by the sword has become an antiquated notion. So instead, I looked to more "disciplined" cultures for inspiration. I'd always been intrigued by martial arts, and some of the concepts of orders like the Shao Lin seemed to fit my needs quite well -- self control and meditation being chief among them. This is ultimately how I learned to control my temper, and I've had solid reins on it ever since. It's a lot like forging a good weapon; you can't just take a piece of raw ore and expect it to turn into a sword. You have to smelt it, hammer it until the metal is without flaws, and forge it into the right shape for it to be of any use.
When I started to branch and fine tune out my personal philosophies, the warrior ideal played a large part in those selections. When I fully dedicated myself to the Celtic traditions, I chose to devote myself to the Morrigan, first and foremost. This was an easy decision. Not only did the Morrigan have the aspect of a war deity, but she also represented fertility and death, and as a triple-goddess, embodied the cyclical path of life. Cernunnos was another heavily inspirational figure, as a god of nature and the hunt -- a different type of warrior in my view. As my beliefs expanded, Odin was brought into the fold. Like the Morrigan, Odin was associated with war, death, and rebirth of sorts, and like Cernunnos he was associated with the wild hunt. Fitting further into what I value on a symbolic level, Odin is also heavily associated with the raven, a personal totem of mine that I often meditate on for insight and knowledge of my own reality.
On a semi-related note, I've had a rough couple of months because I'd gone so long without keeping these ideals in mind. I started to be a little on-edge, and short-tempered. Long story short, going back to basics and getting back into my sword training and meditation has really gotten me back on track. It's all about having that outlet for any frustrations to be vented in a healthy way, and giving myself time to think and really center myself again. It's easier said than done most times, but it all goes back to the sword analogy -- you've got to be forged before you can be functional.
World Wandering
I've gone to great lengths to avoid being yet another narrow-minded man of faith over the years. I've gained at least superficial knowledge about most of the various polytheistic cultures of the ancient world, and I've retained most of what I learned about Christianity and Judaism from my time in Catholic school. I've looked into Islam and Hinduism, Buddhism and Taoist Animism, and several of the Pacific Islander traditions as well. It's easy to become highly specialized when you're drawn to philosophy, and I've tried to avoid becoming so specialized that I can't see the forest for the trees. While I do hold certain. . . antagonistic views toward the Catholic church for the actions of the organization over the centuries since its formation, I have little issue with the religion and certainly no issue with the vast majority of its faithful.
For the most part, I associate myself with the Celtic and Druidic traditions. I place tremendous value in the pentacle as a symbol of protection and elemental balance -- as it should be viewed, rather than the symbol of "the devil" that the media (and the Roman Church) has chosen to slap onto it. I place value in the Triquetra (trinity knot), not as a symbol of the Holy Trinity of the Catholics, but as a symbol of the various triumvirates found in the natural world -- youth, adulthood, old age; life, death, rebirth; mind, body, spirit; I could go on. Both symbols are present in multiple cultures with a few variations, and both typically take on a cyclical or protective aspect, quite similar in effect to what the cross has become for Christians.
However, this eclectic study has left me with a few theological differences from many other neo-Celts/neo-Druids. For one, I don't adhere to a strictly Celtic divinity. When you expand your horizons, you're bound to pick up aspects that suit you well enough to incorporate into your perspective, and my expanded studies has certainly led to that. I've grown to think it incredibly short-sighted to think that a single pantheon is the entirety of divinity when you've already taken the step into polytheism. If there's room for an entire pantheon of gods and goddesses, who are you to say that the others aren't every bit as relevant? My personal theory is that all pantheons are co-existent, if separate; the Celts and the Norse, the Greeks and the Egyptians, the Summerians and the Aztecs can all have equal validity when you look at it the right way. In my view, they are ultimately just different "families" (in a more general sense than the ancient myth structure already presents) descended from the greater source of creation (be it Chaos, some ancient titan figure, or even string theory). That goes for the angelic figures of the Abrahamic faiths, too; after all, what's the real difference between figures such as Michael and Thor?
I've adopted a more hybridized form of the Celtic pantheon. While the Morrigan and Cernunnos feature prominently in my worship, I've incorporated several Norse elements into the core of what I do. Odin, in particular, has become a mainstay, as has the use of runecasting as a form of meditative divination (I don't believe that I can tell the future, let me make that clear -- but I do believe that drawing out runes and using the key concept of those runes as a starting point to study a situation can be incredibly useful). There's a lot of overlap between the two, and there rightly should be -- the Celts and Vikings stand as two of the most enduring of the ancient cultures, and certainly held similar values, not to mention the overlap and mingling of their traditions that occurred during Norman invasions of the future British Isles. I think I'll save the why and how of a lot of the incorporation for another post, though, since it really is a long explanation and worthy of its own entry.
Diversity is the key to finding balance in anything. If you're only looking at a situation from one angle, then you're seeing next to nothing. You need those different perspectives to enable you to truly understand what you're looking at. When it comes to diversifying your understanding of polytheism and how pantheons function, you can really find an enlightening blend; what one pantheon may lack, another will likely provide in spades, and if the core themes of one pantheon aren't right for you but one deity speaks so intensely to what you hold dear, there's nothing wrong with incorporating that into your personal philosophy. Remember: the modern world has become a melting pot; where some might wish to remove impurities, they forget that pure metals are weak, and it is only through blending in carbon and other metals that it becomes strong. Forge yourself from diverse sources, wander the world's collective conscious, and find what fits -- that's the key to an enduring sense of faith.
For the most part, I associate myself with the Celtic and Druidic traditions. I place tremendous value in the pentacle as a symbol of protection and elemental balance -- as it should be viewed, rather than the symbol of "the devil" that the media (and the Roman Church) has chosen to slap onto it. I place value in the Triquetra (trinity knot), not as a symbol of the Holy Trinity of the Catholics, but as a symbol of the various triumvirates found in the natural world -- youth, adulthood, old age; life, death, rebirth; mind, body, spirit; I could go on. Both symbols are present in multiple cultures with a few variations, and both typically take on a cyclical or protective aspect, quite similar in effect to what the cross has become for Christians.
However, this eclectic study has left me with a few theological differences from many other neo-Celts/neo-Druids. For one, I don't adhere to a strictly Celtic divinity. When you expand your horizons, you're bound to pick up aspects that suit you well enough to incorporate into your perspective, and my expanded studies has certainly led to that. I've grown to think it incredibly short-sighted to think that a single pantheon is the entirety of divinity when you've already taken the step into polytheism. If there's room for an entire pantheon of gods and goddesses, who are you to say that the others aren't every bit as relevant? My personal theory is that all pantheons are co-existent, if separate; the Celts and the Norse, the Greeks and the Egyptians, the Summerians and the Aztecs can all have equal validity when you look at it the right way. In my view, they are ultimately just different "families" (in a more general sense than the ancient myth structure already presents) descended from the greater source of creation (be it Chaos, some ancient titan figure, or even string theory). That goes for the angelic figures of the Abrahamic faiths, too; after all, what's the real difference between figures such as Michael and Thor?
I've adopted a more hybridized form of the Celtic pantheon. While the Morrigan and Cernunnos feature prominently in my worship, I've incorporated several Norse elements into the core of what I do. Odin, in particular, has become a mainstay, as has the use of runecasting as a form of meditative divination (I don't believe that I can tell the future, let me make that clear -- but I do believe that drawing out runes and using the key concept of those runes as a starting point to study a situation can be incredibly useful). There's a lot of overlap between the two, and there rightly should be -- the Celts and Vikings stand as two of the most enduring of the ancient cultures, and certainly held similar values, not to mention the overlap and mingling of their traditions that occurred during Norman invasions of the future British Isles. I think I'll save the why and how of a lot of the incorporation for another post, though, since it really is a long explanation and worthy of its own entry.
Diversity is the key to finding balance in anything. If you're only looking at a situation from one angle, then you're seeing next to nothing. You need those different perspectives to enable you to truly understand what you're looking at. When it comes to diversifying your understanding of polytheism and how pantheons function, you can really find an enlightening blend; what one pantheon may lack, another will likely provide in spades, and if the core themes of one pantheon aren't right for you but one deity speaks so intensely to what you hold dear, there's nothing wrong with incorporating that into your personal philosophy. Remember: the modern world has become a melting pot; where some might wish to remove impurities, they forget that pure metals are weak, and it is only through blending in carbon and other metals that it becomes strong. Forge yourself from diverse sources, wander the world's collective conscious, and find what fits -- that's the key to an enduring sense of faith.
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
Walk like those who have come before.
One of the main tenets that drives me in terms of my personal philosophy is the connection that I feel to my ancestors. "Walkabout", in a more global-tradition sense, is precisely that: a practice of the Australian Aborigines where a young man goes into the wilderness and retreads the footsteps of his ancestors. One could easily compare the spiritual and philosophical journey that I've undertaken to the more literal version of the Aborigines, though certainly my process has been less physically grueling and environmentally challenging (though if there was an opportunity for me to do a true, walk-out-into-nature-for-six-months exercise, I'd be all for it).
A lot of the ideological split that started me on this path of dropping the baggage and seeking my own truth came from learning how the Celts were "converted" to Catholicism, and ultimately that's why I still chafe at Catholic traditions to this day (as well as other political and religious movements, for that matter). While I'm not fond of supporting any opposition to the theory of survival of the fittest (I'm a Darwinist at heart, regardless of spiritual philosophy, and I think in many ways most ancient cultures were, as well), I feel that I have to reject the means used to conquer such a proud people. Subversion and assimilation aren't just tools to integrate new people into a larger collective; they are weapons to eradicate what made an enemy who they are. This is why I cannot accept the Catholic preaching of respecting others and being proponents of peace -- they are and have always been proponents of war and destruction of other cultures.
That was what initially led me to drop the weight of Catholicism to the ground and seek out a new path. When I felt the call of the Celtic traditions, I knew that I was on the right track. Obviously, I'm not saying it's the right path for everyone -- that's something that each individual has to decide on their own -- but for me, looking back to what those traditional myths and legends represented and what those gods and goddesses brought forward was an important step. I also took a good, hard look at what was valued by the Celtic peoples. While much of the true nature of the Celts was indeed eradicated by the Roman Catholic empire's expansion, there are several notes that stand out above the rest: the Celts had a deep love of the arts, a deep love of storytelling, and a deep love for battle.
Naturally, those three things don't tell us much. Every culture appreciates the arts, otherwise we would have nothing left to visualize what those cultures were like. Every culture needed storytelling, as before written history, the oral tradition was all that we had. Every culture prized warfare, because that was the primary means of ensuring one's survival among the others. However, approached from the Celtic perspective, these things take on a different light. Celtic artwork has a certain affect, a certain character, to it that other cultures lacked. Celtic stories relate their world in an ever-so-slightly different manner from other cultures. Celtic warfare reflected the truth of the times, that battle was a primal, dangerous thing better met with ferocity than with regimented drills. While they may have met their ultimate end at the hands of the Holy Roman empire, the Celts were preserved as glimpses in the key holidays, which allowed for the Celtic Revival to occur centuries later. The Celts were survivors, and that in particular is something that I seek to emulate.
A lot of the ideological split that started me on this path of dropping the baggage and seeking my own truth came from learning how the Celts were "converted" to Catholicism, and ultimately that's why I still chafe at Catholic traditions to this day (as well as other political and religious movements, for that matter). While I'm not fond of supporting any opposition to the theory of survival of the fittest (I'm a Darwinist at heart, regardless of spiritual philosophy, and I think in many ways most ancient cultures were, as well), I feel that I have to reject the means used to conquer such a proud people. Subversion and assimilation aren't just tools to integrate new people into a larger collective; they are weapons to eradicate what made an enemy who they are. This is why I cannot accept the Catholic preaching of respecting others and being proponents of peace -- they are and have always been proponents of war and destruction of other cultures.
That was what initially led me to drop the weight of Catholicism to the ground and seek out a new path. When I felt the call of the Celtic traditions, I knew that I was on the right track. Obviously, I'm not saying it's the right path for everyone -- that's something that each individual has to decide on their own -- but for me, looking back to what those traditional myths and legends represented and what those gods and goddesses brought forward was an important step. I also took a good, hard look at what was valued by the Celtic peoples. While much of the true nature of the Celts was indeed eradicated by the Roman Catholic empire's expansion, there are several notes that stand out above the rest: the Celts had a deep love of the arts, a deep love of storytelling, and a deep love for battle.
Naturally, those three things don't tell us much. Every culture appreciates the arts, otherwise we would have nothing left to visualize what those cultures were like. Every culture needed storytelling, as before written history, the oral tradition was all that we had. Every culture prized warfare, because that was the primary means of ensuring one's survival among the others. However, approached from the Celtic perspective, these things take on a different light. Celtic artwork has a certain affect, a certain character, to it that other cultures lacked. Celtic stories relate their world in an ever-so-slightly different manner from other cultures. Celtic warfare reflected the truth of the times, that battle was a primal, dangerous thing better met with ferocity than with regimented drills. While they may have met their ultimate end at the hands of the Holy Roman empire, the Celts were preserved as glimpses in the key holidays, which allowed for the Celtic Revival to occur centuries later. The Celts were survivors, and that in particular is something that I seek to emulate.
Saturday, May 14, 2011
What is walkabout?
Walkabout is a straight-forward and simple concept that goes straight to the core of what I do. When you go on walkabout, you leave everything that holds you down and keeps you from making forward progress in the world behind in search of something new and better. This can be done in a literal sense -- walking out the front door and spending the next eight or ten hours simply walking through the neighborhood and beyond -- or it can be far more metaphorical. I am a true supporter of the idea in both senses. Sometimes, you just have to go on walkabout.
I'm currently 26 years old, and for the better part of the last decade, I have held beliefs that can be best described as druidic in nature and hybridized Celtic in origin. I suppose that could be viewed as the first time that I entertained the notion of a walkabout. I was raised in a heavily Catholic environment, with all of the spiritual and emotional baggage that comes with it. My mother was never heavily religious, so I was spared the full brunt of the church, but my father's side of the family is fairly devout in varying degrees (though I wouldn't call them hard-liners). However, the first nine years of my education were spent in a Catholic elementary school, where Religion was a daily class period and there was a scheduled in-school mass at least once a month (not to mention confession before the holidays). Suffice to say, that wasn't "my religion". It didn't click, it never really made me bow down in belief. The attitudes of the nuns and the generally disingenuous way that the priests gave their sermons made it clear to me that what they were preaching, wasn't what I was interested in.
So shortly after leaving that environment, I started to drop the baggage. The significance of the holidays was the first to go, followed by the general sense of obligation to feel "wrong" for doing things that are part of basic human nature. We're animals -- pure and simple. If some creator god made us as animals with base instincts and needs and desires, then why should we deny those desires (within reason, of course). It occurred to me at a very young age that most of what organized religion was preaching was all about social control, and I didn't want that kind of leash around my neck. My little journey took me through dalliances with atheism (too nihilistic for me, not enough science exists to back it up just yet), Satanism (LaVey had some good points: why should we deny the self? But ultimately, too much Id here, not enough moderation), and a glancing look at Wicca (dime-store New Age consumerism in my book at the time, though I've gained some new-found respect for it recently). Ultimately, I came to the logical conclusion based on my heritage.
Coming from a family that is Irish on my mother's side and Scottish on my father's, I've always been drawn to that Celtic heritage, so that's where I started my search. Just about immediately, I was drawn to the stories about the Celtic gods and goddesses of Ireland, the Tuatha de Danu, and the image presented by one goddess in particular: The Morrigan. There's a sense of balance to the Morrigan that I find appealing for three reasons: the duality of being a fertility goddess and a death goddess, the war-goddess aspect, and the primal reaction that I have due to her association with the raven in Irish tradition. At that shallow level that I began at, it made sense for me to find a deity that simply resonated with me on a surface level to term my patron -- regardless of why I was doing it. Ultimately, however, it has proven to be a far better match than I had ever expected, and as my journey into my own spirituality has continued, the bond that I feel toward the concept of the Morrigan has only grown stronger (personal evolution and modern minds being what they are, I've since included some Norse and middle-eastern elements as well, but more on that later).
Walkabout has been a recurring theme in my life since then. Whenever stress becomes too much for me, I can just grab my coat and head out the door to let the sidewalks and trails be my comforting shoulder. Whenever I run into a problem with someone that simply cannot be solved, for one reason or another, I have no problem with dropping that baggage and walking on without it. Some might call the ease of how I shed that baggage cold and callous, but I see it in a different light: it truly is a healing act. When someone is being sickened by an infection, they aren't considered cold for taking medicine to get rid of it. This is no different. Walkabout is just another form of spiritual and mental healing, and can be a wonderful experience if you do it for the right reasons. It's all about the journey, and that journey is life: If you never step through that door and begin the journey, you will always remain exactly where you are.
Simply put, walkabout is a way of life.
I'm currently 26 years old, and for the better part of the last decade, I have held beliefs that can be best described as druidic in nature and hybridized Celtic in origin. I suppose that could be viewed as the first time that I entertained the notion of a walkabout. I was raised in a heavily Catholic environment, with all of the spiritual and emotional baggage that comes with it. My mother was never heavily religious, so I was spared the full brunt of the church, but my father's side of the family is fairly devout in varying degrees (though I wouldn't call them hard-liners). However, the first nine years of my education were spent in a Catholic elementary school, where Religion was a daily class period and there was a scheduled in-school mass at least once a month (not to mention confession before the holidays). Suffice to say, that wasn't "my religion". It didn't click, it never really made me bow down in belief. The attitudes of the nuns and the generally disingenuous way that the priests gave their sermons made it clear to me that what they were preaching, wasn't what I was interested in.
So shortly after leaving that environment, I started to drop the baggage. The significance of the holidays was the first to go, followed by the general sense of obligation to feel "wrong" for doing things that are part of basic human nature. We're animals -- pure and simple. If some creator god made us as animals with base instincts and needs and desires, then why should we deny those desires (within reason, of course). It occurred to me at a very young age that most of what organized religion was preaching was all about social control, and I didn't want that kind of leash around my neck. My little journey took me through dalliances with atheism (too nihilistic for me, not enough science exists to back it up just yet), Satanism (LaVey had some good points: why should we deny the self? But ultimately, too much Id here, not enough moderation), and a glancing look at Wicca (dime-store New Age consumerism in my book at the time, though I've gained some new-found respect for it recently). Ultimately, I came to the logical conclusion based on my heritage.
Coming from a family that is Irish on my mother's side and Scottish on my father's, I've always been drawn to that Celtic heritage, so that's where I started my search. Just about immediately, I was drawn to the stories about the Celtic gods and goddesses of Ireland, the Tuatha de Danu, and the image presented by one goddess in particular: The Morrigan. There's a sense of balance to the Morrigan that I find appealing for three reasons: the duality of being a fertility goddess and a death goddess, the war-goddess aspect, and the primal reaction that I have due to her association with the raven in Irish tradition. At that shallow level that I began at, it made sense for me to find a deity that simply resonated with me on a surface level to term my patron -- regardless of why I was doing it. Ultimately, however, it has proven to be a far better match than I had ever expected, and as my journey into my own spirituality has continued, the bond that I feel toward the concept of the Morrigan has only grown stronger (personal evolution and modern minds being what they are, I've since included some Norse and middle-eastern elements as well, but more on that later).
Walkabout has been a recurring theme in my life since then. Whenever stress becomes too much for me, I can just grab my coat and head out the door to let the sidewalks and trails be my comforting shoulder. Whenever I run into a problem with someone that simply cannot be solved, for one reason or another, I have no problem with dropping that baggage and walking on without it. Some might call the ease of how I shed that baggage cold and callous, but I see it in a different light: it truly is a healing act. When someone is being sickened by an infection, they aren't considered cold for taking medicine to get rid of it. This is no different. Walkabout is just another form of spiritual and mental healing, and can be a wonderful experience if you do it for the right reasons. It's all about the journey, and that journey is life: If you never step through that door and begin the journey, you will always remain exactly where you are.
Simply put, walkabout is a way of life.
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