May-time, fair season, perfect is its aspect then; blackbirds sing a full song, if there be a scanty beam of day.
The hardy, busy cuckoo calls, welcome noble summer!It calms the bitterness of bad weather, the branching wood is a prickly hedge.
Summer brings low the little stream, the swift herd makes for the water, the long hair of the heather spreads out, the weak white cotton-grass flourishes.
...The smooth sea flows, season when the ocean falls asleep; flowers cover the world.
Bees, whose strength is small, carry with their feet a load reaped from the flowers; the mountain allures the cattle. the ant makes a rich meal.
The harp of the wood plays melody, its music brings perfect peace; colour has settled on every hill, haze on the lake of full water.
The corncrake clacks, a strenuous bard; the high pure waterfall sings a greeting to the warm pool; rustling of rushes has come.
Light swallows dark on high, brisk music encircles the hill, tender rich fruits bud...
...The hardy cuckoo sings, the speckled fish leaps, mighty is the swift warrior.
The vigor of men flourishes, the glory of great hills is unspoiled; every wood is fair from crest to ground, fair each great goodly field.
Delightful is the season's splendour, winter's rough wind has gone; bright is every fertile wood, a joyful peace is summer.
A flock of birds settles...; the green field re-echoes, where there is a brisk bright stream.
A mad ardour upon you to race horses, where the serried host is ranged around; very splendid is the bounty of the cattle-pond, the iris is gold because of it.
A timid persistant frail creature sings at the top of his voice, the lark chants a clear tale - excellent May-time of calm aspect!
Irish; author unknown; ninth-tenth century.
From "A Celtic Miscellany" ed/trans. Kenneth Hurlstone Jackson.
Sunday, May 1, 2011
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
The Hard Choice
It would be wrong to say that I am a fan of eschatology, but it does fascinate me to some extent. I think that the way a culture believes the end of time will occur says as much about it as its cosmogenic narratives do. Unfortunately, for those of use with a proclivity for Celtic cultures, we lack both; or what we have are tiny fragments with tantalizing hints of a much broader set of complimentary myths. Of all the eschatological narratives our there, being discussed and bandied about, my personal favourite is that of Ragnarok, or the twilight of the Aesir. It has everything that makes a story both memorable and enjoyable: prophecies fulfilled, old scores being settled, single combats to the death and the last, great stand of those who would defend the cosmos from oblivion; those willing to sacrifice all they are to purchase a future for those who may come next. I used to balk at the fatalistic tendencies inherent in the tales of the Aesir, and ponder why none of the gods would reject a future that had been written, but not yet come to pass. I questioned the tales and the perception of impotent gods, unable to do anything to change their fate. It took me a while, and some deep discussions with some very wise and eloquent Asatruars to realize that in my dedication of the rejection of fatalism, I missed the point. Perhaps the best example to illustrate this would be to use one of the very episodes in question, a precursor to the main event, so to speak. It is a story involving Tyr, and how he came to lose his hand.
Tyr, a member of the Aesir, god of single combat (among other things) along with the other gods, had grown concerned of the growth of the wolf Fenrir, one of the three children of Loki and Angrboða, and so resolved to chain the great beast, for they had foreknowledge of the doom which would occur as a result of him. They tried three times to bound the wolf, and three times he broke the fetters they laid about him. Finally, Odin resolved to have the dwarves forge a special ribbon, Gleipnir, which would finally restrain Fenrir. The wolf, sensing that some trick was being performed upon him, would only allow himself to be retrained if one of the gods laced their hand in his mouth. Were he unable to break free, he would bite off the hand of the god. The Aesir balked at this, except Tyr, who placed his hand in the gaping maw of the wolf, who was then bound. Unable to break free of Gleipnir, and having realized the cunning of the Aesir, bit down and severed Tyr's hand from his arm. The wolf was thus bound but at a high price.
Looking at it from a fatalistic standpoint, there was no prophecy that Fenrir would devour Tyr's hand, but there were prophecies of the ill which would befall the world, because of Fenrir. Tyr had the ability to say no, to balk as the other Gods did, knowing full well what would happen once the wolf became wise to the Aesir's deceit. But had he balked, he would have not been Tyr, the embodiment of the warrior, god of single combat and heroic glory. Tyr understood exactly what would happen, knew the outcome, yet willingly bought the entrapment of Fenrir with his own hand. This speaks to one of the most important themes running through the Icelandic sagas, the hard choice.
The hard choice is never pleasant and only marginally better than the alternative, but that sliver of distinction is how honour abides. It is easy to have lofty ideals when it is convenient, but true virtue is tested when things go wrong. If you suddenly find yourself staring at the hard choice, and your resolve fails, what then of morality? What then of honour? Lofty ideals to be abandoned when they become a burden, will forever remain just that; esoteric and highfalutin sound bites. Those willing to make the hard choice, willing to embody the ideals they espouse, can justify their virtue and be held as honorable. This is one of the morals of the story of Tyr that I think has immense value, and it is a lesson that is sorely needed.
Tyr, a member of the Aesir, god of single combat (among other things) along with the other gods, had grown concerned of the growth of the wolf Fenrir, one of the three children of Loki and Angrboða, and so resolved to chain the great beast, for they had foreknowledge of the doom which would occur as a result of him. They tried three times to bound the wolf, and three times he broke the fetters they laid about him. Finally, Odin resolved to have the dwarves forge a special ribbon, Gleipnir, which would finally restrain Fenrir. The wolf, sensing that some trick was being performed upon him, would only allow himself to be retrained if one of the gods laced their hand in his mouth. Were he unable to break free, he would bite off the hand of the god. The Aesir balked at this, except Tyr, who placed his hand in the gaping maw of the wolf, who was then bound. Unable to break free of Gleipnir, and having realized the cunning of the Aesir, bit down and severed Tyr's hand from his arm. The wolf was thus bound but at a high price.
Looking at it from a fatalistic standpoint, there was no prophecy that Fenrir would devour Tyr's hand, but there were prophecies of the ill which would befall the world, because of Fenrir. Tyr had the ability to say no, to balk as the other Gods did, knowing full well what would happen once the wolf became wise to the Aesir's deceit. But had he balked, he would have not been Tyr, the embodiment of the warrior, god of single combat and heroic glory. Tyr understood exactly what would happen, knew the outcome, yet willingly bought the entrapment of Fenrir with his own hand. This speaks to one of the most important themes running through the Icelandic sagas, the hard choice.
The hard choice is never pleasant and only marginally better than the alternative, but that sliver of distinction is how honour abides. It is easy to have lofty ideals when it is convenient, but true virtue is tested when things go wrong. If you suddenly find yourself staring at the hard choice, and your resolve fails, what then of morality? What then of honour? Lofty ideals to be abandoned when they become a burden, will forever remain just that; esoteric and highfalutin sound bites. Those willing to make the hard choice, willing to embody the ideals they espouse, can justify their virtue and be held as honorable. This is one of the morals of the story of Tyr that I think has immense value, and it is a lesson that is sorely needed.
Sunday, April 10, 2011
Polytheistic family fun!
I've been piecing this post little by little for a couple of months now, though it was originally inspired by Galina Krasskova's "Top 10 Pagan/Heathen Movies". I've complied a list of films, books and television series which I find provide excellent stories and useful lessons for kids. While quite modern, and not necessarily Gaelic, still have some value as widely available media to instill virtues and concepts which are pertinent to GRP's (and perhaps polytheism in general).
A quick side note: Krasskova's overviews of both "Princess Mononoke" (Mononoke Hime) and "The Lion King" are excellent and I need not repeat them here. They are, however, some of my favourite animated films and can not recommend them highly enough.
I will however, mention Hayo Miyazaki's "Spirited Away" (Sen to Chihiro no Kamikakushi). The story is simple enough, that children will thoroughly enjoy it, but the issues are complex enough that adults will find much to contemplate. The premise is the synthesis of modernity coming to terms with the past/ environment which is a hallmark of Miyasaki's style. In this instance, the main character, Chihiro, finds herself having to survive in an other world inhabited by the Kami of Shinto lore, with nothing but her will and the support of a few sympathetic Kami who aid her. It has very clear environmentalist overtones, but it is also tries to impart the importance of folk tradition in a world where so many are utterly disconnected from it. There is actually an excellent essay, "Forest Spirits, Giant Insects and World Trees: the Nature Vision of Hiyao Miyazaki” by Lucy Wright, which I came across (thanks to Finnchuill's Mast) which explores the way Miyazaki utilizes elements of Shinto in his films.
A novel series I discovered last year, is the Warrior's series of books. The books follow several clans of anthropomorphic cats, and chronicles the political and social turmoil between the clans. The great thing about these books are the various virtues they impart, in a way that children can understand and, perhaps, emulate: honour, courage, loyalty, living in harmony with local geography and reverence of ones ancestors. The warrior aspect is very apparent (it is after all the title of the series), but the inclusion of ancestor worship, as well as the "mystic experience" was something which is absent in a lot of similar series. The ancestors are referred to as "Starclan", and this is the closest thing to a religion which exists in the Warriors world. While not Celtic or Gaelic by any stretch of the imagination, it none the less is a way for children to develop a sense of the significance of ancestor reverence and virtues like honour and courage, while being accessible and enjoyable.
A cartoon series I would heartily recommend is "Avatar: The Last Air Bender" (and not the insipid live action film version). I will try to keep the fan boy gushing aside, but this is simply one of the best animated series I have watched. Period. There are some aspects to the show I do not like as much as others; the heavily pantheist leanings chief among them, and the emphasis on detachment from the world. There is, however, much which can be taken from the show. The interaction with the "spirit world" and local land spirits is a decent representation of more traditional forms of animism, fairly reminiscent of Shinto. While often side stories to the main plot, "trips to the spirit world" are always of benefit to the progression of the plot and the character development of Aang, the aforementioned Avatar. The way the spirits are portrayed cover a broad spectrum; some are beneficial, some are indifferent (unless crossed) and others are malicious. I like this aspect because it is more reflective of the way GRP's understand interactions with the fair folk or spirits of place, and avoids the sunshine and sprinkles approach which is fairly prevalent.
There are some other aspects of the series I also think admirable. The way that issues of morality are explored are multifaceted and complex enough to avoid the sort of dichotomous kinds of morality so often found in works of fiction. A good example of the later is found in the Redwall series, which I love dearly, but it operates on a very simple moral framework. There are competing perspectives in the Avatar world, and it seems like the writers went out of their way to not, necessarily, have one tack superior to another. Aang, the chief protagonist was raised by Monks and so has a considerably different approach to morality than another character, Katara. The best example I can think of has to do with the idea of forgiveness. There are some spoilers ahead, so if you haven't yet seen the series or are in the process, skip ahead.
[Spoiler warning]
In the episode, Katara learns that Zuko (a former enemy turned ally, who she is currently having some trust issue with) can help her find the man who murdered her mother. As they prepare to set off, Aang tries to talk her out of it, extolling the virtues of forgiveness and how seeking vengeance will only hurt Katara in the long run. She ignores him and long story short, confronts the man who murdered her mother. Seeing how pitiable his life is, she can not bring herself to kill him, and returns. Aang, overjoyed that Katara has forgiven the man, is corrected by Katara and is informed that she will never forgive him, but can forgive Zuko.
[Spoiler warning ends]
The approach to the issue of forgiveness is one I can really appreciate, because the idea of automatic forgiveness is something I strongly disagree with. Restitution needs to be earned by those who have transgressed, and it is unreasonable (bordering on unethical) to expect someone who has been seriously wronged, to forgive those who have wronged them automatically. I understand the general cultural significance of forgiveness, and its basis is a different religious perspective, but that doesn't mean I need to agree with it. And therein lies the beauty of the series approach to morality, characters can be ethical without believing the same things or having the same foundational basis for moral action. Whats more it manages to deal with issues like morality and ethics without being pedantic or clumsy, which is something which can not be said about a lot of other children's shows.
I'll probably post some more suggestions at a later date as I either remember them or actually add new ones to the list.
Gorm.
A quick side note: Krasskova's overviews of both "Princess Mononoke" (Mononoke Hime) and "The Lion King" are excellent and I need not repeat them here. They are, however, some of my favourite animated films and can not recommend them highly enough.
I will however, mention Hayo Miyazaki's "Spirited Away" (Sen to Chihiro no Kamikakushi). The story is simple enough, that children will thoroughly enjoy it, but the issues are complex enough that adults will find much to contemplate. The premise is the synthesis of modernity coming to terms with the past/ environment which is a hallmark of Miyasaki's style. In this instance, the main character, Chihiro, finds herself having to survive in an other world inhabited by the Kami of Shinto lore, with nothing but her will and the support of a few sympathetic Kami who aid her. It has very clear environmentalist overtones, but it is also tries to impart the importance of folk tradition in a world where so many are utterly disconnected from it. There is actually an excellent essay, "Forest Spirits, Giant Insects and World Trees: the Nature Vision of Hiyao Miyazaki” by Lucy Wright, which I came across (thanks to Finnchuill's Mast) which explores the way Miyazaki utilizes elements of Shinto in his films.
A novel series I discovered last year, is the Warrior's series of books. The books follow several clans of anthropomorphic cats, and chronicles the political and social turmoil between the clans. The great thing about these books are the various virtues they impart, in a way that children can understand and, perhaps, emulate: honour, courage, loyalty, living in harmony with local geography and reverence of ones ancestors. The warrior aspect is very apparent (it is after all the title of the series), but the inclusion of ancestor worship, as well as the "mystic experience" was something which is absent in a lot of similar series. The ancestors are referred to as "Starclan", and this is the closest thing to a religion which exists in the Warriors world. While not Celtic or Gaelic by any stretch of the imagination, it none the less is a way for children to develop a sense of the significance of ancestor reverence and virtues like honour and courage, while being accessible and enjoyable.
A cartoon series I would heartily recommend is "Avatar: The Last Air Bender" (and not the insipid live action film version). I will try to keep the fan boy gushing aside, but this is simply one of the best animated series I have watched. Period. There are some aspects to the show I do not like as much as others; the heavily pantheist leanings chief among them, and the emphasis on detachment from the world. There is, however, much which can be taken from the show. The interaction with the "spirit world" and local land spirits is a decent representation of more traditional forms of animism, fairly reminiscent of Shinto. While often side stories to the main plot, "trips to the spirit world" are always of benefit to the progression of the plot and the character development of Aang, the aforementioned Avatar. The way the spirits are portrayed cover a broad spectrum; some are beneficial, some are indifferent (unless crossed) and others are malicious. I like this aspect because it is more reflective of the way GRP's understand interactions with the fair folk or spirits of place, and avoids the sunshine and sprinkles approach which is fairly prevalent.
There are some other aspects of the series I also think admirable. The way that issues of morality are explored are multifaceted and complex enough to avoid the sort of dichotomous kinds of morality so often found in works of fiction. A good example of the later is found in the Redwall series, which I love dearly, but it operates on a very simple moral framework. There are competing perspectives in the Avatar world, and it seems like the writers went out of their way to not, necessarily, have one tack superior to another. Aang, the chief protagonist was raised by Monks and so has a considerably different approach to morality than another character, Katara. The best example I can think of has to do with the idea of forgiveness. There are some spoilers ahead, so if you haven't yet seen the series or are in the process, skip ahead.
[Spoiler warning]
In the episode, Katara learns that Zuko (a former enemy turned ally, who she is currently having some trust issue with) can help her find the man who murdered her mother. As they prepare to set off, Aang tries to talk her out of it, extolling the virtues of forgiveness and how seeking vengeance will only hurt Katara in the long run. She ignores him and long story short, confronts the man who murdered her mother. Seeing how pitiable his life is, she can not bring herself to kill him, and returns. Aang, overjoyed that Katara has forgiven the man, is corrected by Katara and is informed that she will never forgive him, but can forgive Zuko.
[Spoiler warning ends]
The approach to the issue of forgiveness is one I can really appreciate, because the idea of automatic forgiveness is something I strongly disagree with. Restitution needs to be earned by those who have transgressed, and it is unreasonable (bordering on unethical) to expect someone who has been seriously wronged, to forgive those who have wronged them automatically. I understand the general cultural significance of forgiveness, and its basis is a different religious perspective, but that doesn't mean I need to agree with it. And therein lies the beauty of the series approach to morality, characters can be ethical without believing the same things or having the same foundational basis for moral action. Whats more it manages to deal with issues like morality and ethics without being pedantic or clumsy, which is something which can not be said about a lot of other children's shows.
I'll probably post some more suggestions at a later date as I either remember them or actually add new ones to the list.
Gorm.
Saturday, April 9, 2011
Reconstructionism, again...
This has been going on for a little while now, but once again it is sort of at the fore of some discussions on the methodology behind Reconstructionism; specifically how it relates to UPG. For myself it was sparked by a discussion on one of the forums I frequent, and linked to a blog by another Reconstructionist. I'll not hash out the whole thing here, but the crux was that some of the recons who frequented this forum disagreed with the use of Reconstructionist as it was defined by the blog. There was an interesting discussion which resulted, and in the end, I guess we agreed to disagree.
Recently, however, this issue, the role of UPG in Recon, has come up again. My only issue at this point is the way that the discussion is being couched, and the canard which is being bandied about, namely "lore is law". I can only speak from my own experiences with the Recons I know, but I've yet to meet any that would agree that the lore is all one goes by, and UPG or mystic experiences have no place in Reconstructionism. The issue that I have then, is that there is a vast difference between scholarly diligence and placing what is known (or probable based on inference) ahead of personal gnosis, than simply quoting the lore as some infallible text, as is wont in monotheistic circles. The problem is that the later is precisely how those who favour scholarship over UPG are being represented, as if they were some sort of mythic literalist's. I'd like to believe that people are willing to give the benefit of the doubt, and that any Reconstructionist worth their salt would be aware of the limitations of the mythic texts, doubly so for those which are known to have been recorded/written by Christian scribes. But this isn't happening, no apparently there is a vociferous contingent of Recons who think that, for example, the LGE is holy writ and wholly pre-Christian (despite it starting with a short summary of the events of Genesis) and that any who diverge from the myths as laid down are heretical and need be cast out! That isn't even the real issue here, what is the issue is the, I believe deliberate, attempt to equate a reliance on scholarship with a literalistic approach to the lore. The lore is but one, ONE, part of a much larger whole comprising a body of knowledge pertaining to a cultural group, upon which one builds the foundation for reconstruction. My experience is limited, and certainly I've not met anyone who would use the Recon label, but I've never come across any of these literalists, because frankly we know better.
I've come to expect this sort of argument, that Recons are all stodgy academics who study their religion, rather than live it, from some Pagan circles, but from within the Recon community itself? I'll repeat it here for the umpteenth time, UPG matters. UPG is crucial. UPG is an intrinsic component of Reconstructionism. UPG has a role, as does study. I believe that UPG is informed by, and understood through the study of whatever culture it is one is reconstructing from. UPG can be used to fill in gaps where we have no information, or through inference and probability where we do have some idea. If you've gotten the notion that Ogma receives offerings of oatmeal cookies favourably, I've got no issue with that. Despite there not being any references to oatmeal cookies in the lore (or other texts) it seems like the offering of baked goods was probable, so go for it. If you've had a powerful dream where an amorphous goddess tells you all deities are one, well that's not reflected at all in any of the info we've got, and if you choose to base your perspective from that point, you've stopped reconstructing. I realize these are two fairly cut and dried examples, but I'm firmly in the camp that mystic experiences need be understood through whatever cultural framework one is working from, and that this is the basis of Reconstructionism as a methodology. If it comes down to a personal experience vs scholarship, I favour scholarship. Would a conflict between UPG and scholarship necessarily manifest in such a dichotomous manner, not likely. Was there any indication of the dismissal of the importance of mystic experiences in that? Hmm.... nope.
It can be pointed out that scholarship itself has room for improvement: it is by no means monolithic, nor static and there are many perspectives and approaches to the material to consider. There is definitely a great deal of "wiggle room" when it comes to trying to understand an ancient culture, its mythic framework, and then adapting it to be something which is still relevant in a modern context. This is especially true when the sources we have are fragmentary and glossed over with a differing religious perspective, and approaching them with a critical eye is simply a necessity, because in those cases we just haven't got fully preserved pre-Christian myths. This is one of the reasons I balk at the idea that anyone who would call themselves a Recon would not be cognizant of the limitations of the mythic texts (at least in the CR camp), and why the suggestion of mythic literalism as an active force in Reconstructionism seems very unlikely. Though I could see how in the cases where more complete myths exist it being a possibility, I also think that the contemporary texts which explore the relationships between the myths and the deities they represent would be crucial reading for Recons.
Thoughts?
Gorm.
Recently, however, this issue, the role of UPG in Recon, has come up again. My only issue at this point is the way that the discussion is being couched, and the canard which is being bandied about, namely "lore is law". I can only speak from my own experiences with the Recons I know, but I've yet to meet any that would agree that the lore is all one goes by, and UPG or mystic experiences have no place in Reconstructionism. The issue that I have then, is that there is a vast difference between scholarly diligence and placing what is known (or probable based on inference) ahead of personal gnosis, than simply quoting the lore as some infallible text, as is wont in monotheistic circles. The problem is that the later is precisely how those who favour scholarship over UPG are being represented, as if they were some sort of mythic literalist's. I'd like to believe that people are willing to give the benefit of the doubt, and that any Reconstructionist worth their salt would be aware of the limitations of the mythic texts, doubly so for those which are known to have been recorded/written by Christian scribes. But this isn't happening, no apparently there is a vociferous contingent of Recons who think that, for example, the LGE is holy writ and wholly pre-Christian (despite it starting with a short summary of the events of Genesis) and that any who diverge from the myths as laid down are heretical and need be cast out! That isn't even the real issue here, what is the issue is the, I believe deliberate, attempt to equate a reliance on scholarship with a literalistic approach to the lore. The lore is but one, ONE, part of a much larger whole comprising a body of knowledge pertaining to a cultural group, upon which one builds the foundation for reconstruction. My experience is limited, and certainly I've not met anyone who would use the Recon label, but I've never come across any of these literalists, because frankly we know better.
I've come to expect this sort of argument, that Recons are all stodgy academics who study their religion, rather than live it, from some Pagan circles, but from within the Recon community itself? I'll repeat it here for the umpteenth time, UPG matters. UPG is crucial. UPG is an intrinsic component of Reconstructionism. UPG has a role, as does study. I believe that UPG is informed by, and understood through the study of whatever culture it is one is reconstructing from. UPG can be used to fill in gaps where we have no information, or through inference and probability where we do have some idea. If you've gotten the notion that Ogma receives offerings of oatmeal cookies favourably, I've got no issue with that. Despite there not being any references to oatmeal cookies in the lore (or other texts) it seems like the offering of baked goods was probable, so go for it. If you've had a powerful dream where an amorphous goddess tells you all deities are one, well that's not reflected at all in any of the info we've got, and if you choose to base your perspective from that point, you've stopped reconstructing. I realize these are two fairly cut and dried examples, but I'm firmly in the camp that mystic experiences need be understood through whatever cultural framework one is working from, and that this is the basis of Reconstructionism as a methodology. If it comes down to a personal experience vs scholarship, I favour scholarship. Would a conflict between UPG and scholarship necessarily manifest in such a dichotomous manner, not likely. Was there any indication of the dismissal of the importance of mystic experiences in that? Hmm.... nope.
It can be pointed out that scholarship itself has room for improvement: it is by no means monolithic, nor static and there are many perspectives and approaches to the material to consider. There is definitely a great deal of "wiggle room" when it comes to trying to understand an ancient culture, its mythic framework, and then adapting it to be something which is still relevant in a modern context. This is especially true when the sources we have are fragmentary and glossed over with a differing religious perspective, and approaching them with a critical eye is simply a necessity, because in those cases we just haven't got fully preserved pre-Christian myths. This is one of the reasons I balk at the idea that anyone who would call themselves a Recon would not be cognizant of the limitations of the mythic texts (at least in the CR camp), and why the suggestion of mythic literalism as an active force in Reconstructionism seems very unlikely. Though I could see how in the cases where more complete myths exist it being a possibility, I also think that the contemporary texts which explore the relationships between the myths and the deities they represent would be crucial reading for Recons.
Thoughts?
Gorm.
Saturday, March 26, 2011
A "Warriors path" and not being on one...
Let me begin by saying that I have nothing but respect, even admiration for those who have dedicated themselves to the betterment of self, and the protection of others, through the use of combat and martial means. For those who serve their communities by being the thin line between those communities and those who would seek their ruin, for those who serve their country by traveling to distant lands thousands of miles from home, I salute you with as much gusto as I can muster. I realize these sort of intro's will often transition into a critique or diatribe about some aspect of the police or military, but that isn't where I am going with this.
I am a fighter, I always have been. I know how to fight, how to defend myself and those I care about, and have done my best to help those who can't; but I am not, nor have I ever considered myself, a warrior. I suppose it comes down to how I understand the concept, and my feelings are divided. On the one hand, I understand the historicity of the word, the issue of caste/class and profession and the philosophy behind many different cultural understandings of the term. On the other, from my own religious perspective, there are deities who are overtly associated with war and combat. Further we have (to some greater or lesser degree) a conception of "paths" or perhaps even "modes". The two most common "paths", at least from my own experience in CR, tends towards either the Warrior (laoch/ gaiscíoch) or the Poet (filid). I should mention at this point that another, fairly common "path" is also out there, though with less fanfare or flourish, that of the Homesteader/Hearth focused (baile/ tinteán) which is where I find myself. Of course, many choose not to carve up their practices or delineate so cleanly. However, many will have specific patrons to whom they are pledged or clientele of, and often (but not always) their patronage is predicated upon their profession. It can often be a chicken/egg dilemma when it comes to deciding what came first. Was this particular deity always pulling you towards them, or were you pulled because of some predisposed affinity? I suppose these are the sorts of mysteries we must contend with.
I have mentioned it before, but I have become certain that I have a calling, and that it is inextricably linked with my profession. As such, I have a patron god to whom I am pledged, who I believe has had some influence over my path, as it were. There is some evidence to support the notion that among the "Celts" ones patron deities were, when not household or familial, based upon profession or craft. Most of the Irish texts dealing with the Tuatha de Danann, suggest that most of them were associated with some skill, craft, art or profession; and it seems likely that if they are in some regards reflective of pre-Christian beliefs, the probability of different professions making sacrifices to specific deities is reasonably high. If profession is too specific, perhaps function is a better way of approaching these relationship; especially when one seeks (to some extent) map professions which simply did not exist to deities which may have associations with specific aspects of life.
I've wandered a bit, but it provides some necessary perspective on my part. I have no qualms, or regrets about my chosen career, and frankly I can not remember when I was ever so excited to get out of the classroom and into the workplace. There remains a lingering sense of something, which I am not able to put my finger on. I read the tales, and anyone familiar with them will be aware of how the great majority of the narratives focus on warriors and their deeds, and feel a connection with those individuals and my own aspirations and values. I understand that many of the "Celtic" values which are discussed, have their basis in what was a warrior-elite culture (or tradition of literature), and yet not being a warrior myself, can still see their value and worth as values and virtues to embody. I read fiction, watch films or listen to songs which will stir emotions in me, get my blood up and have me aching for a chance to scrap. This is one of the reasons I consider myself a fighter, as opposed to a warrior. Not that a warrior would have a different visceral response, but that how one responds to something is not (necessarily) what makes one a warrior.
I mentioned profession and its relation to function, and I think that if one calls themselves a warrior, they ought to be involved in some aspect of warring (or at the very least, fulfilling a function in which they employ martial means). The two most obvious being police and military (or inactive/ex members thereof), but there are others; security guards, full time martial artists/instructors, bouncers, etc., are all in some way making a living via their proclivity to function in a martial manner. I will admit that my definition is a bit different than others I have come across, a bit grittier than some of the more romantic ideas. I do balk a little at some of the more modern approaches where someone who practices martial arts in their spare time, and has read the hagakure or Book of Five Rings, considers themselves a warrior. I think one needs be engaged in combat or martial employment to be considered a warrior. As I am not in such a profession, I am not nor do I consider myself a warrior. I have an idea of what I would consider as being a warrior, and thus on a warriors path, but far be it from me to tell someone what they can and can't be. This is simply how I understand it.
I would love some feedback, especially from anyone who considers themselves a warrior or on a warrior path.
Gorm.
I am a fighter, I always have been. I know how to fight, how to defend myself and those I care about, and have done my best to help those who can't; but I am not, nor have I ever considered myself, a warrior. I suppose it comes down to how I understand the concept, and my feelings are divided. On the one hand, I understand the historicity of the word, the issue of caste/class and profession and the philosophy behind many different cultural understandings of the term. On the other, from my own religious perspective, there are deities who are overtly associated with war and combat. Further we have (to some greater or lesser degree) a conception of "paths" or perhaps even "modes". The two most common "paths", at least from my own experience in CR, tends towards either the Warrior (laoch/ gaiscíoch) or the Poet (filid). I should mention at this point that another, fairly common "path" is also out there, though with less fanfare or flourish, that of the Homesteader/Hearth focused (baile/ tinteán) which is where I find myself. Of course, many choose not to carve up their practices or delineate so cleanly. However, many will have specific patrons to whom they are pledged or clientele of, and often (but not always) their patronage is predicated upon their profession. It can often be a chicken/egg dilemma when it comes to deciding what came first. Was this particular deity always pulling you towards them, or were you pulled because of some predisposed affinity? I suppose these are the sorts of mysteries we must contend with.
I have mentioned it before, but I have become certain that I have a calling, and that it is inextricably linked with my profession. As such, I have a patron god to whom I am pledged, who I believe has had some influence over my path, as it were. There is some evidence to support the notion that among the "Celts" ones patron deities were, when not household or familial, based upon profession or craft. Most of the Irish texts dealing with the Tuatha de Danann, suggest that most of them were associated with some skill, craft, art or profession; and it seems likely that if they are in some regards reflective of pre-Christian beliefs, the probability of different professions making sacrifices to specific deities is reasonably high. If profession is too specific, perhaps function is a better way of approaching these relationship; especially when one seeks (to some extent) map professions which simply did not exist to deities which may have associations with specific aspects of life.
I've wandered a bit, but it provides some necessary perspective on my part. I have no qualms, or regrets about my chosen career, and frankly I can not remember when I was ever so excited to get out of the classroom and into the workplace. There remains a lingering sense of something, which I am not able to put my finger on. I read the tales, and anyone familiar with them will be aware of how the great majority of the narratives focus on warriors and their deeds, and feel a connection with those individuals and my own aspirations and values. I understand that many of the "Celtic" values which are discussed, have their basis in what was a warrior-elite culture (or tradition of literature), and yet not being a warrior myself, can still see their value and worth as values and virtues to embody. I read fiction, watch films or listen to songs which will stir emotions in me, get my blood up and have me aching for a chance to scrap. This is one of the reasons I consider myself a fighter, as opposed to a warrior. Not that a warrior would have a different visceral response, but that how one responds to something is not (necessarily) what makes one a warrior.
I mentioned profession and its relation to function, and I think that if one calls themselves a warrior, they ought to be involved in some aspect of warring (or at the very least, fulfilling a function in which they employ martial means). The two most obvious being police and military (or inactive/ex members thereof), but there are others; security guards, full time martial artists/instructors, bouncers, etc., are all in some way making a living via their proclivity to function in a martial manner. I will admit that my definition is a bit different than others I have come across, a bit grittier than some of the more romantic ideas. I do balk a little at some of the more modern approaches where someone who practices martial arts in their spare time, and has read the hagakure or Book of Five Rings, considers themselves a warrior. I think one needs be engaged in combat or martial employment to be considered a warrior. As I am not in such a profession, I am not nor do I consider myself a warrior. I have an idea of what I would consider as being a warrior, and thus on a warriors path, but far be it from me to tell someone what they can and can't be. This is simply how I understand it.
I would love some feedback, especially from anyone who considers themselves a warrior or on a warrior path.
Gorm.
Saturday, March 12, 2011
Polytheism and Catastrophe
There is a popular bit of Japanese history, pertaining to the 13th century CE, involving the attempt of the Mongol army to invade the country. On both occasions the fleets were repelled and then subsequently destroyed by Typhoons. The term which was developed for this phenomenon would later be used by the Japanese during the Second World War, Kamikaze (wind of the gods). Ignoring the more recent appropriation of the term, the basis of the concept is essentially that the Kami (in this case, most often identified as Fūjin and Raijin) protected the Japanese islands (and subsequently the Japanese themselves) from invasion; in other words divine intervention. In this particular instance, divine intervention through a type of storm most commonly associated with "natural disasters". I have read, though for the moment have forgotten the source, that this resulted in a resurgence in the (then) waning belief in the tenants of Shinto, few could doubt the existence or influence of the Kami after such an obvious display of their power, and the benefit of cultivating the proper relationship with them.
This got me to thinking, well this and what occurred in Japan this week, about a polytheistic view of natural disasters, and what role (if any) deities play in them. I could go on and on about the sort of Christian triumphalist commentary I have seen regarding this (and past) disasters, and how the disaster correlated with some slight against the god of the Christians, but this has always been one of the issues under the wider scope of theodicy, so I'll leave the monotheists to worry about it. No, my thoughts fall on the relationship between deities who have overt or tacit associations with natural phenomena or features, and so called disasters.
In Irish sources, we can observe some examples, albeit it on a much smaller scale. In one tale, we learn that the arrival of the Tuatha De Dannan caused a three day solar eclipse. In another An Dagda is able to keep the sun in the sky for a full year, making it appear that only a single day has elapsed. During the mustering of the forces of the Tuatha De Dannan, we are told that the Cup Bearers will bring a great thirst upon the host of the Formoii, the Druids will rain down fire, and two "witches" will cause the trees, stones and sods to fight on the side of the TDD. In later tales, we learn that the mortal men of Ireland must cultivate a proper relationship with the gods in order to ensure good crops and herds. In other tales, we see that a Rí weds a tutelary goddess of sovereignty in order to foster plenty in his kingdom, and that want and even famine is a reflection of the state of the king and their fitness to rule. In the mythic, and some historic texts, we see then that there is a strong correlation between the gods and the natural environment. When we get to relationships between humans and deities, that link seems to be even stronger.
So then, what of natural disasters? Do we (as polytheists) simply accept that tectonic and seismic events resulted in a shift, leading to a massive earth quake and subsequent tsunami, or is there more to it? Is this an issue best explored through a combination of scientific knowledge and mythic thinking? Could a natural disaster ever be the result of pissing off a deity? Alternatively, could some environmental event which is beneficial be divine in origin? Is either of these perspectives too literal minded? I have a number of opinions myself, but I am curious what others think. If animistic and polytheistic deities are connected to (or have influence over) natural features and phenomena (which they often do), what role to they play in events which negatively or positively impact on the welfare of human societies?
This got me to thinking, well this and what occurred in Japan this week, about a polytheistic view of natural disasters, and what role (if any) deities play in them. I could go on and on about the sort of Christian triumphalist commentary I have seen regarding this (and past) disasters, and how the disaster correlated with some slight against the god of the Christians, but this has always been one of the issues under the wider scope of theodicy, so I'll leave the monotheists to worry about it. No, my thoughts fall on the relationship between deities who have overt or tacit associations with natural phenomena or features, and so called disasters.
In Irish sources, we can observe some examples, albeit it on a much smaller scale. In one tale, we learn that the arrival of the Tuatha De Dannan caused a three day solar eclipse. In another An Dagda is able to keep the sun in the sky for a full year, making it appear that only a single day has elapsed. During the mustering of the forces of the Tuatha De Dannan, we are told that the Cup Bearers will bring a great thirst upon the host of the Formoii, the Druids will rain down fire, and two "witches" will cause the trees, stones and sods to fight on the side of the TDD. In later tales, we learn that the mortal men of Ireland must cultivate a proper relationship with the gods in order to ensure good crops and herds. In other tales, we see that a Rí weds a tutelary goddess of sovereignty in order to foster plenty in his kingdom, and that want and even famine is a reflection of the state of the king and their fitness to rule. In the mythic, and some historic texts, we see then that there is a strong correlation between the gods and the natural environment. When we get to relationships between humans and deities, that link seems to be even stronger.
So then, what of natural disasters? Do we (as polytheists) simply accept that tectonic and seismic events resulted in a shift, leading to a massive earth quake and subsequent tsunami, or is there more to it? Is this an issue best explored through a combination of scientific knowledge and mythic thinking? Could a natural disaster ever be the result of pissing off a deity? Alternatively, could some environmental event which is beneficial be divine in origin? Is either of these perspectives too literal minded? I have a number of opinions myself, but I am curious what others think. If animistic and polytheistic deities are connected to (or have influence over) natural features and phenomena (which they often do), what role to they play in events which negatively or positively impact on the welfare of human societies?
Friday, February 4, 2011
Excerpt from Polybius
*Warning Trigger*
I recently acquired my very own copy of "The Celtic Heroic Age" and have been pouring over the continental material as they are the sources I am least familiar with. There are a number of interesting sources, but for some reason I found this particular excerpt stood out more than many of the others. It could be the aspect of justice entailed, it could be the presentation of the juxtaposed gender role of a woman protecting her own "virtue", or it could be what I would consider an almost "Celtic" humour. Such sardonic humour is found in many of the medieval Irish texts, and it is interesting that it pops up in a Greek "historic" source from the 2nd century BCE as well. The excerpt if from Histories: 21.38.1-6:
By chance, one of the prisoners captured when the Romans defeated the Asian Galatae at Olympus was Chiomara, wife of Ortiagon. The centurion in charge of her took advantage of his soldierly opportunity and raped her. He was indeed a slave to both lust and money, but eventually his love of money won out. With a large amount of gold being agreed on, he led her away to be ransomed. There was a river between the two camps, and the Galatae crossed it, paid the ransom, and received the woman. When this was accomplished, she ordered one of them to with a nod to kill the Roman as he was making a polite and affectionate farewell. The man obeyed and cut off the centurion's head. She picked it up and rode off with it wrapped in the folds of her dress. When she reached her husband, she threw it at his feet. He was astonished and said, 'Wife, faithfulness is a good thing.' 'Yes,' she said, 'but it is better that only one man alive would have lain with me.'
I recently acquired my very own copy of "The Celtic Heroic Age" and have been pouring over the continental material as they are the sources I am least familiar with. There are a number of interesting sources, but for some reason I found this particular excerpt stood out more than many of the others. It could be the aspect of justice entailed, it could be the presentation of the juxtaposed gender role of a woman protecting her own "virtue", or it could be what I would consider an almost "Celtic" humour. Such sardonic humour is found in many of the medieval Irish texts, and it is interesting that it pops up in a Greek "historic" source from the 2nd century BCE as well. The excerpt if from Histories: 21.38.1-6:
By chance, one of the prisoners captured when the Romans defeated the Asian Galatae at Olympus was Chiomara, wife of Ortiagon. The centurion in charge of her took advantage of his soldierly opportunity and raped her. He was indeed a slave to both lust and money, but eventually his love of money won out. With a large amount of gold being agreed on, he led her away to be ransomed. There was a river between the two camps, and the Galatae crossed it, paid the ransom, and received the woman. When this was accomplished, she ordered one of them to with a nod to kill the Roman as he was making a polite and affectionate farewell. The man obeyed and cut off the centurion's head. She picked it up and rode off with it wrapped in the folds of her dress. When she reached her husband, she threw it at his feet. He was astonished and said, 'Wife, faithfulness is a good thing.' 'Yes,' she said, 'but it is better that only one man alive would have lain with me.'
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