Down by the river

As today was the only day off I am going to get in a two week span, and seeing as the weather has decided to become May again, as opposed to the two day hit of January (complete with snow) we had in my area earlier in the week, it seemed like as good a time as any to head over to the Humber river and spend a little time there. I am fortunate enough to live in a city that while heavily urbanized, maintains a significant amount of green space, thanks in large part to the three large rivers which run down to the lake; the Rouge, The Don and the Humber.

I've always had a fascination, an inexplicable attraction even, to streams, creeks, rivers, pond, lakes and other bodies of water. Be it exploring the banks, fishing, swimming, canoeing, boating or a host of other activities, water and its surrounding geography holds a special, if nostalgic, place in my heart. Not surprisingly then I find that, beyond the altar found upon the hearth of my dwelling, rivers and their environs are the locus of my ritualistic activity. I have developed a mannerism that when ever crossing over a bridge, provided there is a river/stream beneath it, I give a short prayer. I have also written about my relationship with The Humber River before, and find that it is the first locale that springs to mind when I make offerings or prayers to the spirits of place.

The symbolic and ritualistic associations of water, again usually embodied by rivers, lakes and streams, found in Gaelic tradition is well attested to. This sacrality is based, in large part, by the liminal nature of the boundary between earth and sea, the shore (or bank). We find in the mythic literature that many of the interactions between the denizens of the sidhe and mortal folk occur on or near shorelines, beaches and river banks. Forming natural borders and in many cases barriers, rivers and fords also feature prominently in the narrative of the Tain bo Cuilagne, as the setting for the single combats upon which the story focuses. Archeological evidence also showcase waterways and their sacral nature as many ritual deposits (of coins, swords, jewelry, etc.) were found in these areas (both on the continent and some locations in Ireland).

Symbolically and metaphorically, rivers are most often associated with female deities, spirits or personages. Many of the dindshenchas which speak about the naming of rivers or lakes revolve around the activities of mythic women, such as Boann and Sionann, after whom the rivers Boyne and Shannon are held to be named. Rivers and streams have also traditionally been one of the locations of female labour, and many are familiar with the folklore surrounding the "washer woman at the ford" or bean nighe.

So I went to my usual ritual spot, just under a footbridge which cross over the river, and said a prayer followed by an offering of nine hazel nuts. Maybe I even got a little shade of imbas from the experience. While certainly not poetry by any means, it did inspire me to write this post.

-Gorm

I went for a walk today or everyday Animism

[I had originally begun this post on February 23, but did not get around to finishing it until now]

On my way home from work late yesterday afternoon, I decided that instead of waiting to cram myself onto an over loaded bus, that I would walk the six or so blocks home. While I did manage to get to "my stop" before the bus I would have been on, I was also reminded of how much I love walking as an activity. I hadn't actually gone for a 'good walk" in almost three years; which is about as long as I have had my car. I mean I used to walk a lot, and for no other reason than I enjoyed doing it and becoming familiar with my surroundings. Even when I was at university, on the day I had a five hour spare, I would simply pick a direction and start walking. There are just so many fascinating details that you miss when you're speeding along, and haven't got the ability or the time to notice them. So, since today was my first day off in a little over a week, I decided that I should go for one of those "good walks".

There are two major rivers in my city, and one which is very near my house, the Humber. Now I do devotional offerings to the Humber, and maybe one day I'll write about all the nifty little concurrences which lead me to do this, but suffice to say "she" is important to me. So, while I have visited the head waters, and the bay into which the Humber empties, and explored a few choice locations, I've never actually made much use of the system of parks which runs along side her. With a quick google earth + conservatory inquiry, I had my itinerary, and my route. The route was somewhere around 20 km, and followed a meandering system of trails, bridges, street connections and some "rougher" terrain. I managed to walk it in five hours, not bad considering that I made a good number of stops to look around and appreciate the scenery, and that I haven't walked this sort of distance in at least three years.

Where I entered, at Finch Ave. and Islington Ave., I decided to look for a stone from the river, which I would carry with me to deposit at the mouth, and found one in short order. Then something odd happened, I was just about to cross the bridge when I heard a splash, and saw a woman come rather quickly towards me, turn up the path and onto the street; I did notice that she had an empty black canvas bag. When I began crossing the bridge, I looked down and floating down the river where four daikon radishes and a turnip. I'm not sure if this was simply a case of someone dumping refuse (which makes little sense, since organic waste pickup is tomorrow) or something else, it was just odd to have (what appeared to be) perfectly good root vegetables thrown into a river.

Just across the bridge, there was a single large stone, which I joking dubbed Grainne's recliner; I did lay on it though, and it was surprisingly comfortable. Well if infertility is ever an issue, I know where to go. I made my way along the path and in short order came upon another foot bridge, and decided to feed some ducks who were swimming about just below it. Continuing on I encountered a number of fellow "travellers along the way" and did my best to greet all of them as we crossed paths. At this point, most were elderly and a few were walking their dogs. I continued on, came across a woodpecker, and then the sun decided to peek out from behind the clouds for a little while, so naturally I sang the Hymn to the Sun (CG 316):

Hail to thee, thou son of the season, as thou traverst the skies aloft
Thy steps are strong on the wing of the heavens, Thou art the glorious mother of the stars
Thou liest down in the destructive ocean, without impairment and without fear
Thou risest up on the peaceful wave crest, like a queenly maiden in bloom.

I continued on, taking in the warmness the sun now provided; enjoying the unseasonably warm February day and musing on the approaching spring. Already the signs were everywhere; the chlorophyll was returning to the grass, trees were already beginning to bud neihert surprising considering how mild the winter had been, and how noticibly absent snow was. I travelled south, crossing through several different parks and passing by an area where I maintained a sort of make shift shrine, dedicated to the Humber herself. Unfortunately, visiting it would have taken me off my current path, and as I had been there the previous week, felt no need to stop by. I was, after all spending the day with the river. Actually, now that I reflect on it the trail can roughly be split into three different segments, the first and third tended to follow the course of the Humber more closely, the middle ended up meandering away from it for significant chunks.

As I travelled further I noticed a few interesting things. At one point, as the trail skirted around an impressive golf club, I noticed some interesting grafitti which had been scrawled onto the ground near a cement drainage way, "This, the great divide". Perhaps it seemed more poignant at the time, for now it seems nonsensical. Further on I came across a Great Blue Heron, simply standing as they tend to, on one leg, letting everything around them take in how terribly majestic they look; though to be honest the nearby ducks didn't seem to be having any of it.

I made my way, noted that the trail was populated in spurts, with folks more frequently clustered around the parks proper, or between catwalks leading from various neighbourhoods. I am happy to note that everyone returned my greetings, and the creeping smiles were difficult to miss; amazing how much of an effect even the simplest of courtisies can have on someones disposition. Along the trail, especially the second and third sections, the city of Toronto has these small informational stands set up. They are usually shaped in small circles, refered to as "story circles" made of hewn stone and paved with white limestone; they contain infographics and texts explaining the significance of this particular area, or mention the tribe of first nations which had settlements where we now stood. At one such location, I met an elderly couple who were also enjoying the weather, but who lamented that the present stands were dirty, covered in a thin layer of dirt or mud, which obscured the information. Having a bottle of water handy, I did my best to clean them off, while the older gentleman did his part and wiped them dry with leaves. They seemed to be very glad that another person would care as much as they did, and I always love to see civic duty in action. We bid each other a good day, and I continued on my way.

I have to say that the most bizzare, and the most surreal moments of my journey happend very close to one another. The bizzare was that as I walked through one of the more intricate paths, which had been built up with logs and board walks, as opposed to the typical asphalt; I noticed a single log with the website infowars.com written in thick, black permanent marker. It wasn't as if this was some sign post or permanent fixture, it was just a random log lying at the side of the trail, and someone had taken the time to advertise for the ridiculous conspiracy-theorist website, in the middle of an urban wilderness. The more surreal experience occured shortly after, when I can across a single mound, topped with a tree, which was covered by thick, emerald ivy. The contrast with the surrounding areas was stark, to say the least, as everything else was a muted brown. That a sunbeam managed to pierce through the cloud cover, and illuminate the mound just so, was simply too much to take seriouisly; it was the kind of beautiful image which would be overlain with some sappy quote or mind numbingly insipid poem.

There were other interesting things to make note of, which few of the other people who passed them by seemed to give much heed. There were all manner of memorial benches, stones and especially trees scattered across the numerous parks which made up a good chunk of the trail. Benches dedicated to members of local community groups who had helped in revitalization projects; a monument to a man who had "died while vainly attempting to save two boys from drowning"; a tree which was decorated with christmas ornaments, with a plaque which explained the planting was in memorium of a now deceased boy scout, still maintained by some degree, by his family or troop. There were, in fact, many small decorations or personal touches which accompanied the small plaques, mounted on cross cut cement cylinders, explaining who the tree was dedicated to. Living memorials, physical embodiments of grief and loss; growing in proxy of young lives cut short, or long lives now spent.

I eventually reached my goal, the Humber bay, after walking aong the trail as it crossed through two unique, "remnant" ecological areas. To the left of me was the Humber Marshes and to the right a Black Oak Savanna. The bay, as can be expected of most green areas of the lake shore, was fairly busy. I made my way to the shore of lake Ontario, and sat on the large rocks which had been deposited to prevent the erposion of the shore, and relaxed for a bit in the late afternoon sun. One of the very nifty things about this small parkette are the collection of standing stones which sit on top of a small hill, known as the "Sheldon Lookout" or the "Stones of Sheldon". One of these stones contain two plaques which will align with the summer and winter solstices at dawn on their respective days. I wonder if any of the local Pagans make use of them, and it may bare looking into.

I crossed the large Humber bay bridge, stopping in the middle to say a final prayer and dropping the stone I had been carrying with me all day, into the river. Both of our journiey's complete, I crossed the bridge and began to make my way back home. My souvenirs included a small blister on my right foot, and terrible back pain for the next day, but the experience was more than worth it. Being out in the tame nature we in this great metropolis have maintained, exploring the different environments through which the Humber flows, and really coming to appreciate just how significant this one river is to the city. I may be one of the only people around who would admit to leaving offerings to the River, but if my journey taught me anything, I am far from the only person in this city who still worships her.

-Gorm.

 PS. I linked above to a website which seems to be a labour of love, the Toronto Historical Plaques site. This is maintained by Alan L. Brown and for anyone in the GTA or who may be interested in the multitude of plaques placed around the city, there really is no better resource.

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?

Religion and Reason

There exists a climate these days, nothing new mind you, in which people will often call into question the religious beliefs of another.I have no problem with critically exploring religious beliefs, but more often than not the kind of attitude I am speaking about is based on little more than a knee jerk reaction. Often this reaction is built upon a very shallow understanding of some aspect of that religion. If this sounds familiar, wait until I've finished the rest of my intro; because this is not an attitude which is found only among the "usual suspects." No in this case those who often criticize the fundamentalist's intolerance, are found in their company when confronted with a religion that is too "out there". Religious tolerance it seems is a fickle thing, even among those who claim to defend it.

My favourite "whipping boy" in this case is Scientology. You will notice that I did not use a $ sign to replace the S, but it happens more often than not. I am, of course, not a Scientologist; nor do I ascribe to any of their beliefs even in the slightest. I am also critical of the structure of their religious organization, the Church of Scientology. Though unknown to most people, there are many Scientologists who are not members of the Church; so called "Free Zone" Scientologists. I can accept, and in fact share, most of the criticisms of the CoS, however I may differ from most in not finding anything particularly odd about their beliefs.

I mean really think about it, how odd are their beliefs compared to any number of world religions? Judaism; why they pray to an invisible sky man, who revealed his universal wisdom by turning into a burning bush, seen by one guy. Christianity; well they worship the same sky man, but also his zombie son; many of them do this through ritualistic cannibalism. Islam; same sky man, but this time revealed to a guy in a cave who ended up having a lot of wives. Hinduism; a million gods who are all the same god, but then you're not even you, but we. Buddhism: try to emulate a Indian prince who decided poverty was awesome, and owning things is the root of all evil; they seek enlightenment by thinking about weird things.

Part of my point is that anything can be made to sound ridiculous or terrible if you word it the right way, and focus on some detail, taken out of context. Many people would dismiss my points as shallow, erroneous and mischaracterizations of their religious traditions, and they would be right because they are. However there remains a kernel of truth in each statement, skewed as they may be. So people are also willing to ignore, or explain away the odd things which may exist in their traditions, but are not willing to extend that to others, especially minority religions.

Aside from this is a notion of efficacy, or reasonableness. I will provide a short comparison, between one of the oldest forms of religion, animism, and the default in the West, Christianity. From the Christian perspective, worshiping rocks, trees, rivers and mountains is the height of primitiveness; ignorant, superstitious and backwards. Why worship some dirt and pebbles, when you can pray to the supreme creator of the universe, and his son who died to give you the gift of immortality in the life to come? Well from an objective standpoint, it is the Christian, and not the animist, who hasn't got a leg to stand on. While one can not prove that rocks, trees, rivers and mountains have spirits, it can be proven that they exist. The Christian god on the other hand can not.

The practical effects of the objects of worship for the animist are tangible and far more influential than those of the Christian. A tree for example, can provide shelter from the elements, protection from predators, fuel for a fire, sticks to make tools, fruit to sustain you. The Christian god can not provide shelter, protection, fuel, tools or food, except in abstract or symbolic ways. Is it not eminently more sensible, since there are objective material benefits, to give praise and thanks to the objects which allow you to survive, rather than some disembodied sky man? Why then is animism held to be primitive or superstitious, when it is so much more practical than many so called modern religions? Little more than special pleading, or appeal to authority.

Gorm.