Common Problems with Pagan Identity

There is always the occasional pious pratt who tries to take heathenism for something either ultra-nationalistic or the quaint path of village idiot-savants. I think the popular misconception is in the title "heathen" itself. Officially, the proper title is "Pre-Christian Indigenous Tradition" because in continental Europe it is more about the respect and appreciation of one's cultural heritage and identity. This is actually the same for other tribal cultures across the world, something not only "New Age globalism" cannot seem to grasp, but particularly those of a strict dogmatic upbringing incline to regard anything outside of the ideal with contempt. This is actually the most potential bias one needs to overcome to truly realize a pagan path.

While such ordered practices as Wicca, Druidry, the OTO and Odinism may appease that need for dogma- without some form of heritage to connect to, it serves little more than pretense, though not necessarily the fault of the practice itself. I know a few serious initiates of these walks that do have their familial connections. Rather, I’m refering to those who merely assume the title to allege that they are hereditary witches of x+generations of secretly handed down knowledge. The moot point here is the attempt to compensate the lack of ancestral memory, which legendarily makes an integral part of the visionary process. This is something Ray Bowers (Clan of Tubal Cain) tried to point out with his concept of "Tapping the Bone" and hereditary witchcraft. Indeed, in true shamanic tradition, one is usually born not only with the ability but the ancestral experience from which it descends. Being born with it, though, doesn't necessarily mean it's been awakened. Some realize it in puberty, whereas others need that inevitable NDE/PTSD.

This also brings to mind the “It is written” dust collectors who will spend an entire lifetime searching whole university archives for the holy grail of ancient texts, or perusing every esoteric website known to humanity to become a virtual Fucanelli. The problem with this though, is not only the language barriers (that can be very subject to interpretation) but the lack of “on location” experience one can only gain from actual travel or having lived in the places where these writings originated.

Conversely, we also get the "chosen ones" of borderline paranoid schizophrenia/narcissistic personality disorders who, for all their identity crisis, would rather go into complete denial than venture any healthy scrutiny of what the voices are really trying to tell them. This you will find in any belief system, and is usually the want of escape from droll reality into the fantastic (or at least so they think).

While many will refer to paganism as a nature based belief, you will find, more often than not, it's biggest pretenders to be suburbanites, who despite their vast collections of new age store-bought herbs and tinctures, live largely on fast food and rarely ever had to endure the true hardships of self-sufficiency and resource management in the wilds, let alone agrarian life.

Yet, despite all this, some are quite happy to travel their own path of self-discovery, without the need of labels, interpretations of mysterious codes or dogma for that matter. Just a healthy sense of adventure, challenge and fascination for whatever life dishes out to them. Indeed, there is more wisdom in the realization of “know yourself” than you’ll ever find on the world wide web. Sometimes, you just have to get back to basics to realize the bigger picture.

Castles in the Air

On the British satellite Eurobird, one of the channels I get is called "Controversial TV". They show the odd interviews from the Conscious Media Network with various aspiring alternative thinkers. Yesterday they aired one on Gary Schwartz and his extensive research with mediums. I'm inclined to give his observations credence as he does not allow the medium and the subject to interact, let alone see each other.

As he mentioned there are some mediums who cheat by empathically probing the person. There are also various body language gestures one can read of a person on visual contact, and emotional impressions one can pick up through smell (pheromones). Thus I am not so convinced of John Edwards regardless of what credence Schwartz gives him. Such cut and dried sessions as illustrated on "Crossing Over" leave me cold. It's as if to suggest that borderline state is like Grand Central Station with them all trying to make a collect call to the land of the living. I'm sure that without some serious editting, there's no way they could present it as anything acceptable to the audience.

We live in a gravitational node so flooded with energetic noise, perception is one thing, and distinction another. While I can sense out the presence of things otherworldly, whatever lies beyond the humanly present may only come to me in a brief instant upon that portal opening. A great deal of energy seems to issue from it, followed by a sudden dead silence as soon as it closes. I've had some pretty strange experiences with my father's passing, starting with the shadow fylgia that passed through me three days before he died. It was that part of him that died in the first stroke, probing my empathic bond to the rest of himself. I could feel it sucking up those energies, chilling me to the bone. I knew it was time to let go and I detached myself before it could leave me with that raw amputated feeling. When he finally passed there was little more than a sense of elation followed by brief emptiness in that part of what some might call the collective unconscious. A few days later I was at the computer when an odd feeling drew my attention to the hallway, catching a glimpse of a dark fleeting form. It raced from down the hall into my study, leaping into the air with a bound out the balcony door behind me. The ringer on a broken alarm clock went off and the TV switched itself on. I'm not sure what to make of such things, but then his behaviour always inclined to puzzle me at the best of times. Our bond was purely empathic and not so emotional. Just the same, I'm not sure what to make of what these mediums suggest. On a night before my mother had her mini stroke I felt that portal open and something touched me with a compassionate sense of forewarning- a messenger of sorts. This came with a warming radiance like the rays of a spring sun. I'm not sure who it was except to be wary of my mother's condition, though the impression was that the outcome would be positive.

Adepts of the shamanic path say that these things only assume a form familiar to the contactee if it's the only way they can get through to them. I guess that means I simply lack fear and accept things for what they are. Mind you, "Grenzgängers" like Johnston in his house in Dartmouth, Nova Scotia, are ones that have suspended themselves chronokinetically. They have not yet left that boundary state into higher dimensionality. Nonetheless, it should be interesting what Schwartz's experiments have revealed on the subject of mediumship. The term Afterlife, in itself, I find a strange concept. I've never really concerned myself with that particular transition zone from one causality to another, rather the cycles themselves. I've had too many bizarre chronokinetic experiences to want to mess with that one, as there's a time and place for everything. On the other hand, it's not so much death that most seem to fear as much as the meaning of life. I've seen this fear so prevalent in some, it's amazing what lengths they gone to desperately appease it.

I took the liberty of watching a CMN interview with David Icke where he describes the series of mental breakdowns he experienced prior to his alleged revelations. While some may suggest these are schizophrenic delusions, to me they show all the classical symptoms of a narcissistic personality disorder. The withdrawal into innocence, wanton of spiritual guidance by forces beyond his control, conveniently writes off those inner demons as some alien insurgent. Yet as much as he denies his comparison to Jesus as having any relevance, it does carry the obvious undertones of a self-fulfilling persecution complex. I don't doubt the despotic control freakdoms amongst the powers that be, but just where is this new world order? Behind all that starry eyed rhetoric is nothing more than a carbon tax for the lack of Iraqi oil to bail out the banks of a doomed economy. Another come-on to keep those old corporate dinosaurs alive.

Yes, it's been a while...

...just too much happening on all fronts since the new year started. My brother and his wife have since moved in, given the unrelenting economic crisis. Indeed this is a year of many changes and subsequent reorganization. It boils down to that realization that governments are no longer cost effective and rapidly becoming too great a tax burden. I mean really, let's cut to the chase here, just who do they think they're fooling? First they use our hard earned money to bail out their bad investments in Iraqi oil. That has to be the biggest con of the century, but it doesn't stop there. Now they want us to raid granny's little treasure chest to cover the astrophysical proportions of their global inflationary gold deficit. While the conspiracy theorists are on about some New World Order, all I see is that old Rothschild dinosaur still trying to raise its greedy head. Yes, the arctic may be melting but I'd be freezing my ass off here, if it were not for the one good investment my father made in a wood stove. Nonetheless, I don't envy these warmongers in palatial mansions. They're so far removed from reality they would starve to death if they had to grow their own food. I would much rather see this, than all those left to die fighting on foreign soil while the real enemy lurks within our own boundaries. No I am not some fanatical idealist, just an ordinary citizen who can't see how melting down granny's baubles is gonna reduce the carbon footprint of perpetual bullshit. Read between the lies.

Another One Bites the Dust

Another "chosen one" preaching his wicca like a monk from another planet. Claims to have studied under Raymond Buckland personally since 1964, although I doubt they would have taken anyone that young. Rather, I suspect it was his mother who attended, at least until 1973 when Buckland Left for New Hampshire. Then there was Buckland’s brief flirt with Seax-Wicca in San Diego that he also undoubtably missed. So, if all accounts are true, he actually started with an Alexandrian coven. Indeed much of what he says is its' classical take on the earth/underworld goddess connection. Frankly, I don’t have a problem with any of that, or what anyone chooses to make peace with their innermost fears. It’s when they start dropping names to preach about giving up one’s “differences” to serve the “common cause”, that’s when I get leery. Despite all good intentions such ideals tend to overlook certain facts, that make that critical difference between reality and delusions of grandeur. Especially the idea of collectively using “magic” to “heal the earth” tends to leave me cold. It strikes me as a cop out from any real efforts at conservation. It’s rather like those people who preach about saving the forests, but have never planted or cared for a tree in their entire lives, to think nothing of the paper they relentlessly wipe their butts with . I think the flaw in the whole concept here begins with the meaning of “crafting”, in other words the “kenning” of what it really is you’re dealing with.

Last night, one of our members was holding a wiccan yule ritual in the chatroom and of course this wise guy couldn't resist the urge to intervene. Naturally, failing to give the impression he had hoped for, he implied we were little better than an RPG site. Heh, that's what he would have liked to believe, especially trying to come onto us like we're a bunch of neophytes. A colleague told me she had this flash of seeing this jerk in a room full hoarded popular pagany books, presenting their contents, word for word as his own. Indeed, this wouldn't surprise me. Such wannabe gurus always need some kind of written gospel they can preach, after all, to them it's all about peer worship. We get the same crap from Asatruar that try to preach the Havamal. Aside from the fact of the obvious Christian pathos, it would never occur to such fools that some of us have our own indigenous cultures and can do well without these damned missionaries. Yep, it's the spanish inquisition all over again. Well, the good news is that the blighter's account's been closed and is no more.

Harvesting Riesling on the Kaiserstuhl with my Coursemates

To break the conundrum of the bureaucracy in this CV writing course, our lady director slated last Tuesday for grape picking at the local ancient volcano in this fair region of the Upper Rhine Valley. I'm sure the wine gods were smiling on us as it was a perfectly clear and sunny day like no other!

Much Ado About Atlantis

No, this isn't about the netherrealms of magic crystal weilding superbeings that came to naught for messing with the earth mother. Indeed, like with the Mayan calendar doomsday prophets there has been alot of pretty fantastic ideas about the lost civilizations of a whole diaspora of different legends around the world. When you consider that some 18,000 years ago when great ice sheets dominated the northern regions, sea levels were about 120 meters (394 feet) lower than they are today, the real picture becomes clearer. Imagine what our ancestors thought when the Mediterranean and the Black Sea began to inundate, as a series of earthquakes began to break the divide between the Eurasian and the African tectonic plates. Consider the climatic changes subsequent to the shift in ocean currents and magma flows under the Earth's crust. Although this didn't all happen overnight, there were episodes of massive upheaval and flood that any survivor would certainly give account to future generations as a warning. Such is the story of Atlantis.

Here is the actual dialog:

In the Egyptian Delta, at the head of which the river Nile divides, there is a certain district which is called the district of Sais, and the great city of the district is also called Sais, and is the city from which King Amasis came. The citizens have a deity for their foundress; she is called in the Egyptian tongue Neith, and is asserted by them to be the same whom the Hellenes call Athene; they are great lovers of the Athenians, and say that they are in some way related to them. To this city came Solon, and was received there with great honour; he asked the priests who were most skilful in such matters, about antiquity, and made the discovery that neither he nor any other Hellene knew anything worth mentioning about the times of old. On one occasion, wishing to draw them on to speak of antiquity, he began to tell about the most ancient things in our part of the world-about Phoroneus, who is called "the first man," and about Niobe; and after the Deluge, of the survival of Deucalion and Pyrrha; and he traced the genealogy of their descendants, and reckoning up the dates, tried to compute how many years ago the events of which he was speaking happened. Thereupon one of the priests, who was of a very great age, said: O Solon, Solon, you Hellenes are never anything but children, and there is not an old man among you. Solon in return asked him what he meant. I mean to say, he replied, that in mind you are all young; there is no old opinion handed down among you by ancient tradition, nor any science which is hoary with age. And I will tell you why. There have been, and will be again, many destructions of mankind arising out of many causes; the greatest have been brought about by the agencies of fire and water, and other lesser ones by innumerable other causes. There is a story, which even you have preserved, that once upon a time Paethon, the son of Helios, having yoked the steeds in his father's chariot, because he was not able to drive them in the path of his father, burnt up all that was upon the earth, and was himself destroyed by a thunderbolt. Now this has the form of a myth, but really signifies a declination of the bodies moving in the heavens around the earth, and a great conflagration of things upon the earth, which recurs after long intervals; at such times those who live upon the mountains and in dry and lofty places are more liable to destruction than those who dwell by rivers or on the seashore. And from this calamity the Nile, who is our never-failing saviour, delivers and preserves us. When, on the other hand, the gods purge the earth with a deluge of water, the survivors in your country are herdsmen and shepherds who dwell on the mountains, but those who, like you, live in cities are carried by the rivers into the sea. Whereas in this land, neither then nor at any other time, does the water come down from above on the fields, having always a tendency to come up from below; for which reason the traditions preserved here are the most ancient.The fact is, that wherever the extremity of winter frost or of summer does not prevent, mankind exist, sometimes in greater, sometimes in lesser numbers. And whatever happened either in your country or in ours, or in any other region of which we are informed-if there were any actions noble or great or in any other way remarkable, they have all been written down by us of old, and are preserved in our temples. Whereas just when you and other nations are beginning to be provided with letters and the other requisites of civilized life, after the usual interval, the stream from heaven, like a pestilence, comes pouring down, and leaves only those of you who are destitute of letters and education; and so you have to begin all over again like children, and know nothing of what happened in ancient times, either among us or among yourselves. As for those genealogies of yours which you just now recounted to us, Solon, they are no better than the tales of children. In the first place you remember a single deluge only, but there were many previous ones; in the next place, you do not know that there formerly dwelt in your land the fairest and noblest race of men which ever lived, and that you and your whole city are descended from a small seed or remnant of them which survived. And this was unknown to you, because, for many generations, the survivors of that destruction died, leaving no written word. For there was a time, Solon, before the great deluge of all, when the city which now is Athens was first in war and in every way the best governed of all cities, is said to have performed the noblest deeds and to have had the fairest constitution of any of which tradition tells, under the face of heaven.Solon marvelled at his words, and earnestly requested the priests to inform him exactly and in order about these former citizens. You are welcome to hear about them, Solon, said the priest, both for your own sake and for that of your city, and above all, for the sake of the goddess who is the common patron and parent and educator of both our cities. She founded your city a thousand years before ours, receiving from the Earth and Hephaestus the seed of your race, and afterwards she founded ours, of which the constitution is recorded in our sacred registers to be eight thousand years old. As touching your citizens of nine thousand years ago, I will briefly inform you of their laws and of their most famous action; the exact particulars of the whole we will hereafter go through at our leisure in the sacred registers themselves. If you compare these very laws with ours you will find that many of ours are the counterpart of yours as they were in the olden time. In the first place, there is the caste of priests, which is separated from all the others; next, there are the artificers, who ply their several crafts by themselves and do not intermix; and also there is the class of shepherds and of hunters, as well as that of husbandmen; and you will observe, too, that the warriors in Egypt are distinct from all the other classes, and are commanded by the law to devote themselves solely to military pursuits; moreover, the weapons which they carry are shields and spears, a style of equipment which the goddess taught of Asiatics first to us, as in your part of the world first to you. Then as to wisdom, do you observe how our law from the very first made a study of the whole order of things, extending even to prophecy and medicine which gives health, out of these divine elements deriving what was needful for human life, and adding every sort of knowledge which was akin to them. All this order and arrangement the goddess first imparted to you when establishing your city; and she chose the spot of earth in which you were born, because she saw that the happy temperament of the seasons in that land would produce the wisest of men. Wherefore the goddess, who was a lover both of war and of wisdom, selected and first of all settled that spot which was the most likely to produce men likest herself. And there you dwelt, having such laws as these and still better ones, and excelled all mankind in all virtue, as became the children and disciples of the gods.Many great and wonderful deeds are recorded of your state in our histories. But one of them exceeds all the rest in greatness and valour. For these histories tell of a mighty power which unprovoked made an expedition against the whole of Europe and Asia, and to which your city put an end. This power came forth out of the Atlantic Ocean, for in those days the Atlantic was navigable; and there was an island situated in front of the straits which are by you called the Pillars of Heracles; the island was larger than Libya and Asia put together, and was the way to other islands, and from these you might pass to the whole of the opposite continent which surrounded the true ocean; for this sea which is within the Straits of Heracles is only a harbour, having a narrow entrance, but that other is a real sea, and the surrounding land may be most truly called a boundless continent. Now in this island of Atlantis there was a great and wonderful empire which had rule over the whole island and several others, and over parts of the continent, and, furthermore, the men of Atlantis had subjected the parts of Libya within the columns of Heracles as far as Egypt, and of Europe as far as Tyrrhenia. This vast power, gathered into one, endeavoured to subdue at a blow our country and yours and the whole of the region within the straits; and then, Solon, your country shone forth, in the excellence of her virtue and strength, among all mankind. She was pre-eminent in courage and military skill, and was the leader of the Hellenes. And when the rest fell off from her, being compelled to stand alone, after having undergone the very extremity of danger, she defeated and triumphed over the invaders, and preserved from slavery those who were not yet subjugated, and generously liberated all the rest of us who dwell within the pillars. But afterwards there occurred violent earthquakes and floods; and in a single day and night of misfortune all your warlike men in a body sank into the earth, and the island of Atlantis in like manner disappeared in the depths of the sea. For which reason the sea in those parts is impassable and impenetrable, because there is a shoal of mud in the way; and this was caused by the subsidence of the island.I have told you briefly, Socrates, what the aged Critias heard from Solon and related to us. And when you were speaking yesterday about your city and citizens, the tale which I have just been repeating to you came into my mind, and I remarked with astonishment how, by some mysterious coincidence, you agreed in almost every particular with the narrative of Solon; but I did not like to speak at the moment. For a long time had elapsed, and I had forgotten too much; I thought that I must first of all run over the narrative in my own mind, and then I would speak. And so I readily assented to your request yesterday, considering that in all such cases the chief difficulty is to find a tale suitable to our purpose, and that with such a tale we should be fairly well provided.And therefore, as Hermocrates has told you, on my way home yesterday I at once communicated the tale to my companions as I remembered it; and after I left them, during the night by thinking I recovered nearly the whole it. Truly, as is often said, the lessons of our childhood make wonderful impression on our memories; for I am not sure that I could remember all the discourse of yesterday, but I should be much surprised if I forgot any of these things which I have heard very long ago. I listened at the time with childlike interest to the old man's narrative; he was very ready to teach me, and I asked him again and again to repeat his words, so that like an indelible picture they were branded into my mind. As soon as the day broke, I rehearsed them as he spoke them to my companions, that they, as well as myself, might have something to say. And now, Socrates, to make an end my preface, I am ready to tell you the whole tale. I will give you not only the general heads, but the particulars, as they were told to me. The city and citizens, which you yesterday described to us in fiction, we will now transfer to the world of reality. It shall be the ancient city of Athens, and we will suppose that the citizens whom you imagined, were our veritable ancestors, of whom the priest spoke; they will perfectly harmonise, and there will be no inconsistency in saying that the citizens of your republic are these ancient Athenians. Let us divide the subject among us, and all endeavour according to our ability gracefully to execute the task which you have imposed upon us. Consider then, Socrates, if this narrative is suited to the purpose, or whether we should seek for some other instead.

http://en.wikisource.org/wiki/Timaeus
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Atlantis
http://atlantis-today.com/Atlantis_Atlantis_Code.htm
http://www.global-greenhouse-warming.com/ice-ages-and-sea-levels.html
http://ethomas.web.wesleyan.edu/ees123/iceages.htm

Vik, Iceland

In the summer of 1981, I returned to Iceland for another brief interlude away from the chaos of densely populated continental Europe. This time I managed to make it to Vik along the south coast, and spent a night in a peculiar guest house, attached to an old corrugated Nissen hut. Atop the steep rise behind it, I could see the skeletal remains of an old air base. All along the coastline the beach is black, largely the flood plain of the Myrdalsjökull glacier where Katla recently erupted. Out to sea against the stormy horizon, stand several stark black pinnacles of basalt, seeming much like you've reached the legendary Ultima Thule.

Exhausted from the long drive across the midlands, I readily went to my room, tossed aside my gear and practically fell asleep the minute I hit that bed. I had the strangest dream. I was a British ordinance Major, in some makeshift officers club. The place was packed and spirits were riding quite high. Somebody came up and took me by the shoulders wholeheartedly cheering excitedly, "We won, old chap, we won!" It's my good guess this was the end of the war we were celebrating. When I finally woke up, I felt somewhat askew, so I left the room and went down to the small sitting lounge of the reception, to make some sense of things. At some point I just plonked myself down on a sofa, shaking my head, still befuddled. It was then I realized the owner was standing there grinning at me like a cheshire cat. The grin broadened ever more as he cut straight to the chase; "Strange dreams, huh?" "Yeah, no kidding" I blurted out eying him curiously. Obviously I wasn't the first this had happened to, as I didn't have to say much. He explained that amongst other things, Vik had been a refueling station for transatlantic missions towards the end of WWII, and that practically all his guests had had strange dreams about it.

It's been said that around Iceland, there are alot of places that seem to border on the otherworldly. Indeed, no surprise what inspired the extraordinary myths of their Norse ancestors.