2012 In Review

I have every intention of revisiting the topic of my last couple posts, but a quick cold intervened over the last few days (beaten into submission with a barrage of echinacea tea and ColdEeze and tons of sleep). Since today is the last day of 2012, I thought I would share some end-of-the-year reflections. I have a tendency to do these types of reviews when my energy is high (for instance, this past year, I only got around to it in March, since we were dealing with the whole thing of moving across the country), and that is almost never during the week between Christmas and New Year's Day. This year, however, I think it might be worth an attempt at least, before plunging into the next season of FF&C and the craziness that will be this coming spring.

And so. I plan to do some kind of tarot reading later tonight, after Jeff and I get back from our New Year's Eve dinner date, but for now, I'm stealing something that Finn shared (it may have originated over on TC, I'm not sure) to get me ruminating on the past year. Here goes.

2012 Review

1. What did you do in 2012 that you’d never done before?

Namely, moved across the country to live in Seattle. There are so many first-evers that have resulted from that, it feels odd to list all of them, but I'll try to highlight some of the more important ones:
- Saw the Pacific Ocean for the first time.
- Taught naturalist programs to school groups and the general public.
- Celebrated solar festivals with a local OBOD group.
- Started my own business. (Put in more than 60 hours of work a week doing a job I love.)
- Wrote the first draft of a novel (okay, almost — in word count alone, definitely).
- Met a new goddess.
- Saw the salmon returning to spawn.
- Voted to legalize gay marriage! Yay!


2. Did you keep your new years’ resolutions, and will you make more for next year?

I didn't make very many resolutions back in December of last year, but looking at my Uncensored To-Do List from back in March, I see that many of the things I'd hoped to do (or keep doing) had to fall by the wayside or take second priority to FF&C and my volunteer work. This is, in some ways, a bit disappointing. But in other ways, I think it's a natural process of winnowing that needs to take place as I settle into more fulfilling work that requires a larger time and energy commitment.

On the other hand, there are some commitments that I think I need to revisit and renew, in particular those that have to do with establishing healthy habits for both body and spirit. So yes, I will be making some resolutions for the coming year.


3. Did anyone close to you give birth?

Ugh. This was the EW's off year. She popped one out right before our wedding last year, and another one is apparently on the way for next year. Some people need to stop procreating.


4. Did anyone close to you die?

Thankfully, no.


5. What countries did you visit?

Just the one I live in. But if we revise this to bioregions, I've seen quite a few this year, including the low-lying Puget Sound area (because I live there now) and the wild mountainous regions of the Pacific Northwest. We drove through the usual deserts and grasslands of the central U.S. during our move early this year, but we didn't linger.


6. What would you like to have in 2013 that you lacked in 2012?

I suppose it would be snarky to answer: Time. Honestly, I feel that my life is very full these days, both of wonderful things that I'm grateful for, and not-so-wonderful things that cause stress. So what I would like for 2013 is a sense of perspective and an attitude of non-attachment and simplicity that will help me to make the necessary choices about what to hold onto and what to release. Does that sound too New Agey?


7. What dates from 2012 will remain etched upon your memory, and why?

The Wild Goose West Festival was fantastic and inspiring, as were the few days leading up to it that Jeff and I spent in the yurt on the Oregon coast.

On a less happy note, the day that we had to spend in court because of the EW. Too often, I find myself back in that courtroom going over all the things that we could have done or said.


8. What was your biggest achievement of the year?

Starting my own business and producing 50 hour-long podcast episodes and two successful seasons. But a close second would be finally getting a first draft of a novel written. (On the other hand, if you ask the internet, it would probably be writing that Hipster Paganism post. #irony)


9. What was your biggest failure?

No single failure, really, but the slow build up of minor daily failures (like the failure to exercise as regularly as I'd hoped, or to eat as well as I should, or to meditate on a daily basis), which has resulted in me still being 15 or so pounds overweight and, in general, feeling more stressed both physically and spiritually than is really necessary.


10. Did you suffer illness or injury?

Stupid recurring minor aches and pains in my shoulders and back, most of which I'm sure has to do with lack of regular exercise and stretching. Other than that, nothing beyond the normal seasonal colds and such.


11. What was the best thing you bought?

I didn't technically buy it, but my birthday gift this year was an iPad, and it has far exceeded my expectations.

As for something I actually bought, since they are so few and far between, I'd say my hiking boots, followed by the cheap treadmill/standing desk combo I got so I could walk while I work. But the $2 thirft-store leather coat (to be converted into some sort of steampunk outfit in the future) was pretty awesome, too.


12. Whose behavior merited celebration?

Jeff continues to win Husband of the Year in my heart. Our first year of marriage was pretty damned kickass, and I can't wait for many, many more.

The kids were awesome when they came out to visit us in Seattle, though they tended to be a bit wild and rude during our last visit with them over Solstice. Still, in general, they are growing up to be lovely people and it's always so cool to hang out with them.

My brother, who left his well-paying corporate job to go back to grad school and is now earning his Masters at Columbia. I'm so proud to have a brother who puts knowledge and social justice ahead of profit.

Also, Penny is such an inspiring person, she makes me want to be awesome.


13. Whose behavior made you appalled and depressed?

Don't get me started. Mostly people on the internet being the reason Why We Can't Have Nice Things (especially in the Pagan community — I need to learn to hold this loosely and not get upset when certain Jerks Celebre decide to attack me personally). Politicians, but in particular asshat Republicans who keep trying to fling us back into the stone age. Unsurprisingly, the EW, who continues to be a weirdly small-minded person who lies about almost everything, even though she's really bad at it.


14. Where did most of your money go?

Most of "my" money went to paying student loans, and after that to the podcast, occasional dinner dates with Jeff, a few ebooks, and the rest into savings.

Most of our money as a couple went to the EW — Jeff calculated it out that we spend about 44% of our total joint income on child support and travel expenses for the kids. After that, rent and food are our next biggest expenses, followed by the usual utility bills and such. We're trying to live a pretty modest lifestyle, but it's hard not to be resentful when you know that those thousands of dollars in child support are financing the EW's next pregnancy and a new pair of toe-shoes.


15. What did you get really, really, really excited about?

The podcast, on numerous occasions. Joining SageWoman as a columnist. Welcoming a new goddess into my life. My naturalist training and teaching. My Saturn Return finally being over. Steampunk Druidry.


16. What song will always remind you of 2012?

Er..... Probably something from Professor Elemental (Jeff's fault). Certainly not anything from that awful movie version of Les Miz.


17. Compared to this time last year, are you:

a) happier or sadder? Happier, and most definitely less stressed.

b) thinner or fatter? Maybe a little bit heavier, unfortunately.

c) richer or poorer? Certainly less in debt than last year, and were it not for the asinine new child custody agreement that has Jeff spending thousands on unnecessary travel while the EW doesn't contribute a dime, we'd be richer.


18. What do you wish you’d done more of?

Hiking and spending time out in nature (not just in the local parks, but out in the wilderness). Exercising and doing regular yoga. Reading challenging books, especially nonfiction (though I read a lot more fiction this year than in previous years).


19. What do you wish you’d done less of?

Wasting time being angry or annoyed with people on the internet. Worrying about money and having to battle with the EW's need to control our lives long-distance. Eating ice cream and other comfort foods.


20. How will you be spending Christmas?

We spent Christmas itself hanging out at home, just the two of us, watching The Hogfather and eating homemade lembas (that Finn made for us!) and drinking hot chocolate.

We spent Solstice with the kids visiting my parents, with Dan (and his two cats) there, too, and Jeff's Aunt Melanie coming to visit for a couple days. It was a full house, but it was wonderful to see everybody!


21. What was your favorite month of 2011?

I think August was pretty awesome. We'd just finished our first successful season of FF&C, and Jeff was back home from his time on the east coast with the kids. We had gorgeous weather and lots of time on weekends to go out and enjoy it. I did a lot of writing and spiritual work.

November was pretty fun, too, though, thanks to NaNoWriMo, though I started to burn out by the end.


22. Did you fall in love in 2012?

I'm very much in love with Jeff. It's kind of astounding how awesome he is.


23. How many one-night stands?

All of my nightstands last for more than one night; they're made of wood.


24. What was your favorite TV program?

I get a kick out of The Mindy Project, which just started this year and has a lot of the same people working on it that did The Office. Other than that, eh, re-runs courtesy of Amazon Prime.


25. Do you hate anyone now that you didn’t hate this time last year?

I try not to hate people. However, I am more familiar with some of the reasons why I dislike so many Republicans.


26. What was the best book you read?

Jeff has been introducing me to the old Sherlock Holmes stories (which are way better than all of the current remakes coming out in film and television), and I really enjoyed Juliet Marillier's trilogy, the Bridei Chronicles, in particular the third book, The Well of Shades.

I really can't think of any really great nonfiction books I've read. Lyanda Lynn Haupt's Crow Planet was enjoyable, but not ground-breaking or anything, and JMG's Mystery Teachings from the Living Earth was alright, though it also left a lot wanting. I have so many cool books on my to-read list, but just haven't had the time to get to them. (For instance, for Solstice I got an awesome collection of essays on the evolution of the concept of "wilderness" in Western society!)


27. What was your greatest musical discovery?

B sharp


28. What did you want and get?

An iPad. A wonderful little apartment (with counter space!)


29. What did you want and not get?

A wonderful little apartment close to a park — this, I think, has been the subtlest but most important disappointment of the year. I had not anticipated how big a difference this would make to my ability to get out to nature regularly. Still, this apartment is so vastly better than the one we were living in in Pittsburgh, it's worth it.


30. What was your favorite film of this year?

A tie between Brave and The Hobbit, I think, which aside from a few other unremarkable ones are pretty much the only movies I've seen this year. (Why do all these questions make me feel like I need to get out of the house more?)


31. What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you?

I turned 29 this year, without very much pomp or celebration. Jeff was out in New Hampshire with the kids, so I had a quiet day probably puttering around the house doing what I normally do.


32. What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying?

If we had been able to reach a reasonable child custody agreement in which Jeff got to see the kids for two months in the summer, and the EW had to pay for half of the transportation costs of sending the kids to Seattle once a year.


33. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2012?

I don't know what this question means.

Ummm.... I would say "practical naturalist." Is that a thing? Lots of practical clothes, layers against the wind and rain, and of course, my awesome hiking boots.


34. What kept you sane?

Jeff. Sushi. Time by myself. Watching the crows in the hemlock tree across the street.


35. Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most?

I don't know.... Patrick Stewart? (I feel old.)


36. What political issue stirred you the most?

I really can't help but cry every time the issue of marriage equality comes up. Despite all of the places where we seem to be going backwards, I am so so proud of the progress we've made towards equality and acceptance on that front.

Otherwise, the usual environmental issues. Out here, we have reason to be concerned about them trying to run coal trains through the area to ship coal over to China, where they'll burn it without any regulations and the pollution will end up back over here anyway. #gah


37. Who did you miss?

As for people: I miss hanging out with Arthur watching Doctor Who and Battlestar Galactica on Thursdays. As for non-humans: I miss the woods and mountains of western PA, the city of Pittsburgh (Frick Park and Phipps Conservatory, in particular), and the rolling farmlands of Lancaster county.


38. Who were the best new people you met?

Finn rocks. :) I knew her online, but we got to meet in person once we moved out here.

I also got to meet the amazing people who work for the city parks, like Penny, Anne, Belinda, Brian, and a bunch of other volunteers, who are all pretty kickass.


39. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2012.

I just saw this quote somewhere recently that I think sort of sums it up: "If a conductor wants to lead the orchestra, they have to turn their back to the crowd."

I guess another way of saying this is that finding fulfilling work that inspires and enchants you goes a long way to make up for not being allowed to sit at the Popular Kids Table in the great High School Cafeteria of Life. (And the accompanying insight is that, sadly, most people never really leave the high school cafeteria, and it's no use getting angry with them about it. Just make friends with the teachers and the lunch lady, and find where all the other nerds are sitting. ;)


40. Quote a song lyric that sums up your year:

Though the soldiers may be fighting
In the trenches or on a battleship at sea
But there isn't any war
When the clock strikes four
EVERYTHING STOPS FOR TEA


(My gods that ended up being a long questionaire!)

The Dance of Will and Surrender (Part 1)

The conversation about faith, free will, submission and discernment continues over on John's blog, and talk has turned to the nature of the will itself, and what exactly it actually means to submit or surrender one's will to an external authority. (Setting aside for a moment the nature of that external authority.)

But let me back up. I had a conversation with Jeff over dinner tonight exploring in more detail what I find to be problematic with Elani's approach to an asymmetrical faith, in which the gods are powerful and, luckily for us, benevolent and therefore demand and expect our obedience.

On the Nature of Gods (And Other Messy Things)

A few things to note: First of all, the question of an asymmetrical faith-based relationship with the gods is separate from a question about whether or not one believes they exist. This is why I think the analogy of the marriage is helpful. I have a very equal and mutually trusting relationship with Jeff, and for us the idea that either of us would be expected to "submit" to or "obey" the other (as those terms are popularly understood is) is laughable. But having an equal relationship with Jeff doesn't mean I don't believe he exists, or that I don't believe that, at least in the most obvious and mundane way, he is a separate person from me.

In other words, despite what Elani claims, hard polytheism does not require one to adopt an asymmetrical faith-based relationship with the gods. Neither does reconstructionism as an approach to one's religious tradition. These are two assertions that Elani makes several times, and as far as I can tell, they have no real basis.

However, believing that some kind of equal and mutual relationship between the gods is possible does mean that I might not agree with certain assumptions about what the gods are like. This is not a question of existence or nonexistence, or whether or not I "take the gods seriously." (Or at least, it is only a debate over existence if you take the narrow view that in order for a god to be considered "real" it must conform to your particular theology.) It is instead of a question of whether or not a person believes that spiritual relationship is defined in terms of hierarchy. The word "submission" itself implicitly relies on a concept of hierarchy, in which the human being submitting to a god is beneath that god.

I should say that reconstructionism in general does not require a faith based in a theology of hierarchy. Hellenistic reconstructionism might very well require it, since the ancient Greek and Roman cultures were notoriously patriarchal and hierarchical. Why anyone would want to reconstruct that part of our history is beyond me. (Weirdly, Elani states in one post on her blog that because she was not raised Christian, unlike many Pagans, she does not have hang-ups about issues of submission and authority — as if old psychological wounds are the only reason a person might be uncomfortable with such concepts.)

So if I don't subscribe to a theology of hierarchy when it comes to my understanding of the gods, then what do I think the gods are like?

That is a complex question, but I find myself once again going back to ecology and the idea of "natural polytheism" as I described it back in my post on NUP:

Natural polytheism embraces the science of ecology as a basic metaphor for theological inquiry. In other words, natural polytheism seeks to understand our relationship with the gods as an aspect of interrelated systems of being, consciousness and meaning.

Hierarchies are rare in the science of ecology, and where they do exist, they usually take the form of things like trophic cascades or altitudinal zonation. In other words, though we may rank things within an ecosystem, we rank them with regard to a very particular aspect of their relationship with the larger community. A hemlock is not superior (in any existential sense) to an alder simply because it happens to grow at a higher elevation; a gray wolf is not superior to an elk, which is not superior to a douglas fir. Even when we identify species that play a special or especially important role within an ecosystem — such as a keystone species, a foundation species, or an indicator species — these species are not considered "higher" or "better" than other species. Rather, their importance is contingent upon their relationship with the rest of the community; and in fact, sometimes the same species might be a keystone in one ecosystem, but not in another. It would be impractical, if not impossible, to establish some kind of ontological ranked system for all of these species, or for individuals within a species. (Except insofar as the social behaviors of the animals themselves establish a ranking within a given social group; but even these are fluid and subject to change. You'd be hard-pressed to argue that Mr. Bobo is the alpha male gorilla because of some inherent superiority that all the other gorillas recognize. There is no divine mandate for gorillas, or for gray wolves for that matter, as we got to witness at the Wolf Sanctuary in Pennsylvania last week.) The point in all of this is that, within ecology, the idea of ranking is largely a convenient construct for understanding the complex patterns of relationship that exist within a community of living (and non-living) beings; such rankings have specific contexts in which they are relevant, and they never carry the connotation of a species of individual being "superior" or "inferior." Rank, in ecology, is a matter of function and relationship, not of a being's essential nature.

How this applies to theology and the nature of deity is something I'm still working out. Basically, what I am saying is that the gods are not "better" or "higher" than human beings. They are merely different from humans. They might be bigger, or deeper, or more expansive, or alternately more focused, in how they function and how we relate to them (as compared to how we relate to, say, other human beings)... but none of this implies a superiority on their part, or the necessity of submission or obedience on our part.

Maybe an analogy will help. We do not, for instance, "obey" a forest fire. We may be helpless in the face of such a fire, and it might even have the power of life or death over us, and we cannot help but deal with the effects of a forest fire when one occurs. But this is not obedience. All this may also be true of a god — we might acknowledge that the influence of a god is overwhelming, or that a god has the power of life or death over us (this is, if I'm remembering correctly, the very definition of a deity that Emma Restall Orr uses). But acknowledging this is not the same thing as obedience.

Furthermore, certain species of trees (such as the lodgepole pine) have adapted to the regular recurrence of forest fires within an ecosystem in ways that are to their own evolutionary advantage. For instance, their cones only open when exposed to extreme heat. On the one hand, this conserves the energy which a tree puts into reproduction, for it will not create and release seeds that are then unable to compete with older, larger and better established trees. On the other hand, this adaptation takes advantage of the conditions created by the forest fire, and young seedlings flourish in the nutrient-enriched soil and the ample sunlight available after a fire has swept through and cleared the area of older, larger trees. But it would be nonsensical to say that, in this case, the lodgepole pine "submits" to the forest fire and, as a result, benefits from its submission. In the same way, we might learn how to cultivate our relationship with a god so that we can better negotiate that god's influence in our lives, even coming to embrace that influence in a way that helps us while acknowledging that we have not altered the nature of that god.... but this is not submission, so much as harmonious relationship.

A forest fire, as an event rather than a living being, is maybe not even the best example. The best example are some of the mutualist or engineer species, which not only learn how to fit themselves into a pre-existing environment, but actually actively shape their environments in ways that carve out the niches necessary for their survival and the survival of other species. My relationship with a forest fire is, admittedly, a bit one way (though I might be able to create environmental conditions that either encourage or discourage a forest fire from happening). But the bear's relationship with the salmon is mutually beneficial to both, and also beneficial to other species within the ecosystem, even though the salmon is eaten by the bear.

In this same way, I might have a relationship with a god who influences my life in a very particular way, who shapes me through that influence and guides my life. I may choose to accept and embrace that influence, but I might just as well choose to resist it or attempt to alter or redirect it through my relationship with that god. Whether I accept or resist this influence determines how it shapes me, and it also determines the future nature of our relationship. In this case, there is a mutual relationship that can be negotiated on both sides, there is a reciprocity of influence (especially if we are assuming a personal and, to some extent, autonomous or freely acting god). But what there isn't — not even a hint of — is hierarchy.

I am still exploring these ideas, and I have a lot more to say on this whole topic — I haven't even scratched the surface of my conversation with Jeff over dinner tonight, in fact — but it is late enough now that I think some ice cream and a good book are in order.

More on this in the near future.

Deity, Discernment and Faith

John Halstead shared a very interesting post the other day, titled "The role of faith and hubris in Paganism," which has sparked a lot of thought and commenting from me. Below, I'm just going to re-post some of the (far too verbose) comments I've left both on his blog, and on a response posted by one of the people he quotes in his post.

My initial response to his blog post was:

I do wonder, though, if much of the character of faith-based hard polytheism is influenced specifically by Protestant and Evangelical denominations of Christianity, particularly here in the U.S. Long before I became a Pagan, I found myself having these kinds of conversations because I was raised in a (liberal) Catholic tradition that emphasized the vital and necessary role of a person’s own conscience and a careful process of discernment in determining how to act on “divine inspiration,” always with an awareness that distinguishing the source of that inspiration can be nearly impossible. (But then again, I’m not sure if this is something that’s really common to Catholicism but not Protestantism, or if it’s something common to liberal Christianity rather than conservative Christianity, or if it’s just an accident that this was an emphasis in my childhood church and doesn’t actually represent a larger trend at all.)

Placing devotion to a deity in the context of personal discernment pretty much rules out for me any notion of handing over my will or submitting myself entirely to an external force. Not to mention — and maybe I am just not special enough to be on any god’s mailing list — I’m rarely on the receiving end of so obvious or direct a message from the gods that it includes how high I need to jump or which bridge I should be jumping from. My spiritual life is much more an on-going process of deep listening to a complex web of urges, attractions, distractions and repulsions, the various sources of which are just as often in the natural world around me or in my own psyche as in some externalized god-form (more often, I should say). I might sometimes talk about my relationship with my gods in terms of “messages” or guidance or inspiration, but it’s almost always metaphorical, not literal.

For Elani, and others, it seems like hubris to question the instructions of the gods. For me, it seems deeply arrogant to be too eager to attribute our various impulses to some external deity, to clothe our instincts or intuitions in the finery of divine inspiration as a way of elevating or ennobling them. It seems hubris to act on our assumptions that we are receiving and hearing such messages correctly, without first turning a very careful and critical eye on all of the ways our own desires, assumptions and projections might be biasing us.

Which is not to say that I don’t believe there is some transcendent divine reality that transcends not only our individual selves (and our Selves), but also our human and more-than-human/natural communities as well. But determining what influence that transcendent divinity has on our lives has, for me, always been an exercise in retrospective contemplation, where the patterns of coincidence and chance resolve into a coherent and beautiful melody even when, at the time, I was only ever bumbling along doing my best to tease out the signal from the noise.

I followed this up with a visit to Elani Temperance's blog, where I eventually succeeded (Google bugs not withstanding) to leave this comment on her post, "The girl who kicked the hornets nest (again), part 2":

I only just got home from traveling for the winter holidays visiting family, and so I was only just now able to catch up on John's post and all of these various replies. I wanted to say thanks for continuing the conversation. I wasn't familiar with your writing and John's brief quote was the first I'd heard of it -- I mention that, because I have some questions that I'd love to hear your thoughts on and, if you've already addressed them elsewhere in your prolific blog, even just a list of links of your past writing on the subject would be awesome. :)

Firstly, I was really struck by how you consistently equated a very specific kind of asymmetrical faith-based approach to religion with religion and/or organized tradition in general. B.T. touched on this already when he pointed out that it wasn't the religiousness of your approach that was threatening to him, but the more specific *kind* of faith you described. I was wondering if you could elaborate on why you don't think that other approaches (which may or may not include the kind of asymmetrical faith you have) are "religious" or "organized." You seem to suggest that traditions without asymmetrical relationship lack structure, cohesion, "solid community, shared gnosis, etc." For instance, right after quoting B.T.'s comment, you say:

"While I doubt that a more structured religious movement within Paganism will be the end of Paganism, I also think that the Traditions based upon religious commonalities will outlast the ones without them, simply because there is some 'glue' missing."

Because you seem to be equating "religion" with *your* particular approach to faith, it sounds a lot like you're saying that the only way to have an organized religious tradition is to place an asymmetrical relationship with the gods, in which the gods hold the power and authority, at the center of one's religious life. But it seems to me that we have many, many examples of long-lasting religious traditions that do not at all include your view of faith as inherently or necessarily asymmetrical. Is that what you meant to say, or have I misunderstood your point here?

Another point that intrigues me, that you didn't really get into in this post but that I'd love to hear more about, is the exact nature of how you listen to your gods. That is, how this asymmetrical relationship with them actually manifests for you. Your example of the synchronicity of the conversation with the masseuse is interesting, but it doesn't sound like anything different from the experiences someone might have if they had a more equal relationship with their god(s), or even someone who didn't believe in or have a relationship with any god(s) at all.

I left this comment on John's original post, and I'll reshare it here because I think it has some bearing:

"Maybe I'm just not special enough to be on any god’s mailing list — but I’m rarely on the receiving end of so obvious or direct a message from the gods that it includes how high I need to jump or which bridge I should be jumping from. My spiritual life is much more an on-going process of deep listening to a complex web of urges, attractions, distractions and repulsions, the various sources of which are just as often in the natural world around me or in my own psyche as in some externalized god-form. I might sometimes talk about my relationship with my gods in terms of “messages” or guidance or inspiration, but it’s almost always metaphorical, not literal.

It seems like for Elani, and others, it's hubris to question the instructions of the gods. For me, it seems deeply arrogant to be too eager to attribute our various impulses to some external deity, to clothe our instincts or intuitions in the finery of divine inspiration as a way of elevating or ennobling them. It seems hubris to act on our assumptions that we are receiving and hearing such messages correctly, without first turning a very careful and critical eye on all of the ways our own desires, assumptions and projections might be biasing us.

Which is not to say that I don’t believe there is some transcendent divine reality that transcends not only our individual selves, but also our human and more-than-human/natural communities as well. But determining what influence that transcendent divinity has on our lives has, for me, always been an exercise in retrospective contemplation, where the patterns of coincidence and chance resolve into a coherent and beautiful melody even when, at the time, I was only ever bumbling along doing my best to tease out the signal from the noise."

I guess my question for you is, how does an asymmetrical relationship with the gods help you to "tease out the signal from the noise"? If you believe that your deities really are real, external beings separate from yourself, then how do you guard against attributing your own desires and biases to them? In other words, how do you avoid making your gods "in your own image"? What process of discernment do you use to distinguish authentic communications from your deities from your own projections or sentimental imaginings? And what are those authentic communications actually like?

Sorry to bombard you with so many questions. I find this conversation really intriguing, and I hope you'll have a chance to explore some of these issues. Thanks for being willing to share and open yourself up to criticism.

I put emphasis on the part where I quote myself from the comment I left on John's post, in part because I think this is maybe the heart of the matter for me, and in part because the second version has been cleaned up a bit for the sake of clarity. For even more clarity, I ended up commenting again on John's original post after he replied to my first comment. In particular, John said:

While I do think there is a certain amount of over-confidence in polytheistic discourse, “hubris” and “arrogance” just do not seem like the right words to describe Elani’s practice. If you watch some of the videos she has posted of her practice, you will see that humility characterizes everything she does.

To which I responded:

Thanks for bringing this up -- I should have clarified more in my original comment, and I hope I didn't step on any toes by accident. "Hubris" may not be the right word for Elani's practice at all. Reading your brief quotes from her here was the first time I've encountered any of her writing, so I really didn't mean to judge her practice specifically (since I know pretty much nothing about it). Instead, I meant to offer my own definition of "hubris" in the religious sense, in the context of our definition of and relationship with deity. (In other words, "That's not a knife. This is a knife." ;))

I'm intrigued by the idea of "kharis" that Elani mentions -- it looks like this Greek word shares etymological roots with words like charity, charisma and even eucharist, all very potent words in various forms of Christianity and many of them directly related to the theological concept of grace. An emphasis on "kharis" as a kind of divine grace once again seems to put this approach to polytheism in line with more Protestant forms of Christianity, not to mention the charismatic forms of the Evangelicals in particular. I really appreciate the enthusiasm and celebratory aspect of Evangelicalism, though being an introvert myself and more inclined to personal moments of poesis, I think I'm naturally more drawn to mysticism than public charismatic movements. :)

All that said... I'm not sure merely a belief in divine grace is enough to justify submission, at least not to me. Why would anyone submit to a deity if they did not hold a belief in the goodness of that deity? It seems like that is not so much an explanation for the choice, as it is its most basic prerequisite. One could easily believe that the gods are benevolent without agreeing that this necessitates complete surrender to them. It seems like, instead, there has to be an accompanying belief that humans are as imperfect and flawed as the gods are benevolent and powerful, in order to explain why we must not merely enjoy but utterly submit to divine guidance.

I'm not particularly convinced by the argument that "willing submission" is really just another act of will. If it is, it is only in a very limited, truncated sense, it seems to me. Take, as a more mundane example, a marriage in which a wife agrees to "submit" to her husband. In practice, this might mean that she allows him to make all of the household and lifestyle decisions (and that when she makes decisions herself, she attempts to enact what she believes is his will, rather than her own). She may relie on his benevolence and love for her to guide him to take her into account when he makes those decisions. It may be that her belief in him is justified and he does his best to do right by her. It may be that she enters the marriage freely, and it might even be that she can leave any time she wishes through divorce. But none of those things change the fact that, within the context of the relationship, she does not act according to her own will but that of her husband's. In other words, she really only has one choice to make (whether or not to submit to her partner's will), and once she has made that choice, by the very nature of that choice she relinquishes her ability to make any others. I suppose that greatly simplifies life, to have only one real choice to make, but it's not the kind of simplicity that I find all that appealing, either in my personal relationships or in my spiritual ones. It's not a model I would strive to instantiate in my life.

I also do not think that this kind of submission is the same as, or the only way to express, mutual trust. Trust is most definitely an act of will. Submission seems to me to be, by definition, the relinquishment of will. "Willing submission" is, in that case, at best a description of a single specific act in which the will itself is abdicated; at worst, it is an oxymoron that only serves to confuse the issue.

But now I'm afraid I've hijacked your comment thread for my own musings! :) Thank you, as usual, for providing so much food for thought.

I have many more thoughts on this and will probably be adding another blog post here as a follow-up. In particular, I'm still very much grappling with the issue of discernment and the theological/spiritual concept of attending (in the sense of (a) deep listening, (b) full presence, (c) service -- all of which are practices which stretch and challenge the self to both transcend and deepen).

I think I am in some respects in a "dark night of the soul." But it is a dark night full of the sound of crickets. I am finding it difficult to listen not because I do not hear anything, but because the deeper I try to listen, the louder the cacophony seems to be, so that discerning some sense or meaning in it has become a challenge. This suggests to me that maybe there is an imbalance in the different ways that I approach the spiritual work of attending -- but that is a question for another blog post.

Salmon Stewardship and Thoughts on Spiritual Practice

Today was our final day of Salmon Stewarding, and our last official program for the Seattle Volunteer Naturalists for this year.

Carkeek was gray, misty and quiet today. Here and there, some carcasses are still rotting along the streambanks. Very few people were out in the park, except for some neighborhood dog-walkers and a few families with very small children earlier in the morning before lunch. Jeff and I spent a good hour or so in the wetlands in the rain, where even the crows were hushed. A male mallard perched on a branch that was half-sunk in water, his head hunched down as he tried to nap in the midst of the rain. In the creek, just above the weir right before the train tracks, a crow was pulling apart the flesh of a salmon carcass, gulping down the strips. All was very peaceful and relaxed, and even the smell of the fish was subdued, lost in the wafting scents of western red-cedar along the stream.

I am so glad we decided to volunteer. It's been a challenge to keep up with all of our required programs this year on top of the training, especially with the uncertainty of our schedules this first year in Seattle, but it was well worth it to have a commitment that forced us to show up and put the time in. I'm looking forward to the spring, when hopefully we'll have a chance to do some volunteer work with the salmon fry in the imprint pond before they're released, and signing up for stations as SVNs as well.

I have been working on incorporating more local naturalist knowledge into my spiritual practice, and I'd like to expand on that area. My column for Aontacht Magazine this coming issue is on building a relationship with keystone species in your local bioregion, and though I definitely have a working relationship with the salmon now and, arguably, the western red-cedar, I'd like to explore these (and a few others) beyond the ecological/natural history aspect and delve more into the "spiritual" side through meditation and ritual work.

I'm realizing that a great deal of my spiritual practice tends to center on direct, embodied encounters with nature -- and so the work with the salmon, for instance, has been really fulfilling for me. Sitting in my room with my eyes closed trying to imagine these sacred encounters is not something I've ever been very good at, even before I became a Pagan. Which is maybe why there's something to be said for rituals that bring you out into the natural world and expose you to the elements (quite literally). All of my most moving memories of Pagan spiritual practice have involved direct encounters of this kind -- especially those performed in bad weather, when I showed up despite rain or snow to kneel in the dirt and place my hands against the earth and light a candle in the darkness. I think maybe that's why my relationship with Artemis has been so strong these last few months. I can feel her presence when I'm out in the woods, with very little effort on my part to visualize and imagine and pray to evoke her presence on my own. I saw that Carl had shared a quote on Twitter today, something along the lines of, "Contemplative prayer is not something you achieve, it is a gift that you receive, given to you in silence, and you need only learn how to accept it." I think for me, this was why I struggled in my relationship with Brigid for a while, because my work with her was always so effortful, something I was working and striving at. It's just not my habit to pray to gods in order to remind myself they're around -- I'm much better at remembering to simply accept the gift of their presence when they make themselves known in my life.

Still, there's something to be said for effortful work, and that's the thing about ritual in bad weather and the commitment to show up to the work. Personally, I tend to think this has very little to do with competence, as Phaedra and others seem to emphasize. I'm not sure I could be much more competent at lighting candles or repeating simple prayers, and the more complicated the ritual (the more demanding of skill and practice an act is because of its many difficult parts), the more I find it to be a distraction rather than an aid in helping me make that connection. Instead, for me, showing up and doing the work has much more to do with commitment -- devotion or loyalty in a sense -- and creating through that commitment the opportunity for grace. That sounds very Christian, maybe, but by grace I just mean blessed synchronicity, the way sacred presence slips into a moment and draws your attention to a larger circle of life that you're a part of. I find it hard to imagine that this has much to do at all with how well I light candles or repeat memorized prayers, and almost everything to do with whether or not I just show up. For me, at least, it seems like putting too great an emphasis on competence becomes an excuse -- once I am meditating competently, it's easy to excuse a missed day or justify why there are so many other things in my life that require attention and practice, so many other skills I need to work at cultivating. Not to downplay the challenge of leading and performing moving and meaningful group rituals, but when it comes to my personal practice, I'd have to be pretty drunk or otherwise incapacitated not to be able to do it competently. It's just not that kind of practice.

But days like today remind me that it's not about how well I do something, but how open I am to what I can experience and learn. It was deeply satisfying and soul-nourishing to be in the woods and the wetlands today, spending time in the silence listening to the sound of rain falling through the mist. I've spent almost a year now studying the ecology of the Pacific Northwest and learning how to effectively engage others and teach them about natural history. But I've also learned that there's a reason we teach out in nature, out among the trees -- because no amount of knowledge or skill on my part will ever be able to recreate the experience of being present to the natural world. No books or lectures of slideshows can evoke that power. So as a naturalist guide and interpreter, my job is to be an excuse for people to slow down and listen and open themselves up to the presence that is already there anyway. Today, Jeff and I stopped and watched the ducks... perfectly ordinary, common ducks that you might see anywhere in the country. What made the experience meaningful and special for us was now our knowledge or skill as naturalists, but our willingness to slow down and listen. We are naturalists because we value this presence of the sacred in nature... not the other way around.