Nature Worship, Polytheism and the "Point" of Paganism

Sophia shared a link to Stifyn Emrys's post, "There's Far More to Paganism Than Worshipping Gods and Goddesses," in which Emrys responds to that post by P. Sufenas Virius Lupus on "bringing back the gods" that I linked to the other day but haven't had a chance to go back and read. If Emrys is being fair in his characterization of the main thrust of Lupus's argument, then I'm actually a bit concerned. I used to think of Lupus as a thoughtful, respectful writer — one of those reconstructionist polytheists (in company with folks like Erynn Rowan Laurie and some others) who can be intelligent and nuanced in their own theology and practice without feeling the need to tear down others or erect straw men to legitimize their own views.

Emrys's main point is that Paganism is (and I would add, always has been) much more complex than worship of "the old gods." This is so obvious, and to claim otherwise would be so contrary to historical fact — and we're talking recent history, here — that I find it disconcerting that someone like Lupus who supposedly takes his history very seriously could make a claim to the contrary. It seems that the claim that modern Paganism's "point" is to "bring back the gods" is a fabrication almost on par with the claim that it represents an unbroken lineage of the ancient Matriarchy, or that the Burning Times killed millions of women who were secretly priestesses of the Goddess. It just simply isn't true that this is the "point" of Paganism, and no serious scholar of modern Paganism as a New Religious Movement would ever make such a claim. Hell, my thesis on the influences of modern Paganism's development over the past fifty years — which I wrote not even ten years ago — examined polytheism as only one of many different theological strands, and not even the most influential one. Back when I was doing this research, there wasn't even such a thing as "hard polytheism" in the popular mindset of the average self-identifying Pagan. If anyone had tried to make the claim that modern Paganism's "point" was polytheism, you could easily have pointed to several different statistical studies and surveys of the actual beliefs and practices of people calling themselves Pagan/Neopagan that clearly showed this just wasn't the case.

In fact, the most recent general survey of Pagan practice and belief that came out in June 2012 (barely six motnhs ago) shows that more than 87% of self-identifying Pagans said "reverence for nature" was the most important element of Paganism, whereas only 10% chose "worship of the gods." And even though 56% of the Pagans surveyed identified as polytheist, when asked if worship of the gods was a fundamental aspect of Paganism, less than half of them said yes. Now I don't think this particular survey was necessarily all that scientific or carefully controlled.... but those numbers certainly seem to confirm my own impression of the breakdown.

So what the hell is Lupus talking about? I need to go back and actually read his post for myself. It might be that Emrys is exaggerating Lupus's claims (though from the brief skim I did the other day, I don't think he is).

What's the "point"?

Lupus opens by stating outright:

I feel the need to state once again that one of the "points" of modern Paganism is to bring back the gods. [...] their reality as actual beings with independence, volition, and power was disregarded, downplayed, or demonized in many cases.

So he does say "one of the 'points' of modern Paganism," and not the point... and he also puts the word "point" in scare quotes, though I'm not sure exactly what he's trying to communicate by doing that. I get nervous when I see a lot of furry writing, with scare quotes scattered throughout a text when it's not obvious that the person is either quoting someone else or trying to be deliberately ironic/sarcastic. I'm not sure how a "point" differs from a point.

He goes on:

What I am noticing more and more recently, however, is that modern Paganism is being purposefully defined so as to not include the gods. In recent weeks alone: Jonathan Korman has defined "the pagan sensibility" as not necessarily needing to include the gods; John Halstead has discussed the four centers of modern Paganism, but has portrayed the deity-centric forms of Paganism as inherently creedal; and here at Patheos' Pagan Portal, Yvonne Aburrow has defined "theology" as "reasoning about the Divine" rather than "reasoning about the gods," which is not remotely the same thing (on which more will be said in a moment). [emphasis added]

I've already noted why I think his qualms with Aburrow's definition of theology are somewhat silly ("biology is the study of life" vs. "biology is the study of lives), but I'll be interested to see what more he has to say on this. As for Korman's and Halstead's posts, I've read both of them, and they are both clearly working towards a definition of Paganism that is inclusive and nuanced, rather than a single, monolithic statement about a community that is inherently diverse and complex. Considering that all evidence suggests that not all Pagans see (hard) polytheism as essential to the community-identity of modern Paganism, I would say that the attempts of these two to come up with a description of the community is more accurate than Lupus's so far. Even Lupus seems to be contradicting himself — didn't he just say polytheism was only one of the "points"? It might have seemed at first that he was saying there are multiple aspects of Paganism that modern Pagans share more or less in common — and that holding to any or several of these aspects might be enough to identify oneself as Pagan. But now it seems pretty obvious that what he's actually saying is that "worship of the gods" is necessary but not sufficient to being Pagan. Most people who call themselves Pagan would disagree with him on this.

He says:

For a long time now, I've been hearing modern Paganism characterized as a "nature religion" or an "earth-based religion." [...] I suspect a huge reason that it is characterized that way—especially to non-Pagans—is because of fear of being thought foolish or "primitive" for recognizing the gods. [emphasis added]

What? No.

Considering the amount of shaming "tree-huggers" and "dirt-worshippers" receive from mainstream society for being foolish, sentimental, overly-romantic, and yes, "primitive" and "anti-progress" and even "anti-human".... I find it hard to believe that Pagans are just lying to everyone about their reverence for nature because it's easier than admitting you're a polytheist. That has certainly never been the case in my experience.

Lupus then recounts an incident when he was at a university in Ireland (attending as a student? he doesn't say), when he requested the use of the campus chapel for an important ritual. The chaplaincy council rejected his request, recommending that he hold the ritual outside because that would be "more appropriate." Lupus points out that not only would this be inappropriate because of the weather of late autumn, but that there were no examples of outdoor rituals in the history of the tradition he was reconstructing, but many examples of indoor temples and ritual spaces. He concludes:

Unfortunately, my preferences and information in this regard were considered irrelevant, because the chaplaincy council knew what was best and most appropriate for "my sort" of people. [original emphasis]

This sounds like a story of obvious prejudice and disrespect, but I'm not sure what it has to do with whether or not Pagans in general should or shouldn't be "earth-centered." I have attended several indoor group rituals hosted by Pagan or Druid groups that were explicitly "earth-centered," either because outdoor space was not available or because weather made outdoor ritual impractical. Lupus seems to be making the argument that because he encountered mainstream ignorance which hindered his religious freedom, that therefore somehow earth-centered Pagans are to blame. He says:

This is one instance in which public perception of modern Pagan identity and religiosity interfered with actual practice. The idea of Pagans as "nature worshippers" fits in perfectly with the Christian conception (and, as in my case, misconception) of ancient polytheists as unsophisticated bumpkins with no place in civilized society, and therefore no business doing their rituals indoors.

Here, he identifies the view of Pagans as "unsophisticated bumpkins with no place in civilized society" as a "misconception" when it's applied to him, but seems to be suggesting that he thinks it's a perfectly reasonable view of others who self-identify as "nature worshippers." Rather than arguing against such a prejudiced view as fundamentally ignorant no matter who it's applied to, he seems primarily upset that it was applied to him when it shouldn't have been.

I should point out that, just as I've attended indoor rituals during cold weather, I have also attended outdoor rituals (usually private or small group rituals) despite the weather being somewhat unpleasant. I also spent five or six hours this past weekend hiking around in near-freezing temperatures. I do not think that my willingness to go outside in various kinds of weather, or my ability to appreciate and celebrate the natural world in all kinds of conditions, makes me an "unsophisticated bumpkin." Nimue recently pointed out in a blog post, in fact, that our ability to go out in bad weather and then come back in and get dry and warm again is a mark of our civilized lifestyle — and I am not particularly inclined to balk at a civilized lifestyle that let's me go out to experience the outdoors in all sorts of conditions without risking life and limb. Huzzah for hiking boots and warm coats.

Moving on...

As Star Foster said many months back, polytheism is one of the few things that modern Paganism can be said to "own" almost exclusively; but, for too many, it seems like the funny old lamp inherited from our great-grandparents that we hide in the basement when the guests come over.

There go the scare quotes again. Maybe talking about Pagans "owning" polytheism makes it seem less ridiculous than actually staking your entire argument on the immature sense of ownership (sans scare quotes). The idea that certain groups can own (or "own") particular philosophical or theological concepts is itself deeply problematic. But instead of talking about that, let's just get snippy and sarcastic in the next paragraph...

Lupus then goes on to argue semantics, but at least he admits it. Turns out, he has nothing more intelligent to say about language usage than before, other than falling into the usual trap of thinking that some foreign term that he read in a book is therefore inherently more complex than a familiar English word:

As I've indicated already, polytheists are not monotheists, but, I would argue, neither are they monists. This is why I no longer use the phrase "the Divine" in talking about modern Paganism or polytheism. This may be more a question of semantics in many people's minds, and if that's the case that's fine. Still, the phrase "the Divine" does not, for me, describe the reality of the gods as I have come to know them, nor does it usefully and accurately translate the element theos in a term like "theology." Ancient Greek used theos as singular and plural (both "god" and "gods"), as masculine and feminine (both "god/s" and "goddess/es"), and as a noun or as an adjective (both "god" and "godly"), so one can choose whatever option fits the purpose when using this term.

For fun, let's look up the etymology of the word "divine":

From Latin divinus "of a god," from divus "a god," related to deus "god, deity" (see Zeus), from Greek, from PIE *dewos- "god" (cf. Latin deus "god," Old Persian daiva- "demon, evil god," Old Church Slavonic deivai, Sanskrit deva-), from root *dyeu- "to gleam, to shine;" also the root of words for "sky" and "day"

Oh noooooosss! It looks like the modern English word "divine" traces back to the ancient Greek! ::headdesk::

Anyway, then Lupus spends some time talking somewhat confusedly about how theos implies a complexity of language that is unique to polytheism, and is not reflected in monotheism or monism. So far as I can understand what he's trying to say, he is simply wrong about this because he is unfamiliar with the many different theological approaches to monotheism. As a great example, he ends this particular ramble by gleefully dangling the tantalizing possibility that polytheism might even be able to conceive of the gods as "verbs" — which means that he must at least be completely unfamiliar with the book God is a Verb, by David Cooper, which explores that very concept in a monotheistic context. ::headdesk again::

He continues:

Pagan or polytheist practice that emphasizes cultus presupposes a definite being with volition and consciousness on the other end of the interaction. (Cultus, for the present purpose, is active and deliberate interaction with divine beings.) Thus, when I hear Pagans being described or self-defining as "nature worshippers," I wonder how interaction can take place at all. "Nature" doesn't care if you make offerings, hold festivals, or sing its praises and dance and feast with your friends. Dancing at Lughnasadh will not avert global warming; singing a hymn won't stop an earthquake; pouring a libation won't prevent it from raining. The best way to "honor" nature is to do things like recycle, not drive, reduce one's carbon footprint, and so forth. [emphasis added]

Again, what?

Lupus "wonders how interaction [with nature] can take place at all" but then ends his paragraph by listing ways that we interact with nature. What's going on here is an obvious (maybe even deliberate?) confusion about the purpose of ritual. Lupus claims that he defines cultus as "active and deliberate interaction with divine beings" who are "definite being[s] with volition and consciousness." But his examples of what he actually considers "cultus" all include rituals in which people exert control over these divine beings — making offerings, singing hymns or dancing in order to exert influence over the gods. Arguably, if this is how he defines the purpose of ritual, then the evidence that he is interacting with "definite beings with volition and consciousness" is just as scanty as those people pouring libations to the earth itself. At least when I pour a libation to a tree, I know that the physical water will actually make a difference to that tree. Burning incense in order to please Zeus, on the other hand?

But the more important point is that not all ritual is propitiatory in nature. In fact, ritual is complex (I really can't believe I have to keep saying this). Sometimes ritual is celebratory, and celebratory ritual is still a way of interacting with the gods, or nature, or even the other people involved in the ritual. Do you take someone out to dinner because you want to get in their pants? Or do you enjoy the act of having dinner with them? And if they don't let you get in their pants, do you conclude that they "don't care" about having dinner with you, or that they might not even be real beings with volition and consciousness?

Lupus's argument here is either a deliberate straw man, or a profound ignorance about the nature and purpose of ritual in different contexts. It may also involve a deeply ingrained prejudice against seeing things other than humans as alive, conscious or possessing self-determination. It's taken scientists a while, but at least now, finally, it is an agreed-upon scientific fact that other animals most definitely are "beings with volition and consciousness." Ecologists acknowledge that even inanimate things (like rock formations, river systems, or chemical compounds) can participate in what are self-organizing, self-sustaining living systems. If it's not too big a leap of faith to believe that Zeus gives a shit about whether or not you burn incense, it shouldn't be so big a leap to believe that self-organizing, self-sustaining living systems in the natural world (of which we are a part) do have some stake in how we interact with them, both through ritual and through everyday life.

Lupus ends his post by repeating many of his previous points, and likewise repeating many of his earlier inaccurate assumptions and logical missteps, so there's not much point in going on with this step-by-step analysis. His main concern seems to be that "nature worship" in the modern sense is, well, modern, and should therefore be avoided because (to paraphrase) "our ancestors didn't do it." It's unclear if he actually thinks anyone really worships nature at all, since throughout his piece he accuses self-identifying "nature worshippers" as calling themselves that merely to hide the fact that they're polytheists. (This sounds to me a lot like monotheists who want to insist that self-describing polytheists are "really just confused monotheists.") His straw men are ridiculous enough that it wouldn't surprise me if he has trouble finding anyone who would agree with his characterization of nature worship. His last paragraph is pretty heavy-handed with "should"-loaded language, while lamenting that so few of our Pagan leaders and luminaries have seen the light and agree with him about the need to emphasize polytheism.

In general, it's mostly an oddly whiney and misinformed piece — at once trying to claim the authority to speak for the majority while complaining that the majority is too ignorant or foolish to agree with him. Safe to say, this is not a very good rhetorical approach to use in trying to win people over. But it might be very effective in preaching to the trollish choir.

PAGANS..... IN..... SPACE...

Someone on G+ this morning shared a link to this post on "Bringing Back the Gods," with the comment that if Pagans are "nature worshippers" that see the gods merely as extensions of natural forces, then when humans begin to travel extensively in space we'll have to leave our gods behind.

(a) I had no idea that there weren't any natural forces in space! I guess the astrophysicists are all going to have to get new jobs. ::headdesk::

(b) Contrary to what this commenter and another (who responded to him in agreement) seem to suggest, "culture" is not necessarily any more portable than "nature." Culture is not a purely human phenomenon but arises from our relationship with place, and it is to a certain extent inseparable from our sense of place. When our place in the world or the universe changes, our culture changes and adapts accordingly. Whether we want to admit it or not, traveling in space extensively is going to fundamentally change how we live as human beings and what our relationship with the universe is; it should be no surprise, then, that this would have an effect on our relationship with the gods. We may even feel a sense of exile or diaspora that far surpasses any experience of an immigrant who has moved from the homeland of their ancestors to a new country or continent.... And understanding the gods as aspects of nature (or at least as having natural aspects) may help us articulate and grapple with that reality far more than a simple insistence that if we can bring our portable cultural trappings with us, then everything must be the same.

This idea needs more unpacking. I'll have the chance to do that later this month, since we're doing an FF&C episode on "nature-centered spirituality in space," thanks to an awesome prompt from Finn:

Space! That is, can earth-centered spirituality transform into cosmos-centered spirituality? Also, what new myths will emerge now that we're even closer to finding similar Earth-like planets (I mean, think of all the stories we've told that take place in space since we landed on the moon)? And if you want more weird news, there's always crazy stuff happening in astrophysics and cosmology.

These are all really good questions, that deserve more thoughtful answers than "nature is, like, rain and shit, and humans are entirely separate and separable from it, right?"

Notes for following up:

• Several directions we could take this, some of which would require simply too much prep for an hour-long episode, but could provide some good jumping off places...
• Begin the discussion by looking at the effects on religion and culture more broadly of diasporic and nomadic communities here on this planet.
• What do we know of the effects on religion/culture of places that were largely insular until brought into contact with the rest of the world? (I'm thinking probably mostly of isolated tribal groups, but also Japan could be an example of this...)
• Look at the spirituality of the desert — what impact will the vast apparent emptiness of space have on the human psyche and our perception of the gods? Our relationship with "nothingness" and "emptiness" are themselves relationships with aspects of nature.

A few years ago, I got Jeff that book on "desert spirituality" because the desert has always been such a powerful place for him, so maybe I can get him to revisit that. Meanwhile, I might be able to look into the topic of diasporic/nomadic cultures a bit more. I've already started collecting resources on "religion in science fiction," since many sci-fi stories (whether books, TV or film) involve religious aspects, some of them even polytheistic. So looking at that subject might also help us think about how religion might be "out there," or at least think about how we think about it.

Mini-Subpost on Collective Nouns

I haven't read the P. Sufenas Virius Lupus post the G+er linked to, but I did skim the first page or so fairly quickly and it seems to be brimming with some weird oversimplifications (including the conclusion that those of us who are "nature-centered" Pagans are just trying to hide our polytheism because we're embarrassed by it.... wtf?). But one bit I did notice was his complaint about someone referring to theology as "reasoning about the Divine" instead of "reasoning about the gods."

I use terms like Divine and Spirit and Numinous, sometimes capitalized and sometimes not, often enough that I feel like I can at least address this issue. (Jeff probably has more expertise on this than I do, but these are my thoughts.)

It's perfectly possible to use a singular collective noun to refer to a collection of individuals.

See, for example:

"I love chickens."
vs.
"I love chicken."
vs.
"Scientists believe the chicken evolved from dinosaurs, coming before the egg."


Let's be clear here: The reasoning that "Christians have stolen everything but our polytheism; polytheism is now the only thing that makes us different, and therefore it defines us" is not a good reason to be a polytheist. There are lots of good reasons to be a polytheist (especially if you don't feel the need to let everyone know how "hard" your polytheism is — that's becoming as distasteful to me as the guy who's always going around asking people to feel how ripped his abs are — ew, no thanks). But I digress.

There are lots of good reasons to be polytheist. But that isn't one of them. That is a crappy, immature reason.

My Perspective on "Pagan" - As Told Using the Metaphor of Apartments I've Rented

Alison is procrastinating. Enjoy the ride.....

How It Began

The first apartment I ever rented was the first floor of a three-story house, and I shared it with my then-boyfriend. We never really had any furniture except random pieces we'd inherited from our respective parental units and other odds and ends that we'd salvaged from street corners. The place was spacious and cheap, but we never had enough "real" furniture to fill it up, so it always felt oddly put together. It was easy to keep warm because it was wedged between a basement and the upper stories, both of which had thermostats controlled by the landlords, who lived above us. So, lots of room, cheap and easy to keep liveable.

But there were problems. The people who lived above us (yep, the landlords) were incredibly noisy at all unreasonable hours of the day and night. They didn't bother to fix things in our apartment when they went wrong — like the bedroom window, that was cracked when we moved in and was never replaced — but any temporary fixes to those problems caused huge issues — like me putting duct tape over the cracked window and then hanging a thick blanket up instead of a curtain. Boy did they bitch about that. Also, the basement flooded all the time, and the toilets tended to clog and back up. Eventually, too, the boyfriend and I broke up, and then it was just miserable, because he moved out and I had even less furniture and I spent about six months sleeping on a mattress on the floor, curled up watching hours of X-Files reruns at 3 AM on a tiny 13-inch TV (and this was before HD-TV and LCD flatscreens, people). I eventually came to hate it there, and the landlords didn't like me very much either. Even though it could have been a nice place — it had the space, and everything in it was new, carpets, paint-job, kitchen appliances — underneath is was all falling apart, and the fact that nobody wanted to talk about it or try to fix it, and they always had a problem when I tried to patch things up with my limited resources, just made it worse.

In this story, this apartment represents my relationship with Christianity.

Adorably Retro

Because I couldn't afford to stay in that place once the boyfriend moved out and stopped paying rent, I moved into my own place when the lease was up. This new place had been described as "adorably retro" by the rental agency, but I never figured out why. It had real hardwood floors that must have been about fifty years old, banged up and scratched and splintering, and its walls were covered in some sort of weird stucco plaster. But beneath the plaster was good, solid brick. I got permission to paint, and so the living room ended up being a refreshing ice blue, and the single bedroom was a deep, relaxing lavender. It had a balcony that looked out over a small gravel lot lined with trees, past which you could see the neighbors' gardens. In the hall, there was a little nook that used to house an old-fashioned telephone — I used it as a place to set up my main altar/shrine. Although I kept some of the old furniture that I'd inherited, I also got new furniture — and though it was mostly inexpensive, I got a few nice, solid items meant to last, and I picked them out carefully so that each room had a cohesive feeling, a kind of aesthetic wholeness to it. I spent some years in this apartment working as a waitress, swinging midnight shifts and feeling desperately lonely, but no matter how lonely I got, I still felt like I was home. And that meant something. The world, especially the natural world, would not abandon me.

In this story, this apartment represents my finding a home in Druidry, and wandering in the wilderness of this new spirituality, making it my own.

Townhouse Posturing

I met Jeff while I was still living in this "retro" apartment, and he did the unimaginable and moved to Pittsburgh. In part it was to be with me, but it also happened that his ex-wife's new fiancé had family in Pittsburgh and they were looking for a cheaper city to live in. (Although his ex-wife tried to dispute it in court, we have the documented email evidence to prove that she actually bought a house in Pittsburgh before Jeff ever even started looking for apartments; so it's not like Jeff abandoned his children in order to go live with his mistress.) When Jeff decided to move to Pittsburgh, I helped him find a place.

This apartment was what we could arguably call a "townhouse." It was two-stories and was one of two townhouses that made up a single building on a block of similar structures. Jeff needed a place big enough for the kids to visit every weekend, so it was a three-bedroom place, even though most of the week it was basically empty. This townhouse tried too hard to be a "house." It aspired to all kinds of legitimacy. It had carpeting, and a yard, and what could pass for a front porch. It had two whole bathrooms, and a real kitchen instead of a closet-sized space with a fridge and mini-stove shoved into it. It even had a fireplace.

I continued to officially live in my own "retro" apartment for a year after Jeff moved to Pittsburgh, but I spent more and more of my time at the townhouse. Eventually, most of my clothes and day-to-day stuff ended up over there. But Jeff, having been through a divorce where his ex-wife took everything except the debt she'd wracked up on their joint account, didn't really have any real furniture except for a few old pieces that were too crappy for the EW to have wanted. All of our money went into making the place liveable for the kids — we got bunk-beds and we doubled up on toys and clothing because the EW was pretty awful at getting them to pack anything for the weekend. I felt tremendous pressure to suddenly "play mom" and prove that I was "mature" enough to "handle kids" and all of the adult responsibilities that I quickly discovered the EW was fond of passing off onto other people because she herself was not very good at handling them.

My life, like the townhouse, aspired for a while to be "respectable" and "serious" and "mature" — but I only ever really half lived there, and it always seemed to be other people's ideas of respectability and maturity that did the dictating. Unlike my little "retro" apartment, which seemed to have no pretensions at all. My retro apartment had incredibly old, scratched up wood floors, but at least they were real wood. The townhouse had carpets like a "real house," but they were old, shitty carpets with random ugly stains from previous occupants and they never seemed to get clean despite Jeff's motorcycle-like vacuum. My retro apartment may have had wires randomly sticking out of the walls here and there, but all the wiring worked. It may have only had a gravel lot for the backyard, but beyond that you could see trees and gardens and even the park. At the townhouse, the front yard wasn't really a yard, so much as a cliff, but it still required mowing. The backyard wasn't a yard so much as a weed-bed, but we did our best to plant some flowers and a vegetable garden and try to beat back the tangle. It was a lot of work, and not much pay-off. This seemed to be the way with a lot of things — lots of things that seemed like good ideas, but ended up being difficult or awkward in practice. A door that led out onto the roof from the second-story seemed like a good idea because the roof could be almost like a balcony.... Except that the door didn't open unless you pulled up the cheap carpeting in the corner, and the roof sagged a bit so that it seemed to be possibly dangerous to be up there for any length of time. There was an oddly shaped nook that seemed like it could be a good place for a "library" — a nice idea, except that none of our bookshelves seemed to fit the space properly, they were either too big or too small, and the room was always freezing cold and uncomfortable to sit in. (This was generally true — the place was impossible to heat. My old retro apartment had been super-warm and cozy in the winter, and the heating was included in the rent, but the townhouse had thin plaster walls and leaky windows that never seemed to hold in any heat at all and our heating bills were huge. Also, none of its windows seemed to let in any light even on the sunniest days.) The fireplace, which seemed like such a cute, good idea, didn't work. But it somehow remained stubbornly sooty anyway even after we repainted it, and all the furniture in the living room ended up being awkwardly arranged around this sooty, cold and dead fireplace in which no hearthfire would ever burn.

In this story, this townhouse is like the reconstructionist/hard polytheistic approach.

Interestingly, my time struggling with hard polytheism coincided with this time in my life, when I was kind of half-living in a place built and furnished by and for other people, which aspired to be "respectable" and "real," but wasn't. It tried to hide how old it was while aping (poorly) the comforts of stability (epitomized, in my mind, by the absolutely shitty wall-to-wall carpeting). In the same way, my time struggling with hard polytheism always seemed to be full of other people's opinions and expectations; it seemed impossible to relax and ground in my own relationship with Spirit and with the natural world. Even though I might have been lonely and "irresponsible" living alone in my retro apartment and working as a waitress, I was home. Even though modern Revival Druidry was a bit new-agey and a bit meso-pagan and some of its wiring showed, it still worked and it had warm, sturdy walls.

Smoke Tree Condo

Then, Jeff's job moved us across the country to Seattle, and we found a small, affordable place. It's bigger than my old "retro" apartment, but it's not nearly as big as the townhouse. We have neighbors, and although we rent, many of our neighbors are permanent residents and meet quarterly as members of the condo's management team. We get so much sunlight, especially in the summer, but even in the winter on the rainiest of days, the rooms are well-lit and pleasant. We donated almost all of our old furniture except a few select pieces, and used a bit of savings to buy a few new pieces, so once again, each room feels like a real room, with its own sense of space and style. Our kitchen is smaller than the townhouse kitchen, but has so much counter space that it's perhaps the first truly functional kitchen I've ever had. We have an entire wall of bookcases in our living room, and two more bookcases in the den. All of our sofas fold out, so we have plenty of room for when the kids visit, but the rooms don't sit empty and non-functional wastes of space when they're not around. We have lots of closet space (so much, that we're able to temporarily convert our one walk-in closet into a recording studio on podcasting nights).

There are only a few draw-backs. There's no porch or balcony, nowhere private to sit outside and enjoy the weather. The floors are "wood-like" linoleum... which is a huge improvement over crappy carpeting, but still not as good as real wood. And it's the first apartment I've had that isn't within a block of a wooded park. It's so close to being a perfect fit, and it has many of the best things that I loved about my old "retro" apartment while also having some really nice things that that apartment didn't have (like counter-space and new, energy-efficient appliances and windows). It's the perfect size for us, and I feel very happy here. But I already know that I won't be here forever, and one of the main reasons I know it is because it's too far from green space — "nature" is a thing I have to go out of my way to get to, and even though that's resulted in me volunteering with the parks and learning all sorts of stuff about ecology and natural history, it's not the kind of intimate, immediate relationship that I enjoyed in my old, run-down "retro" apartment.

In this story, our current apartment is like my current spiritual path. It is so close to being perfect, and there are lots of things about it that I love. I feel at home, but I also know that I will eventually need to move on. The biggest reason I know I'll need to move on is because, right now, my relationship with "nature" is somewhat distanced and intellectual, and in this way it parallels my work as a volunteer naturalist and how that's different from being a poet wandering in the wilderness. Eventually, I want to be the poetic ecosophist, the wise sage who can wander in the wilderness and also teach practical, useful wisdom to those who come to seek her out; who has both an intellectual understanding of her gods and their theology, and an intimate and ecstatic relationship with them in way that allows both perspectives to enhance each other.

For now, I finally feel like I can start grounding in my own path again. I have a happy, truly stable place to call home that gives me the time and support I need to prepare for that next step, and I know that the next step means lingering for a little while in this place with "nature" is a little more distant. I also know that, wherever I end up, it's not going to be the metaphorical "respectable single-family suburban house with white picket fence" that the townhouse, in this metaphor, was trying so hard to pretend to be. It's not going to be the respectable, structured, organized religion that reconstructionism/hard polytheism tries so hard to be. I have a better sense of what works for me and what doesn't, and I no longer feel pressured to apologize for not wanting that kind of life, or that kind of religion. So now it's a matter of figuring out what kind of spiritual (and physical) space I do want to live in, and spend some time daydreaming, saving for and working towards my dream-home.

The Moral of The Story

All of these places, despite their differences, were still apartments.

All of these paths, despite their differences, are still Paganism.

(Except, of course, for the first example of Christianity.)

(Damn it.)

(Shut up.)

If you're not Pagan anymore... why won't you go away?

I don't have a problem with people not calling themselves Pagan. I have a problem with those people telling me that it's because "Pagan" means being culturally appropriative, theologically sloppy and intellectually lazy.

If you can't have respect for the complexity and subtlety of my self-identity, why do you expect me to have respect for yours?

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.

This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things

I should note the meditative work I've been doing on "natural polytheism" recently, as well as the equinox ritual we attended this past weekend, not to mention my on-going work on the podcast and the work I'm doing as a volunteer naturalist (our training is almost over!).... but instead, I'm going to take a second to Rage in a quiet way.

Last week, Ian Corrigan wrote an interesting post about the use of the word "unsacred" in the title of the blog, No Unsacred Place. He trots out the fairly familiar complaint that the word "sacred" means to set aside as special, and if "everything is sacred" then nothing can be sacred.

I left a comment explaining the context of Wendell Berry's quote, and drawing attention to the very important fact that, first, Berry is speaking poetically (since "unsacred" is not even a proper word, that should have been a pretty obvious hint), and second, Berry is very specifically trying to call our attention to our relationship with the places we create through the act of "setting them aside." Berry is using the word "unsacred" in a very particular way, in order to challenge us to think about how we engage with the very notion of "sacred."

Jeff and I explored this idea, as well as the contrast between the concept of "space" and "place" (which Berry also plays with in his poem), in our most recent podcast episode, which I'm about to finish editing and posting. In fact, I'm working on the show notes, which is how I ended up back at Ian's post snagging the URL to include in our list of links....

When I see that Michael York (academic and author of that book, Pagan Theology) has left a comment on Ian's post since the last time I was there, in which he praises Ian's essay and says he agrees with a previous commenter whose entire comment consisted of a single sentence: "Thank the Gods for people who care what words mean!"

York left his comment after I left mine. There is absolutely no acknowledgement from York (or from Ian) that either of them even understand the more subtle point that Berry is trying to make, or the value of considering the context of the original quote. There is no acknowledgement that my comment has helped to contribute to the conversation. Instead, to be perfectly honest, York's follow-up remark seems very much like an intentional kind of "silent treatment." He refers specifically to a previous commenter's remark, which means he did bother to read the comments that other readers had left before him. My comment was substantive, relevant and brought valuable new information to the conversation in order to expand the focus beyond prescriptivist nit-picking about the technical, literal, dictionary-definition of words. Quite honestly, in this case, "caring what words mean" obviously has to include an understanding and appreciation of the context and use of words (especially words invented by the poet specifically for the purpose of challenging our usual, easy assumptions about how we use those words).

And yet, my comment receives absolutely no response. Ian acknowledges it just barely enough to give his permission for me to re-publish his post over on No Unsacred Place, but beyond that, you could practically hear crickets chirping.

Now, yes, I take this as an affront to my pride. I totally have some ego going on here.

But I think this is also part of what's wrong with the way that celebrity functions in the Pagan community. There is a certain type of Big Name Pagan — I'm not going to pull punches: they're usually white, male, middle-aged or older, and they usually pride themselves on having some kind of academic background, and unfortunately there seems to be a higher concentration of them in Druidry than in other Pagan traditions — who responds to criticism or challenge from others (especially if they are young and female) with silence, at best. Nobody would even know I'd been there. I doubt that either Ian or York will ever refer back to my comment as relevant, interesting or helpful, even if at some later point they decide to re-evaluate their ideas or even come to agree with me.

The fact is: Ian was mistaken. He didn't bother to find out what the context of the original quote was or to think about it any more deeply than the assumption that if someone was using a word (or intentionally invented a word) in a way that bothered him, it must be because they were using it incorrectly. I pointed that out to him (in a way that was respectful and enthusiastic to share some of the more interesting implications of the quote), but the simple reality is that I am young and female and knew full well what I was doing when I chose that title for the PNC nature blog (we even had a conversation about it among the staff before settling on it). All of that meant that there was no way for him to maintain his position of being the One Who Knew More — not only did he not know the context of the original quote, but he didn't know that I knew it and had taken it into consideration when I made my choice.

So Ian responds with relative silence (I doubt I would have received acknowledgement at all if I hadn't asked him a direct question that he couldn't very well have afforded to ignore).

Seeing some uppity young woman being sensible about the whole thing, along comes York and decides that, on top of responding to my comment with very deliberate silence (which he calls attention to by making sure everyone knows he's read the comment thread), he's going to double down on the original, overly-simplistic approach that Ian took in his original post and praise Ian for it.

The Good Old Boy system prevails, old white men pat each other on the back and reinforce each other's prominence and expertise, the more interesting and subtle aspects of the conversation get ignored.... and a couple years from now, we'll be having this same exact conversation all over again. We never make any progress, our theology remains shallow and myopic, and we wonder why other religious traditions don't take us seriously even though we wear shiny things and fancy robes.

This is why we can't have nice things.

A Druid Wedding Ceremony

Opening Processionals

Processional of Family Blessings and Guests
(Musical Accompaniment - “Concerning Hobbits” Lord of the Rings Soundtrack, 2:50)

Led by Officiant, MoB and FoB process down the boardwalk and onto the beach at the head of the guests. MoB carries a basket of sea shells; FoB carries handfasting cord and rings. Officiant proceeds to the front to stand before the altar, accompanied by the FoB who places cord and rings on the altar. MoB stands at the top entrance to the circle, offering a shell to each guest as they enter. Siblings (plus family) of Bride and Groom bring up the rear of guest processional and take their seats nearest the front of the altar on either side. After all guests have entered the circle and been seated, MoB and FoB take their seats next to the Sibling of the Bride.

Processional of the Elements
(Musical Accompaniment - “The Black Isle/Brunswick Street,” 4:10)

Fire and Water | Together, the Fire-bearer (Savanah) and Water-bearer (Josh) process down the boardwalk and onto the beach. Upon approaching the circle, they proceed around the outer rim in a clockwise direction, the Fire-bearer holding the lantern aloft while the Water-bearer sprinkles drops of water (sparingly!) onto the sand. Upon reaching the top of the circle again, together they process down the center aisle to place Fire and Water onto the altar, then take their seats.

Air and Earth | Together, the Incense-bearer (Jerilynn) and the Flower-girl (Fiona) process down the boardwalk and onto the beach. Upon approaching the circle, they proceed around the outer rim in a clockwise direction, the Incense-bearer holding the bowl of incense aloft while the Flower-girl scatters flower petals and herbs onto the sand. Upon reaching the top of the circle again, together they process down the center aisle to place Air and Earth onto the altar, then take their seats.

Bride and Groom Processional
(Musical Accompaniment - “Inner Light/Picard Flute Solo”)

Together, the Bride and Groom process down the boardwalk and onto the beach. Upon approaching the circle, the proceed around the outer rim in a clockwise direction, pausing at each of the four directions to whisper prayers of peace and welcome to the elements. Upon reaching the top of the circle again, together they process down the center aisle to stand before the Officiant at the altar.

Welcome & Invocations

Welcoming

Officiant rings a small bell to mark that the rite has begun.

OFFICIANT:

Today, we gather together - family and friends - to celebrate the loving union of Jeff and Alison. On this threshold of Land, Sea and Sky, we welcome the blessings of the Three Realms into our lives.

I invite you all to close your eyes for a few moments and simply be present to all who are gathered here today. Feel the sands beneath your feet, firm and soft. Like the sacred oak, we sink our roots deep into the soil to seek nourishment and support. We drink deeply of the waters that flow beneath us, refreshed by the rains that fall and soak into ground. Above us, the sun’s light energizes and warms us, feeding our spirits. The breeze caresses us as it dances by, carrying the many scents and sounds of the life all around us. Here on this shore, the Three Realms mingle their voices in a single song - the Song of the World - in which the melodies of our lives are joined.

[pause]

Open your eyes.

Invocations with Offerings

OFFICIANT:

In Druidry, we honor the many relationships that shape our lives. Just as Jeff and Alison have gathered their family and friends here to witness and share in their joy today, so do they also welcome the presence of the gods, the memory of their ancestors and the spirits of the living land as members of this sacred community.

BRIDE & GROOM:

We welcome and honor the gods, you who are sources of guidance, love and inspiration. Accept this offering as a symbol of our gratitude and praise.

Bride and Groom each offer a pinch of herbs to the incense.

BRIDE & GROOM:

We welcome and honor the ancestors, you who came before us in wisdom, memory and courage. Accept this offering as a symbol of our gratitude and praise.

Bride and Groom each offer a few drops of melted butter to the fire.

BRIDE & GROOM:

We welcome and honor Mama Anu, Mother Earth, and all the beings of this land, you who dwell in air, fire, water, earth and spirit. Accept this offering as a symbol of our gratitude and praise.

Bride and Groom pour a libation of water to soak into the sands.

Readings & Reflection

A Reading

“The Ponds,” by Mary Oliver - Read by Savanah


A Meditation on Love

Personal reflections on the seasons of love by the Officiant


A Song

Adapted from “Turn the World Around,” by Harry Belafonte - Sung by Jerilynn

Commitment & Vows

The Handfasting

Fiona takes the handfasting cord from the altar and presents it to Officiant.

OFFICIANT:

Alison and Jeff, please join hands.

Officiant drapes the handfasting cord across the joined hands of Bride and Groom. With each affirmation, Officiant loops the handfasting cord (loosely) once more around the couple’s joined hands.

OFFICIANT:

The swift hawk of dawn rides the currents of Air,
sharp in wit, far-sighted and clear in her will.
The rising sun illuminates her golden wings.
Her cry is a call of freedom on the winds.

Alison and Jeff, you stand here today
to pledge yourselves in marriage and love.
Do you come to this union freely,
guided by wisdom and clarity
and the true calling of your will?

BRIDE & GROOM:

We do.

OFFICIANT:

The bright stag of noon crests the hill as a leaping red Fire,
courageous and strong beneath a high, hot sun.
Through passion, he leads the hungering soul
on a wild chase across the threshold into new worlds.

Alison and Jeff, you stand here today
to pledge yourselves in marriage and love.
Do you come to this union bravely,
strong in your passion for one another
and ready to pursue it into a new life together?

BRIDE & GROOM:

We do.

OFFICIANT:

The wise salmon of dusk lingers in deep, cool Water
close to the secret, nourishing wellspring of the heart.
Her every movement embodies gentleness and grace.
Her gifts are compassion, kindness and attention.

Alison and Jeff, you stand here today
to pledge yourselves in marriage and love.
Do you come to this union gently,
attentive to each other's deepest needs
and open to the secrets of each other's hearts?

BRIDE & GROOM:

We do.

OFFICIANT:

The great bear of midnight moves slowly over the Earth,
lumbering through lush forests beneath a star-studded sky.
Close to soil and stone, rooted in the land,
his patience and loyalty shine like jewels in the dark.

Alison and Jeff, you stand here today
to pledge yourselves in marriage and love.
Do you come to this union steadfastly,
with commitment firmly rooted
in loyalty and mutual support?

BRIDE & GROOM:

We do.

With their final statement of intent, the Officiant knots the handfasting cord.

The Vows

With hands joined together by the handfasting cord, the Bride and Groom exchange the vows of their union. (Officiant speaks vows line by line, Bride and Groom repeat each line in unison.)

OFFICIANT:

This couple stands before you today with courage and commitment, with open eyes and open hearts, to affirm their love for each other. Jeff and Alison, please repeat after me.

VOWS:

I promise you a love as steady as the Land beneath us.
I promise to share with you the bounty of good times,
and to support and comfort you in times of need.
I promise to honor the mystery of individuality within you
and to respect your independence,
as you honor and respect my own.
I will rejoice in our differences as much as in our similarities
and cherish the love that grows between us.
This I promise, by stone, by calas (CAH-lahs), by bone, and by the sacred Land.

I promise you a love as boundless as the Sea that surrounds us.
I promise to share in your simplest joys and wildest hopes,
and to buoy you up when sorrow threatens to overwhelm you.
I promise to listen with understanding and attention
to your deepest desires and your darkest fears,
as you attend to mine.
I will always return to that love and gratitude
that is the source from which our union flows.
This I promise, by water, by gwyar (GOO-yar), by blood, and by the sacred Sea.

I promise you a love as eternal as the Sky above us.
I promise to carry the light of our love with me wherever life might take us,
and to be guided by that love as a traveler is guided by the faithful stars.
I promise to encourage you in your striving,
and to challenge you when you need a challenge,
as you encourage and challenge me.
I will join my life with yours as one melody
in harmony with the Song of the World.
This I promise, by fire, by nwyfre (NOOiv-ruh), by breath, and by the sacred Sky.

I promise to love and honor you all the days of my life.
By Land, Sea and Sky, this I vow.

OFFICIANT:

Though you cannot always be physically joined in this way, your vows and the love they promise remain true. [Officiant removes the handfasting cord from the joined hands of Bride and Groom, without untying the knot.] The cord is removed, but the bond remains strong and unbroken.

Officiant places the handfasting cord back upon the altar.

Exchange of Rings

Josh takes the rings from the altar and presents them to Officiant.

OFFICIANT:

These rings are a symbol of the vows you have made today.

Officiant presents each ring to Bride and Groom to place upon the other’s finger.

GROOM:

Alison, you are my best friend, my partner in life. Accept this ring as a reminder of my love and my promise.

BRIDE:

Jeff, you are my best friend, my partner in life. Accept this ring as a reminder of my love and my promise.

Blessings & Pronouncement

Blessing by Officiant

OFFICIANT:
[Personal blessing by the officiant.]

Pronouncement

OFFICIANT:

By the power vested in me by the State of North Carolina, it gives me great pleasure to pronounce you united in marriage!

Bride and Groom kiss!

Family Blessing with Seashells

Immediately following the pronouncement and kiss, Officiant asks guests to bless their shells with all of their joy and well-wishes for the newly-wed couple. Officiant then invites all guests to leave their seats and follow Bride and Groom down to the water’s edge. Guests toss their shells into the ocean on the couple’s count of three.

Presentation

Officiant rings the bell signifying the ceremony’s end.

OFFICIANT:

I present to you, Alison and Jeff Lilly!

Recessional/Receiving Line

(Musical Accompaniment - “Saltatio Vita” Omni, 4:34 + other songs)

Annotated Notes from the Wild Goose Festival, Day 2

[This post has been backdated to the appropriate day of the festival itself, just to make future reference convenient for me and to break things up a bit.]

[We were up fairly early and had the fruit we'd packed for breakfast, before heading to the main festival area for the various talks and presentations. Walking along the path from the camping area to the main area, we ran into Carl almost immediately, who right away put us in a good mood with his cheerfulness and optimism. After exchanging a few words, Jeff and I headed over to a talk on our own, agreeing to meet up again with Carl later.]


9 AM | Christine Sine | Spirituality & Gardening

• cooks like to compete, gardeners like to share
• generosity of God ["God" - Earth?] so much that we have to share
  - perishable produce
  - reaching out to neighbors
• scarcity transformed into abundance
• the garden as a church
[this is a very familiar concept in Paganism, that nature is our "church" and we learn the lessons of the Earth as Mother and teacher; in fact, much of this talk could have been pulled straight from a Pagan festival presentation, with a few vocabulary changes]
• health and spiritual benefits of time spent outside in creation ["creation"? why not just say "nature" or "natural world" as the actual scientific research does? is "man-made" not part of creation? is indoors not as much "creation" as outdoors?]
• garden in monastic community represents Garden of Eden (apple or other fruit tree in center as Tree of Life)
• using plants to tell stories, as mnemonic device
  - the passion flower
  - the three-leaf clover
• rhythms and cycles of the garden
  - liturgical year of the church (Easter as spring time, rebirth, f'ex)
[the speaker herself was from Australia and spoke about how the story of Easter and its timing in the liturgical year never made much sense to her, living as she did in a place where in March and April everything is dying and preparing for winter - only when she moved to the northern hemisphere did the story suddenly make sense; isn't this one example of the limits of universal tradition?]
• putting down roots at the "beginning" of the liturgical year, in winter
• pruning in winter because no sap, easier to see deadwood among the bare branches and to see what needs to be pruned
  - why do we prune? to increase yield, be more fruitful/productive later on
• summer flourishing - effortless, natural, God doing the work [Earth doing the work of self-giving and natural fecundity]
• organic gardening
  - all about soil, the story of the seeds falling on rock, soil, etc. to take root (or not)
  - not enough focus on the soil in Christianity [duh! not enough focus on the Earth and earth mysteries]
  - speaker says it's "a shame that the fall harvest festivals aren't really celebrated or popular anymore" and thinks they should be brought back [Jeff comments: they're not celebrated anymore because they were stamped out for being "too pagan"]
[a lot of her language involves this idea of being a better/more productive Christian, which prompted Jeff to ask, "what does it actually mean to be a 'productive Christian'?" is this the same as being a productive or a good person, or is there some other criteria? nurturing members of the church to do what, exactly?] [another assertion the speaker makes is that there's a disconnect between what we can learn in the garden, and what Christians are often taught in church/community about who/what to focus on - this prompts me to ask, slightly ironically, why is there a disconnect between the garden and theology? does it have something to do with the story of the Fall and human beings forced to leave the garden behind? also, what is the role of wilderness and the wild natural world? interacting with the relatively safe, human-cultivated space of a garden to grow food mostly as a hobby - when you don't have to rely on it for your very life if something goes wrong - is a very different approach to nature than the one that acknowledges its power and destruction, as well as its capriciousness]
• composting - the transformative work that God does, "we're full of garbage" that God changes into "black gold" of rich soil
[after the talk, Jeff points out that compost isn't just some mysterious-magical process of transformation, but involves a million million tiny beings each on their own working to break down the "garbage" and changing it into something we can use - these beings deserve acknowledgement and respect as well, and they provide us with perspective, our "garbage" is, to them, the stuff of life - I add, what looks like decay is just another kind of life]

11 AM | Margot Starbuck | Shame-Based Advertising: Faith and Justice Transforming Women's Body Image Obsessions

[we were a bit late to this talk because we were trying to find our way around and we went back to our campsite to grab our chairs]

• marketing based on the idea that something is wrong with you - this is not true, you are loved just as you are, already
[umm - Christianity? hello? didn't we just finish hearing someone speaking about how we're "full of garbage" and in need of transformation? what is the role of salvation in Christianity, and how does this relate to this idea?]
• always apologizing for our appearance anxieties
  -> we're not being present
  -> we're still turned inward and focused on ourselves
  -> we're communicating to others what we most value not just about ourselves but about them
• "that's what bodies are for" - the idea that our body is for others, to be used in service to them [frankly, this idea makes me a bit uncomfortable, overly self-abnegating]
• humility - genuine interest in others, escaping interiority
• stop at enough
  - stewardship - when you stop at enough, whatever you have beyond enough is your gift to others, a call to stewardship
[beauty - what about art? can the body be viewed as art, as a kind of self-expression or aesthetic expression? the speaker told a story of her daughter wanting to dye her hair - is this because she didn't like herself as she was, or because she wanted to experiment with her own style? is there a message of ascetic simplicity hidden in this?] [liturgical dress and ritual dress - the speaker seemed to suggest that wearing fine clothes to worship service was mostly a conceit and/or an invitation to be judged shallowly - but this leaves me wondering what is the role of aesthetics in ritual when it comes to dress and appearance of ritual participants? this seems to reflect a generally Protestant distaste for ritual]

12 PM | Richard Rohr | Falling Upward

• Two Halves of Life
  - "What is healthy in the first half of life becomes neurosis in the second half." - Jung
• 1st Half of Life - developing ego structure [individuation?]
  - creating the "container"
  - can get stuck defending boundaries and entrenched in establishing identity
• 2nd Half of Life - "contents"
• Plotkin's terms:
  - Survival Dance
  - Sacred Dance
• Hindu four stages of life:
  - student
  - householder
  - forest dweller
  - sage
  [here we see this return to the cycles of life again as a way of expanding the Christian context]
• Rohr says you'd think that Christianity [or I guess religion in general?] would be right out in front leading this process of growth from 1st half to 2nd half of life, then asks why aren't Christian traditions out in front leading the way?
• duality - paradox
  - for Catholics - the Pascal Mystery: "Christ has died, Christ has risen, Christ will come again" is not just a statement about Jesus, but a statement about the self
• "The cleverest way to avoid following Jesus is to worship Jesus." [got lots of laughs]
• "your game must fail you" - powerlessness, weakness, otherwise you cannot move on
• necessary suffering
• grace is punishment for the ego
  - there's nothing the ego hates more than this freely given love/forgiveness, because the ego likes things balanced, tit for tat, etc.
• permission to trust the movement into the 2nd half of life
• as a speaker/teacher/writer - not saying anything new
  - the role of the writer/teacher is to forward conversation by articulating certain ideas in helpful ways
  - recognition, not cognition (the reader/student says, "oh, this is something like what I've thought before" [but hopefully is also challenged?])
  - spiritual guidance
• the story of Odysseus - the second journey after the journey home
  - walk inland carrying an oar from your ship, until you come across someone who mistakes your oar for a winnowing fan, then plant the winnowing fan in the ground, make offerings to Poseidon, and return home
  - the winnowing fan - symbol of maturity, the ability of proper discernment
• reevaluating the Survival Dance
• flesh = ego (in Acts and Paul's letters)
  - the overly-defended self
• going from Ego-Driven to Soul-Drawn
• Spiral Dynamics
  - 9 levels
  - transcend and include (-> forgiveness)

[Conversation over lunch with Carl about the discipline of writing and the difficult of networking and publicity. Had a chance to meet Mike Morrell, as well as Pete Rollins briefly.]


3 PM | Phyllis Tickle | What In This World Is Going On?

• every 500 years - a reformation / rummage sale / "hoopla" of some kind - everything changes
  (for cultures stemming from, influenced by or colonized under latinized Christianity - i.e. "First World")
  - 33(ish) AD - Jesus, Christianity out of Judaism
  - 500(ish) AD - Fall of Roman Empire
  - 1000(ish) AD - Great Schism between Catholic and Orthodox Churches
  - 1500(ish) AD - Great Reformation, birth of Protestantism
  - 2000(ish) AD - "Great Emergence"? Emergent Christianity
• no more experts - culture too saturated, too much info to process
[does knowing that we're in a recurring reformation change how we react? is this similar to the self-conscious evolution where culture comes to take the place of natural selection forces?]
• 12 distinct forms of Emergent Christianity (also, distinct from "progressive Christianity")
• very diverse, but share some common traits:
  - nonhierarchical
  - no institution or formal organization
  - concern very much with social justice
  - reject any kind of arrogance in claiming to know "what God thinks"
[these are traits that tend to be shared with the Pagan movement, though the emphasis on social justice has been subverted somewhat in recent years; and the rejection of arrogance extends to actually rejecting a monotheistic God itself, though a new arrogance is cropping up in claiming to know what the many polytheistic gods think or want from us]
• things different about the current "hoopla" going on:
  - the knowledge and historical perspective afforded means we can address this current reformation with tranquility and calm, take it in stride
  - 65+ demographic is more involved, not just young folks
  - important to realize that U.S. and Canada are late to the game, this has been going on in Europe and other places for a while
  - b/c of internet, globalization, there's no physical location where this is happening - this means we need to focus on ways of cultivating personal contact among members of the movement (we need to get together every once in a while to "smell each other")
• the key question for the reformation/emergence is: Where now is your authority? or, How now shall we live?
• changing location of authority as Christianity evolved in history
  - pope -> scripture (during Protestant reformation, introducing the idea of Protestant inerrancy)
  
• changing focus on Persons of the Trinity:
  - some Christians very comfortable with God-the-Father but not as comfortable with Jesus Christ (e.g. Catholics and mainline Protestants?)
  - some Christians all about Jesus Christ but shy away from God-the-Father aspect (e.g. Evangelicals)
  - very few Christians comfortable with the role of Holy Spirit
  - recent shift towards role of Holy Spirit and direct experience of God (e.g. Pentecostals)

[will this be reflected in where the next source of authority is located? in charismatic leadership, for instance? does this reflect somewhat the direction the general culture is headed, towards effective mass-marketing and emotionalism/sensationalism? also, what makes Phyllis Tickle think this will be "the last reformation" once Christians have "completed the Trinity" so to speak? evidence for this? naive, considering the evidence of history? would approaching this from the perspective of the cyclical nature of time change our view of things?]

• Big Questions coming up for Christians:
  - What is our theology of religion? (i.e. how do "we as Christians" interface with and live in a multicultral, multifaith world?)
  - What is the nature of atonement?
  - What is a human being?


• "Most world religions agree in their wisdom and their morality. It is in their Mysteries that they differ."


• newest discoveries in modern physics are driving this current reformation, bringing up big questions about ontology and the nature of human existence and meaning


• science and knowledge changing culture, these changes come last to religion (where we do the hard work of integrating ideas and understanding their implications)

[Conversation over dinner with Carl and his friend, Pat, who was a practicing Pagan back in the 80s (?) but now considers herself the Pagan version of "spiritual but not religious." We talked about issues of social justice and environmentalism, and the tendency for Pagans to be too insular and prone to in-fighting, rather than focusing on larger social issues. I had a chance to brag a bit about the PNC and the No Unsacred Place blog project as examples of how social media is helping Pagans build the necessary community infrastructure to expand the conversation and participate more effectively in national conversations over important issues.]


8 PM | Doug Pagitt | The Inventive Age

• institutions are cultural artifacts (including churches)
• Four Aspects of Culture:
  - thinking (head)
  - values (heart)
  - aesthetics (gut)
  - tools (hands)
• Four Ages:
  - Agrarian Age (farming)
  - Industirial Age (industrial revolution)
  - Information Age (science and technology)
  - Inventive Age (current age, creativity and innovation, social media, etc.)
• Churches in the 4 Ages have had a shifting focus:
  - Agrian Age (rural) had the "parish church", all about location
  - Industrial Age (urban) had competing "brands"/denominations
  - Information Age (suburban) all about learning, education
  - Inventive Age (global) all about creativity and meaning-making (?)
• role of books is to help further conversation that is already going on
• What Defines the Inventive Age:
  - the need to make meaning
  - the need to make beauty
[not sure how these are different from any other age, or if this is just the natural focus of any transitional period of time when everything seems to be in flux; is meaning-making and beauty-making a sustainable cultural model? what are some of the pitfalls of the Inventive Age - perhaps that mirror the pitfalls of the previous Ages - again, focus on marketing and cult of personality (in contrast to, f'ex, consumerism and capitalism getting going in the Industrial Age, or the emphasis on knowledge = power in the Information Age?)]
• Bounded Set Systems v. Center Set Systems v. Relational Set Systems
  - Bounded Set: a playground with a fence around it to keep kids inside and safe, clear lines between who's in and who's out, concern with identity markers and community boundaries
  - Center Set: playground with really interesting, fun stuff in the center, no boundaries or fuzzy boundaries, the "main attraction" in the center gathers interested participants, who are free to come and go as they choose
  - Relational Set: no playground, each kid brings their own toys and no one knows what games will be played until everyone shows up and you see what you have [this could be understood as "emergent community"? also, if there's "no playground" - how do you know where and when to go to meet up with others? how do you mobilize and connect? festivals and temporary meeting spaces becoming increasingly important?]

[After such a long day, we were exhausted, so Jeff and I headed back to camp pretty early and were sound asleep by 9:30 PM or so.]

Annotated Notes from the Wild Goose Festival, Day 1

[This post has been backdated to the appropriate day of the festival itself, just to make future reference convenient for me and to break things up a bit.]

[Today is nothing but annotation, as I didn't take any notes during the first day of the festival.

We got on the road around 7:30 AM and arrived at Shakori Hills Farm by late afternoon. After a long, hot day in the car, I know I personally was feeling a bit cranky — this wasn't improved much by finding out on our arrival that our ticket price did not cover the cost of parking or the cost of a festival program, which we had to purchase separately (who ever heard of that?). Though the prices were relatively reasonable, the lack of forewarning left us feeling like we were being nickel and dimed (especially after recent announcements from the Wild Goose that they'd sold so many tickets and made so much money that they could afford to give tickets away for free, while speakers had "waived their speaking fees" as a donation to the festival). Also, we were not prepared with cash and the festival organizers were not prepared with an ATM, so we spent about half an hour being shuffled from one volunteer booth to another trying to find a way to pay. I was initially disappointed by the facilities, or notable lack thereof — not only were there no showers available for campers (except pay-per-minute hot showers), but there weren't even any bathrooms or running water, only port-a-potties and "use your foot" hand-washing stations. This was more a concern for me because I had a cut on my hand that I worried could become infected without regular washing with hot water and soap (but luckily, a barrage of hand sanitizer, soapy water, clean water and a layer of Neosporin after every trip to the bathroom and once before bed kept it clean enough, plus occasional trips into Chapel Hill to use actual bathrooms). The camping ground area itself was wooded and pretty nice, though we were worried that someone would demand that we pay for an extra tent space because we had a small screen house in addition to our tiny two-person tent. Luckily, it was never an issue.

We arrived just as the opening ceremony was going on, so we missed out on that while setting up camp. Once we were settled, we decided to head in to Chapel Hill (about half an hour away) to get out of the heat for a little while, and so Jeff could show me around his alma mater a bit. We had dinner at a small restaurant (forget the name), though a combination of the heat and the long drive left me not feeling very hungry. Over dinner, we joked about the idea of finding a place that sold occult jewelry so that we could wear large, obvious pentacles during the rest of the festival and avoid being mistaken as Christians. (This had already happened a few times even in the short time we'd been at the festival site, and I think we were both feeling somewhat bristled about it. Not that we blamed anyone for the assumption, but it's always slightly uncomfortable to be surrounded by people assuming a certain amount of privilege. Even when I was a Christian, I didn't go around name dropping Jesus and God into casual conversations with strangers.) By this time, though, it was late enough that most of the shops were closed, so we tabled that idea. I resolved to try to set aside my grumpiness and cynicism and put on my "anthropologist hat," to become just an interested observer and note-taker.

When returned to the festival grounds and made our way to the campsite. We were both incredibly hot and disappointed there were no showers available, but we decided to follow Granny Weatherwax's philosophy of hygiene and "wash all the bits as and whens they becomes available." This meant fumbling with a wash cloth, bar of soap and spray bottle of water in the dark as we stripped naked and helped each other wash the most badly-in-need-of-washing areas, while other campers gathered around fires and tents only a few yards away. If anyone was offended (or even saw), we never heard anything. It did lead me to think about how much easier it is to keep clean when you're not worrying about also trying to stay modestly covered up. When we were ready for bed and trying to fall asleep, it was nearly 1 AM, but our neighbors were still going strong chatting and laughing. Jeff got up and politely asked them to quiet down a bit, since we'd been up at 6 AM and had had a long, hot drive that day. I was lying in our tent listening, when I heard the unmistakable accent of Gareth, who explained that this was actually a meeting of festival staff members and so they couldn't stay quiet. He did offer the "compromise" of trying to be a bit quieter and finish up as soon as they could (which, considering they were in the woods surrounded by other campers, I would think would be more common courtesy than compromise — but then, I was still grumpy and exhausted at that point). I'm still not sure Gareth realized who Jeff was, and I'm not sure what to make of the irony of setting up camp right next to the main staff tent completely by accident. For other nights, they moved the meeting elsewhere, so noise wasn't a problem after that, and the people whose tent it was inquired after us the next morning to make sure we'd slept okay, so it all worked out, really. We slept like logs, even though Jeff had forgotten to pack the mats so we were on pretty hard ground for the weekend.]