Pagan Godspell

For two years, my intrepid spouse and I lived in a community house with three other friends of ours.  I will not regale the entire story of that time, except to say that it was extremely illuminating, sometimes fun and many times extraordinarily difficult in a multitude of ways.  I learned a lot about living in community – about compromise and conflict, yes, but also about the daily living of a group of people with different backgrounds, religions, philosophies, and personalities – and whether or not it was always a jolly good time, it was unarguably an immeasurably valuable experience.

One of our housemates was a Conservative (or Masorti) Jew who kept kosher.  Thus, we agreed as a house to keep a kosher kitchen – and as several of us were vegetarians, we also agreed to keep a vegetarian kitchen, which made keeping kosher a little less complex.  Over the course of living together, we had many opportunities to discuss kashrut and other religious requirements of our own unique faith traditions.  Most profoundly for me, I recall her once commenting that keeping kosher was for her a way to maintain a deeper engagement with her faith – as our days so often revolve around eating and acquiring food, the time that she takes to examine an item while grocery shopping to determine if it’s kosher or kashering the kitchen or taking the necessary steps to assure she keeps kosher in a community house full of gentiles during Pesach serve as continual reminders, keeping her faith always in her thoughts, in her conscious awareness (I am paraphrasing according to my memory of what she said, of course). 

Also, in a more recent conversation with a fellow Pagan and vegan friend, we came to the conclusion that our approach to veganism (and vegetarianism before that) lies along the same lines.  Our adherence to these particular diets come from a variety of sources – political, environmental, and health-wise to name a few, and every veg*n (this is shorthand for vegetarian/vegan, and is used to denote the inclusion of the many varieties of vegetarian and vegan options, such as raw, lacto-ovo, etc.) has different reasons for their choices, but my friend and I also place emphasis on our spiritual reasons for our diets.  Our compliance with a set of dietary requirements functions much as my Jewish friend described one of the many reasons she keeps kosher – as a way of engaging deeply and daily with our spiritual commitments, with our relationships, our religious ethics, our Gods.

This is not, of course, to say that non-veg*ns cannot be spiritual (a silly notion at best) or ethical, or anything, merely that I am intrigued by the practice of religious dietary requirements*.  As a tool to engage in this kind of awareness, voluntary dietary requirements can be incredibly effective (note the word “voluntary” – while I do believe that maintaining a vow through moments of boredom or annoyance can be good for one’s spiritual discipline, I do not believe in compulsory religious requirements that invade boundaries, deprive people of making choices about their own authentic spiritual, emotional or physical selves, or cause suffering). 

Through the choices that I make in the intimate business of eating, I am constantly reminding myself of my commitments to my spirituality, my ethics, my politics, and my communities.  As an Earth-centered spiritual community, the choices we make to eat, say, organic food, or veg*n food, or ethically treated food, or sustainably grown/harvested food, as much as we are able to do so (and many people are not, as I am very aware), or even our taking time to really consider how these foods arrive at our table, our recognition of the extraordinariness of their very existence (that plums and pomegranates for example are not only beautiful and taste delicious, but are also exquisitely good for you in a million ways – holy crap that’s amazing) – if we did this all the time, at every meal?  My Gods – an entire spiritual discipline.  A holy communion every time food from the Mother touches our lips. 

This awareness is at the heart of all spiritual discipline – to remind us of our committments, our loves, our passions, our relationships (again with the relationships – I cannot get away from that).  It is the heart of prayer, of ritual, of these religious dietary choices. 

Which leads me to thinking about eating in a religious ritual context, such as communion…but that will have to wait for another time.  For today, I wish you the spark of holy awareness that sits in the sweet milk of a good crisp apple while standing in the snow at the edge of the wood – knowing that somewhere in the infinite diversity of everything, there you are, and that’s all, and that’s enough.

*Indeed, this is not to say that any dietary choice is superior to another.  That I am veg*n or that others eat meat is not the point – the point is that dietary requirements that come out of a religious context interest me, and this is one example of how my own personal polythea/ologies inform and are informed by my own food choices and habits.  I have been engaging with these issues with diet for years, as I navigate the world of nutrition-based and eco-based diets in an attempt to find the system that works best for me in a holistic way.

Once again, I return.  Fresh from a multitude of conversations about ministry, religious leadership, poetry, youth, and identity.  As always, I was set to pondering a number of topics, most notably the reiteration of my beliefs regarding identity, self-knowing and relationship in the context of spiritual discernment and religious inquiry.  Over the course of several years spent working with youth, teaching workshops on performance poetry in relationship to these greater question of self-identity and how one’s “deep gladness meets the world’s deep hungers” (that’s Frederick Buechner, who also said: Listen to your life. See it for the fathomless mystery that it is. In the boredom and pain of it no less than in the excitement and gladness: touch, taste, smell your way to the holy and hidden heart of it because in the last analysis all moments are key moments, and life itself is grace.  To which I say: Oh YES), and in addition to the many many (many…many) years engaged in my own struggles with vocational discernment and spiritual wrastling, I’ve become keenly interested in the details of the individual’s personal evolution of soul and spiritual journey.  Or, to put all that into those two tiny Oracular words of infinite wisdom and the charge (in my most humble opinion) of all Pagans and perhaps all religious persons everywhere:  Know Thyself. 

I talk a lot about relationship, because I believe it is the bedrock of authentic, engaged spirituality.  This sounds simple and straightforward, but the more I grok it, the richer it becomes for me.  At any rate, the plain fact is, one cannot engage in soul-bone deep right and meaningful relationship with the world, the Earth, the Gods, the Spirits, each other, etc., until one Knows Oneself.  That’s pretty exciting to me, because Getting to Know Oneself is the best themepark ride ever created.  And as one deepens awareness of self, one’s relationships deepen in concert with that awareness – as a free bonus (well, if you consider years and years of soul-searching, gut-wrenching, emotionally-wringing work free I guess…okay, so not free…whatever).  Some might say this is because we are all “god,” or that thea/ologies of immanence provide a space for “god” or the Spirit to dwell in everyone, thus by creating this deeper relationship with your authentic self, you are in fact creating a deeper relationship with Spirit, who is you and is within you.  This is one way to look at it – I think it’s more complicated than that (particularly when looking at polytheisms), but that’s one explanation at least.

And in the array of tools available to assist the average seeker with this enormous life project, there are none so equipped in my opinion, as the arts.  Art is a conversation – with self and Other simultaneously - that is also a magical act.  As is the practice of Offering.  And thus it seems to me that in the moment when Art and Offering meet, within the nexus of that union is the Glimpse – the articulation of Divine Knowing – that moment of ecstatic joy, when it becomes as clear as a white winter’s day that the Self and the Other are at the same time unique and the same, two and yet one, the whole holy mess, one mess, many messes.

Thus, for today, I wish you all the glorified moment of Knowing – yourself and the Other, in the sweet sublime messy perfection of artistic offering – a little oil on the fire, a little sun in the heart, some verse, some collage, a handful of sweet-smelling herbs, a lock of your hair given to the woods, a little Andy Goldsworthy, a little Mary Oliver, a little Annie Dillard, and a lot of you.  Right now, the Earth is listening…and then she is speaking – right to the core of every breathing thing.

Last night one of my friends paid me an unusual compliment.  She said that I am at my best when I don’t believe I’m making any sense.  An interesting statement.  Perhaps I ought to try less at making sense, then.

And then the more I thought about it, the more I got into the idea.  Making sense is overrated, and of course, completely subjective.  What makes sense to me often makes no sense to others (and sometimes, later, I realize they were right…but nevermind), and vice versa.  There is a place for sense, sure, but too much sense makes for things like Propriety, and that can get right properly boring.  We need more Holy Nonsense – more Fridays of Blithering Joy.  So today, to hell with sense.  Mwahaha!  Today I will dive headfirst into a Polythea/ology of Nonsense.  Nonsense is the wave of the present.  There is a deep mystical truth here, but explaining it would only be Silly.  I’m going to start a new Order (so many Holy Orders, so little time) – the Holy Disorder of Radical Nonsensicals.  Here’s the initiate’s Prayer:

A Nonsense Prayer

Holy Ball of Blue and Green,
Sacred Marble in a game of Stellar Jacks,
ClownWoman, tripping over the backs of Laughing Turtles
and somersaulting over to Dance with Singing Shrews -
Mother Goose and Cousin of a Thousand Tricks!
Here I am!  Standing on my Hands!
Here I am!  Praying in traffic!
Here I am!  Giving away my Dancing!
Here I am!  Touching my nose and my tongue!
I have a handful of confetti and it looks like the Stars.
There is a Mermaid holding hands with a Salamander.
I make offerings of purple shoes and apples.
I plant seeds in between houses in secret.
There is a gateway of roses and I will meet you there.

In Seesaws and Turtledoves Forever and Ever. 
Blessed be as blessed dances.

———

Welcome, Sisters and Brothers to the Holy Disorder!  Hand out a free apple and a hug this weekend. 

Nonsensical blessings!

Ah – many many thanks to the Gods and Spirits for the gorgeous snow that fell this past weekend and the winter trees and the fantastic hush snaking across the carpeted land. I am grateful for these seasons and their reminders of the cycles of my own self in the year. When the snow falls, I am reminded of my home – the spinning wheel, the baking of bread, the friendly spiders that build their homes in my corners, the work of prayer and meditation and spiritual training. And thoughts of interpersonal relationship – while apart from my coven I find myself once again in the realm of the solitary, and while that work is ultimately perhaps the most important for mystical transformation and other deeper Mysteries, I think again how fulfilling it is to also work with a group, celebrating the seasons, the hallows, making group offerings and making room for discussion and contemplation with others.  And for solitaries, much of this interaction with groups happens at large Pagan gatherings and in large, public ritual. 

So I’ve been thinking about the many times I’ve encountered public Pagan rituals that have left quite a bit to be desired.  Public ritual can certainly be a hit or miss enterprise with Pagans, ranging from ecstatic to lukewarm to the ultimate, dreaded “ritual failure.”  Mostly, for me, it’s fallen somewhere in the middle there, near lukewarm.  And it isn’t only me – certainly I’ve spoken with many other Pagans who get squirrely about public, large-scale group ritual, and many who refuse to participate at all.  These failures can be for many reasons, such M. Macha Nightmare’s recent review of the technological difficulties that plagued the 2006 Spiral Dance (note that she makes a point of saying that despite these technological difficulties, the Spiral Dance was wonderful, as she says: “Better in many ways because it was more intimate and community-based instead of showy and exhibitionistic”), or for a lack of preparation, artistic quality, nervousness, or a lack of participation on behalf of the gathered.  Of course there are times when an individual is not going to feel something due to their individual situation, but somewhere along the line, there are times when group rituals just holistically fail – in bringing the community together as a body, in inspiring the gathered, in invoking deity, in raising the desired energy, in invoking Awen, ecstasy, joy, tears, the emotional and spiritual movement of good worship (granted not all would use the word “worship,” I undertand).

Somewhere in the many questions and interesting discussions that could be had regarding large-scale public ritual, my first question is Why?  What are we hoping to accomplish in these large gatherings?  Most often, the most successful large-scale rituals I’ve attended have focused primarly on the celebration of the holidays, with thanksgiving, offering, and then feasting, dancing and drumming through the rest of the evening.  The trickier rituals are those that strive for large-scale trance, magical rites, or energy raising (though movement rituals where everyone is involved is often incredibly successfull for these purposes I’ve found, such as the spiral dance, or ecstatic dancing up energy to a fever pitch and then releasing it). 

There are two sides of my personal approach to ritual.  One is delicious anarchy, and the other is delicious order.  On one hand, the anarchy of inspired and spontaneous group ritual is some of the best in the world.  On the other, there is much to be said for repetition, for participants being familiar with the liturgy, movements, etc., due to their intimacy with the material and with each other.  In rituals where there is a high expectation of group involvement, structure is necessary to bond the group together towards the ritual purpose, so that antistructure (the Awen of ritual fire) can exist.  Is it possible that in the face of public ritual, where the gathering may consist of peoples from a widely varying background, it may be preferable to keep the rituals purely celebratory (offerings, feasting), and keep more focused magical energy work for gatherings where a little more structure can be eventually gained through repetition and practice?

I’d be interested to hear others’ thoughts on these Pagan liturgical issues.  For the nonce (nonce!  what a great word), I wish all the blooming rose of Awen in your hearts and minds, and the healthy freezing glow of a really good snowball fight.  And some hot chocolate.  (Or, for the adventurous, you could also take Mark Morford’s advice on unusual ways to keep warm this winter….)

While poking about in the varous news media that taunt me and leave me so often ravaged by despair, I came upon an interesting article in the Chronicle of Higher Education regarding the reemergence of scientific inquiry into the effects of hallucinogenic mushrooms (the online article is password protected).  The article itself is not truly what I want to talk about – I’ll leave it up to my readers to decide their own opinions about hallucinogens and whether they possess spiritual or psychological value, etc.  But what caught my eye was this passage:

Among the first to venture forward was Dr. Griffiths of Hopkins. He wanted to see if psilocybin could induce a mystical experience, like those reported by some participants in Dr. Pahnke’s Good Friday experiment, but in a safe environment, with careful experimental controls.

The notion that mystical experiences, regardless of whether they are induced by entheogens, drumming, breathing exercises, chanting or what have you, can be truly induced in careful, safe, controlled environments under scientific scrutiny is what has me pondering today.

Is mysticism ever safe?  If you have a groovy, feel-good experience that doesn’t require you to re-examine anything about yourself or your environment, is it a mystical experience?  Now, it’s not that I’m one of those folks who thinks you have to undergo some kind of personal emotional, spiritual or bodily agony in order to experience communion with the Divine (or right, meaningful relationship with the Earth, etc.) - I did a considerable amount of research on asceticism in school (people who live for 30 years on top of a pole fascinate me, what can I say?), and have come to the belief that while the pain and suffering route may work for some, it’s pretty much entirely theology-driven (that theology being predominately dependent upon a deep hatred of the body).  Much mysticism is theology-driven, I think.  Yet, there is also a body of evidence that suggests that there are similarities between descriptions of mystical experience from differing religions.

So – what is a mystical experience (I’m asking the small questions today, apparently)?  Obviously, I don’t know.  I’ve had them.  I know what I mean by them.  When I talk about mystical experiences, I am usually talking about feeling bliss, joy, ecstasy, rapture, communion and holy good stuff, yes (often in a manner that’s nearly impossible to communicate in words – so much so that it appears ridiculous to use the word “joy” or “ecstasy” to encapsulate these moments – poetry is the only language that comes close…thus the mountain of fall-down gorgeous word-smithing by mystics worldwide).  But I can also mean those wicked-ass “Dark Nights of the Soul” we were talking about a couple weeks ago.  I certainly believe that every mystical experience I’ve had has resulted in my own deep, soul-level transformation.  And not one has felt safe, or controlled, or careful.  This is of course not to say that I think people ought to run out and do stupid things in order to have themselves a mystical experience – duh.  What I am asking is that in an experimental situation, even a comfy one (as the article describes – couches and plush carpets, etc.), while it may be possible to have a meaningful experience, or even a mind-opening one, is it possible to be mystical?  Are we cheapening this word and what it implies by using it so casually?  Or are we using it casually? 

Perhaps it is possible to have a moment of pure communion with the Holy in a controlled environment.  Having never participated in a study like this, I can hardly say, it’s true.  But I can’t help but feel…weird about it.  As though there’s something that I’m missing here that makes it not quite right.  But again, I’m entirely suspicious of almost any civilized enterprise, particularly when it comes to scientific inquiry into the “biology” of religious experience, which I just can’t help but think is really quite silly.