Christmas.
I've never liked it. Maybe it's because, being Jewish, I grew up watching it from the outside. It's an interesting perspective. As a wide-eyed kid, I was very jealous -- I love Christmas trees, and my Christmas-celebrating friends always seemed to get a lot more presents than I did, and they had all these cool customs & family gatherings filled with love & warmth...
I got mini-candles and a plastic top. And, of course, Chinese food on Christmas Eve (it's a Jewish tradition -- who else is open?)
My first wife told me for a long time how wonderful Christmastime at her family's home was. Now, given the profound level of dysfunctionality her family embodied, I was skeptical, but the disconnect between what everyone believed was going to happen -- every single year -- and what, in fact, happened, was staggering. I think even the Grinch would have been impressed at the meanspiritedness those days were steeped in, all of it couched in the warm & fuzzy traditions of Christmas.
The first Christmas after we divorced was glorious in a way that only a cessation of acute pain can be.
Then, when my current, beloved, wife & I first got together, I learned that what had gone before was but prelude.
There is nothing more devastating during the holiday season than to be alone with a mother whose infant child has been taken from her by an abusive ex-husband, in cahoots with a bevy of toxic grandparents intent on keeping the child for their own, and whitewashing any appearance of impropriety, specifically by excising the offending individual -- namely, my wife -- completely.
My stepdaughter is now almost seventeen and moved in with us as soon as she was old enough to choose to do so; last Christmas was the first time we had all gotten to truly spend the holiday together. But some ghosts are not so easily exorcised.
I should also add that I've worked quite a bit of retail during the holiday season -- in the children's department at Borders. Occasionally, something would happen which would momentarily reignite my faith in humanity. The most memorable was when I was living in Providence, RI. A guy approached me, and, in a thick Italian-American accent heavy on the swagger, said, "My daughter, she wants all these books for Christmas. I don't know none of 'em, so she made me this list. Whatever you can find, I'm gonna buy her."
And so he hands me a typewritten list of books. I believe there were 29 books listed. In under ten minutes -- without consulting the computer -- I found 26 of them. The guy was impressed and surprised -- I'm sure he didn't expect me to be able to gather that many so fast but, good to his word, he bought them all. I told him that he should be proud, because his daughter wasn't buying trashy throwaway novels, but some of the best books we carried. He beamed with pride, and complimented me vociferously on my retail acumen, then headed for the cashiers.
I turned around to find a toddler, deserted by its parents, climbing the picturebooks, drool slithering from its slack lips, grunting as it reached for the display of stuffed animals above the books, heedless of the ripped and scattered volumes its scrabbling sent clattering to the ground in its wake. I should add that, when I located the parent, she was sipping a latte with a friend, and was less than civil to me when I politely informed her of the destruction her spawn had wrought. and kindly requested that she consider keeping it under her direct supervision.
As a result of all of this, the central message of Christmas, for me, is hypocrisy. Peace on earth, and hell among the relatives. Goodwill towards men, unless they stand between you & the popular bauble of the season.
And yet...
Now I find myself, somewhat jaded, almost forty, and the father to a three month old daughter who is, truly and without irony or reservation, the most wonderful thing that has ever happened to me, and whom I adore beyond words. At some point, not this year, perhaps not next; we'll have to deal with The Christmas Issue. What are we going to tell her? What kind of behavior will I model? How can I keep her from being burdened by a bitterness that need not, nor should be, her inheritance?
My wife and I have just started talking about it. There are things we value, things that it's good to remember, and the turningpoint of the year, from dark to light, seems as good a time as any to honor them. Not trot them out once a year, but pause a moment and check our course, be thankful for what we've got, what we share, and renew our commitment to live our lives as compassionate individuals set in a network of relations.
The toxic relations -- and they are yet many -- aren't invited. If I've learned anything, it's that nothing is gained by contact with toxic people. Instead, I choose to spend time with those who bring out the best in me, and whom I bring at least some modicum of pleasure. Life's too short to waste time with psychic vampires or self-serving emotional demagogues.
Somewhere between those poles of attraction and repulsion, I hope we can chart a course that helps build some family traditions. Because, for better or for worse, my daughter is going to be inundated with advertisements hawking a bill of goods that, more often than not, are a Trojan horse of virulent misery. If we can, in a positive way, provide an attractive alternative and, in doing so, save her some pain and give her some good memories, we'll have succeeded beyond my expectations.
All I know is there is going to be a tree loaded down with an obscene amount of lights, and no fairy story of a fat old elf with a big white beard sailing across the sky to reward those who are "good" and punish those who are "bad." And, because they're unavoidable in our home, lots of laughter and good food. It seems a good start, and a fine counterbalance to the diseased alternative.
I actually have been wanting to write, wanting to get down my thoughts, my experiences, whether for Kat to someday read, or me, or, heck, even some other person on the 'net who might find them something other than dreary and commonplace. I want to remember this time in my life. I also want to somehow focus on something other than the parts that are making me crazy, but, I'm not a "glass half full" kind of person. Lifelong chornic drepression, no matter how well controlled, still takes its toll.
Right now, I'm concerned about Kat. Her cold, which seemed to become a sinus infection, is most likely neither. The pediatrician thinks that its reflux, and, given her symptomology, that seems reasonable. So, she's on baby Tagamet (kind of like baby Elmo, but worthwhile.) Her weight gain has been slower than it should be -- since last Thursday, it's been much slower, In fact, she's gained no weight at all, which is distinctly not good. However, we started the Tagamet last night, and her appetite may be starting to pick up. Basically, because of the reflux, she associates eating with discomfort, and so doesn't want to eat until she absolutely has to do so. The doc said within several doses, she should start to improve. I hope so.
On the bright side, it's not a respiratory problem, which really was giving me nightmares. This is far more manageable than something that can cause apnea.
Right now, I have her on my chest, in a mei tai, which is a Chinese-inspired baby carrier. As I've mentioned, I've really been getting obsessed with the whole babywearing thing. There's a pro-BWing organization called NINO, for "Nine In, Nine Out." Our version of NINO is Barbara saying, "I carried her for nine months, now YOU carry her!" I'm down with that.
I give up.
I'll try & post tomorrow, time permitting. Which it likely won't be.
Let's just say, in the past week, I've had to take Kat to the doctor, replace a washing machine, replace the carpet in the utility room where the washer was -- and, eventually, we'll have to get new storage shelves as the old cabinets had to be ripped out, and replace a tempered glass shower door that shattered more or less of its own volition. Most of this happened under the effects of a significant sleep deficit.
On the bright side, we've worked out a better sleep routine, so we're all getting more sleep, and some other cool stuff happened, but now I'm too tired to write it all out again.
click to enlarge
Peace out, yo.
She continues to make friends with the cats. Dandelion has occasionally acted maternal towards her, while Gummitch likes to cuddle beside her while Barbara is nursing Kat. Ozymandias, Tristan & Grimalkin are nonplussed. Shmoo doesn't know what to think, but that's typical. Tatterdemalion gets curious, but is easily distracted. See an example ( behind the cut. )
I realized tonight, as I was feeding Kat, that I'd completely forgotten conceiving of her as eternally tubed and wired, that there was always some technological mediation between us. Well, not a mediation, really, but not a barrier, either -- just an ineluctable intrusion. The Tupperware box (as I called it) was the hardest, because then there was a barrier. But she came out of there fairly quickly, I think in less than a week. Then, it was just the nasal feeding tube and the various monitoring electrodes, a series of fine tethers from which Kat could not be severed. Earlier this evening, the four of us watched a Babylon 5 episode, "Born to the Purple," and, afterwards, Morganna went into her room, and Barbara went into the kitchen, while I stayed with Kat & cuddled & kissed her, and was generally both disgustingly cute and deliriously happy. I realized later that was an inconceivable experience a little more than a week ago.
Yet other memories, older memories, never seem to leave.
( Read more... )
I didn't get the time I wanted today to make the post I've been mulling over. However, I wanted to make sure to say one very important thing:
A year ago -- well, a year and a day, now -- I lost the best feline friend I've ever had, that I could ever imagine. Minnaloushe was only eight, and the illness which killed her came on, from my perspective, very quickly. It seemed like she went from the girl-cat I knew to a memory in under a month.
I still feel as if something in my life is missing without her. I've only recently started playing flute again. I couldn't for a very long time, because it always reminds me of Minna. Whenever I played, whether it was Native American flute, transverse bamboo, or shakuhachi, Minna would come to listen. Usually, she'd purr, and have to get as close to me as she could -- sometimes in my lap, or on my shoulders, or just winding around & around me. She liked other music, guitar, didj, whatever, but flute was definitely her favorite. Barbara called her my gopi, after the cow herd girls who were so utterly devoted to Krishna.
The name, of course, comes from Yeats, although, for Yeats, Minnaloushe was male. My Minnaloushe was female, but much of what Yeats sings of could be about her:
The Cat and the Moon
The cat went here and there
And the moon spun round like a top,
And the nearest kin of the moon,
The creeping cat, looked up.
Black Minnaloushe stared at the moon,
For, wander and wail as he would,
The pure cold light in the sky
Troubled his animal blood.
Minnaloushe runs in the grass
Lifting his delicate feet.
Do you dance, Minnaloushe, do you dance?
When two close kindred meet,
What better than call a dance?
Maybe the moon may learn,
Tired of that courtly fashion,
A new dance turn.
Minnaloushe creeps through the grass
From moonlit place to place,
The sacred moon overhead
Has taken a new phase.
Does Minnaloushe know that his pupils
Will pass from change to change,
And that from round to crescent,
From crescent to round they range?
Minnaloushe creeps through the grass
Alone, important and wise,
And lifts to the changing moon
His changing eyes.
-- William Butler Yeats
Now, Minna lives only in my memories, and in my avatar. She had ducked under my red bathrobe, and was peeking out flirtatiously when Barbara took the picture. Of all the pictures taken of Minna -- and, minx that she was, there are many -- this is my favorite.
Thank you, Minna.
- Mood:
melancholy
Of course, I also have to call Kat's pediatrician, as she has a cold, and I want to get her in & checked ASAP. There's no fever, and she's still eating, she's just very congested. Preemies can be delicate, though, and I don't see any reason to take a wait & see attitude. Considerably less important, but still necessary, I have to take one of our cars to the shop, as my father destroyed a tire -- right before he left to go home. After years of telling him he doesn't need to rent a car, he can borrow one, he takes me up on it, and now this. How's that for gratitude?
Eh, I'll just bill him. Heh.
But, popinjay & inveterate tinkerer that I am, I wasn't really satisfied with the SlingRider, so I've been researching various baby sling options online. Originally, I focussed on slings/pouches, because they're really good for small ones, which Kat, at 6 lbs 10 oz, certainly is. I'm not really interested in the wrap or ring carriers, as they look too complicated for my feeble mind. I'm all about simplicity & efficiency (which is a nice way of saying that I'm a lazy bastard.)
Today, I discovered the mei tai, which seems like a really great option. Basically, it's a square of fabric with straps, which can be worn in a variety of ways. Mei tais also seem to be more forgiving of the fact that Barbara & I are shaped in radically different ways, even though I'm only a couple of inches taller than she is. For Kat, I'll wear one on the front, with her in the typical frog-like newborn position, her belly against my chest. Some companies, like BabyHawk, have them in really cool fabric. You can get them custom-made in any fabric you like, as well -- now that Barbara has started quilting, we've got a pretty extensive fabric stock around the house, and, then, of course, there's always places like eQuilter.
Ultimately, though, I'm thinking of learning to make my own. I've never seen a patchwork baby carrier of any type, and a mei tai, in particular, would lend itself very well to quilted panels. Besides, if I started doing that, not only would I have an excuse to use lots of really cool fabrics, but I'd actually have some obvious reason for my general online moniker. The truth is, I've always loved looking at fabric, I just have never had any way to use most of the ones I see & like. I'm a pretty brave dresser, but I don't want to wear a continual succession of brilliantly hued band-colloared shirts. Besides, I prefer solids for clothing, anyway.
So, since my usual doc can't see me until next week, and I don't want to expose Ms. Underdeveloped Immune System to any unnecessary bugs, I went to Express Care. Great, fine - no strep, probably just a general bug. I accept what I would usually refuse -- an antibiotic "just in case." Hell, it could be viral, and that'd be of no use.
After that, I hit the drug store, a brief stop at Wal Mart (I so loathe doing that, but there's no helping it, here) then another stop at the Village Bakery for bread & tasties to surprise the girls with, and, at last, home.
I come in, call for folks, and Morganna, looking grave, says, "Come upstairs." Now, there's no hysteria, so I don't panic, but I'm definitely wary.
Her new boyfriend has been out of school for 2 days, and now she knows why: he has mono.
To her credit, her primary concern is Kat. Of course, missing weeks of school doesn't thrill her, either.
Back to Express Care -- only 10 minutes before they close. The mono test was negative, although, since Morganna is still asymptomatic and, hence, if infected, just a carrier without anitbodies, the test is inconclusive. However, upon further research, it turns out that mono (actually, the Epstein-Barr virus which causes most cases of mono) doesn't have much effect on newborns & the very young. It presents pretty much like a cold, no more.
That was a relief.
After dealing with that trauma, and having some dinner -- and my tasties got totally forgotten, for shame! -- Morganna went to bed, and Barbara & I decided it was time to give Kat a bath.
In the hospital, we'd given her a few sponge baths, which she liked well enough, but the sole dippy bath was most certainly NOT appreciated. This one went a little better, insamuch as she didn't squall the whole time. But it was very necessary, as Morganna is in need of some remedial diapering lessons, as her attempt to contain infantile exudate was profoundly unsuccessful.
So, now, clean & happier, Kat & Barbara are upstairs. B is reading poetry to the Kitten, which she apparently likes. Nevermind that her social reactivity is nearly nonexistent (after all, she is still supposed to be happily ensconced in utero.)
It's likely to be a long night. Barbara is exhausted, so I told her to sleep, and I'd bottle Kitten, which is fine. I like doing that.
In the morning: the first pediatrician appointment.
- Mood:
tired
Lately, I haven't been. Home, that is. I've been here:
From Saturday, September 16, until this past Monday, October 9, I was in Columbus, about 2 hours from home, watching my little girl in the NICU & sleeping in a succession of hotels.
Yes, I said, "little girl."
Meet Katherine Artemisia Kramer, born at 11:20am on September 16, 2006, six weeks before she was due to arrive.
- Mood:
content
You're Avante Garde Indie. You listen to abstract
music like free-jazz and Krautrock. You drink
too much coffee and you scare the fuck out of
the rest of us. We're afraid to call you
pretentious because we know that we all just
don't get it. There are few of you out there,
and most of you will probably die soon.
You Know Yer Indie. Let's Sub-Categorize.
brought to you by Quizilla
1. Not planning on dying soon.
2. Krautrock...feh.
3. My musical tastes make these seem positively top forty.
 | You scored as Buddhism. Your beliefs most closely resemble those of Buddhism. Do more research on Buddhism and possibly consider becoming Buddhist, if you are not already. In Buddhism, there are Four Noble Truths: (1) Life is suffering. (2) All suffering is caused by ignorance of the nature of reality and the craving, attachment, and grasping that result from such ignorance. (3) Suffering can be ended by overcoming ignorance and attachment. (4) The path to the suppression of suffering is the Noble Eightfold Path, which consists of right views, right intention, right speech, right action, right livelihood, right effort, right-mindedness, and right contemplation. These eight are usually divided into three categories that base the Buddhist faith: morality, wisdom, and samadhi, or concentration. In Buddhism, there is no hierarchy, nor caste system; the Buddha taught that one's spiritual worth is not based on birth.
Which religion is the right one for you? (new version) created with QuizFarm.com</tr> |
Yep. That's about right, actually. If I still had books on my shelves, rather than in boxes, this would actually reflect my library pretty well, although Taoism (which isn't an option) is also very strongly represented. Islam is represented through several translations of Rumi & Hafiz, and a few books on Sufism.
This seemed to be a pretty well constructed quiz, actually; the questions weren't all obvious or easy.
Hey ![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif)
kazoogrrl!
It's times like this I'm both happy & proud to have a fat pipe.
Anyone else ... if you haven't heard or heard of GYBE ... check them out. Long form, post-rock instrumental with absolutely incredible emotional intensity & gorgeous lyricism ... an 11 piece band with several guitars, bass, 2 drummers, violin, and cello. I recommend f#a#[infinity] or Slow Riot for New Zero Kanada.
- Mood: ecstatic
You Belong in New Zealand |
 Good on ya, mate You're the best looking one of the bunch Though you're often forgotten... You're quite proud of who you are |
Does this mean I get to work for WETA & torment hobbits? Woohoo!
[It's all
skydancerlilitu & brigidblest 's fault.]Oh, and I think I'm in love with my new monitor, but it's still not perfect. My old Trinitron finally started whistling its deathsong, so I replaced it with an LCD, a 20" Viewsonic. Damn, LCD monitors have improved. I'm still not entirely happy with it -- it seems to either be too dark, and I lose detail at that end, or too light, and I lose light colors. I've fucked around with the gamma settings & so on repeatedly. but it is still not right. OTOH, it's a fraction of the size & weight, and I can swivel it 90 degrees, which is great for email & reading online. And it's 1200x1600 -- yum.
But I still hate packing.
Been blogging, more or less happily, even got a snitty comment from Chas Clifton, which he later elaborated on in his own blog. Apparently, "[o]nly those who crave respectability, those who want to be invited to the interfaith council luncheon," think this spellbook thing may be more than a bit out of hand. Yeah. Anyway....
Other than that, just struggling to gather up the energy to get out of bed.
Eventually, I'll dig myself out. I always have. Doesn't mean I have to like it.
- Mood:
blah
Yeah, I made the hop over to Blogger, and I've got a blog going there. Actually, it's on Crazyquilt Arts, and it's called The Truth About Cats & Blogs.Why? Cause it seemed like the thing to do at the time. I'm feeling more drawn towards channeling my energy & ideas into writing articles, and responding, usually in a more extended sense, to stuff I encounter, in print, online, whatever. So, blogging.
It's also a nice way to post images, as I finish them.
I'm still going to be hanging around LJ, especially in the communities, and commenting on friends' spots. I'll probably keep a more personal journal here, but I'm not, actually, as comfortable with personal, more or less public, journaling as I might once have been.
I'm still going to do the last part of the Paganism series, although I haven't decided if I'll post it here or on TTAC&B. It should be on Monday.
Also, because I could *grin*, I set up an RSS feed for the blog at
![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/syndicated.gif){kind=small}
catsnblogs.And while I'm pimping blogs ... if you eat, try reading Barbara's blog, Tigers & Strawberries. Someone on
![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/community.gif){kind=small}
food_porn (with very good taste, I might add!) set up an RSS feed at tigerberries. - Mood: cheerful
- Music:Miles Davis - Gondwana (Live)
This section was supposed to be on “engagement.” Except I never really liked that term, and, while I could feel the idea I wanted to express with it, I couldn’t find a better word. Lo and behold, I think I have.
The word I was looking for was holism. The short definition is, “The whole is greater than the sum of its parts.” Each part is, itself, a whole. For example, the letter ‘a’ is a letter. It is also a word, an article. The function of ‘a’ is different when looked at as a letter, and when looked at as a part of speech, such as in the sentence, “This is not a pipe.” The meaning of the sentence is greater than the mere sum of its words. In fact, if you recognize the sentence as the translation of the inscription of a certain Surrealist painting, you are going up yet another order of more inclusive wholeness, from denotative to connotative meaning, from definition to metaphor and allusion.
The concept of holism was first articulated by Jan Smuts in the early twentieth century. [1] Smuts was deeply interested in answering the question, unanswered by Darwin, of why evolution seemed to go towards more complex systems. For Smuts, the cosmos was, “dynamic, energetic, evolutionary, biological and spiritual,” [2] a perspective which should sound familiar to most Pagans.
This more lengthy discussion of holism, as developed by later theorists, should give some hints as to the place of holism in Paganism:
“Although the theory of Holism frankly accepts the material basis of the world…it fully justifies the claim of the spirit in the interpretation of the world….We are constantly confronted with the opposition between matter and spirit, between the temporal and the eternal, between the phenomenal and the real. Holism shows these opposites as reconciled and harmonised in the whole. It shows whole and parts as aspects of each other; the finite is identified with the infinite, the particular with the universal. Eternity is contained in time, matter is the venture and vehicle of spirit, reality is not a transcendent other-worldly order, but is immanent in the phenomenal. To attain to reality, we need not fly away from appearance; each little centre and whole in the world, however lowly, is a laboratory in which time is transmuted into eternity, the phenomenal into the real. The wondrous truth is everywhere….Here is the within which is the beyond.”[3]
If Paganism arose in response to the rise of rationalism, industrialization and mechanization, as Hutton and others have supposed, then the idea of an inclusive, relational, and organic process which transcends the limitations of the former qualities makes a great deal of sense. It explains the predilection for Pagans to be nature worshippers, although no small number of Pagans intensely dislike and reject the term. It might be more accurate to say that Pagans respect the totality, all that is, even while they recognize that the totality isn’t homogenous.
The last train of thought passes by the concepts of polytheism and pantheism, also common in Paganism. If the whole is greater than its parts, than the indefinable quality that turns a collection of silicon and oxygen molecules into a quartz crystal whose beauty can be breathtaking can be seen as a numinous quality – a way to view pantheism. If each part of the greater whole is itself a whole, then polytheism makes sense. Freya is herself, and she contains and effects certain persons and aspects in particular ways. She bears some similarity to Inanna, and both may be contained with the set of “goddesses,” but they are not interchangeable. By the same token, one can also recognize their similarities as reflective of the ways in which humanity and divinity, passion and power, interact, without inherently delegitimizing the hard polytheist perspective. Holistic logic is multivalent -- but that does not mean that everything is equally valid or that discrimination and critical thinking are impossible.
The concepts of holism also echo many common magical laws, such as contagion. “As above, so below,” makes sense in a holistic view that is impossible in a more mechanistic or atomistic view. The use of metaphor and symbolic reality to transform phenomenal reality is implied, as well.
Of course, holism can be twisted into less healthy forms. If one believes that one can act only via metaphor or symbol, then what is psychologically classified as magical thinking can result. The extremely magical thinker feels that by burning a green candle, they can increase their wealth, while not bothering to try and apply for jobs or tighten up their spending habits. Like many things that run counter to core Pagan values, people who fall into this trap are often deemed fluffy.
The answer given by most responsible and mature Pagans underscores that holistic worldview: Sure, burn the candle or do whatever magical work you want, but use it to empower and synergize with “real world” activity. In traditional Western ceremonial magic, the rite is constructed in such a way that the maximum amount of sensory data is used to underscore the efficacy of the ritual, hence the extensive tables of correspondence. In more modern Pagan working, this seems to have taken the next step, outside of the ritual room and into the rest of the operator’s life.
This tendency towards valuing engagement with life as it is also underlies the desires of Pagan progressives and activists. Since all parts are also wholes, they have intrinsic value; from this can be derived an ethic of social justice. It also explains why far too many Pagans feel the need to talk about making the world a better place or helping environmental causes, yet may not, in fact, do much; they are paying lip service to a value they perceive as socially significant.
On the other hand, Pagans have a strong affinity for non-ordinary, or transcendent, realities. Trancework, shamanistic practice, communication with spirit or god-forms, and divination are all common, even integral, to many forms of Pagan belief and practice. Yet, many Pagans don’t view these practices as supernatural – they are simply indicative of a wider view of nature.[4]
Ultimately, mature Pagans recognize that they have bodies, live on Earth in the early 21st century, and that those are every bit as important, even sacred, as spiritual or magical existence. Transcendent entities and states can inform and enrich embodied existence; they do not replace it.
[1] http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Holistic
[2] http://www.ceptualinstitute.com/genre/be
[3] http://www.isss.org/primer/smuts.htm
[4] I know Margot Adler observes this in Drawing Down the Moon, although I’m sorry to say my copy is packed away in a box right now, so I can’t give you a precise citation. Mea culpa. But I’ve heard many other Pagans say this, as well. So there. Nyahh.
I’m going to take a hopefully brief aside here to clarify some things.
In looking at Paganism from a cultural perspective, rather than a theological one, some of the premises of the nature and use of definition are altered. What I am attempting to do is to lay out the value system that Pagans seem to employ.[1] A value system can belong to a single person, or it can belong to a group, which may or may not choose to codify it legally. A value system does not have to be internally consistent; the belief that consistency is important is, itself, a value. Further, a value system can mean what a person (or group) claims to hold valuable, although their actions may be different. The Golden Rule is a central Christian value, but that doesn’t mean that all Christians always obey it.[2] I’m not, in general, saying how the values are prioritized, or whether Pagans practice what they preach.
This brings us to today’s value: critical thinking. Pagans value, to varying degrees, the ability for each person to think for themselves, as opposed to being told what to think and believe.
For anyone who’s read 9LMM, you must be thinking, “What are you smoking?”[3] Bear with me a moment.
Sure, there are lots of Pagans who don’t, in fact, exhibit a shred of critical thought. If their High Priestess or favorite author says it, it must be so. If it feels right, it must be true. There are even no small number of Pagans who explicitly or implicitly reject critical thinking, preferring to focus on whatever feels good at the moment.
All that being said, I still think that critical thinking is a significant and common Pagan value. How many Pagans have you heard say, “I left Christianity because I thought it was wrong,” and then proceed to tell you how they thought it was wrong or harmful? That may not be a sophisticated post-modernist cultural deconstruction of the memetic and paradigmatic ontological status of Christian dogma, but it’s criticism nonetheless. Even the idea that a certain belief or practice does or doesn’t “feel right,” and thus can be chosen or discarded, is a matter of discrimination, a sort of inchoate critical thinking.
How many Pagan authors and leaders will actually come out and say, “Things are this way, because I said so,” or, “because the Gods have decreed it so,” and thus deny the right of others to choose otherwise? Even someone like Silver Ravenwolf will say, “Don’t take my word for it!” Of course, when people actually criticize, she’s quick to appeal to “Spirit” as a support for her actions, and cattily attack her critics, even while she says, “I too, celebrate the freedom of choice.”[4]
This is a great example of how a stated value is often not so clear in actual practice. So, having established why I think critical thinking is a core Pagan value, even though it is all to often not prioritized as highly in the Pagan value system as I might like it to be, let’s turn some of the ways the value manifests itself, and some of its implications.
A significant number of Pagans first learned of and about their Pagan path from written material, whether in the form of a book, a website, or an online community. But literacy is not sufficient; Pagans do not respect blind adherence to any form of dogma, and while ethical codes abound, they are not perceived as inviolate or divinely received. Pagans will shop around for authors, sites, or teachers that they find helpful. Some want to be challenged, others want to be reassured. Most of us, I think, fall in the middle, or do either one at different times.
In Triumph of the Moon, Ronald Hutton suggests that, in part, Wicca came out of the Romantic movement. The Romantics were, themselves, simultaneously rebelling against and critiquing the rise of industrialism and the tyranny of the rational over the irrational, or, as the Romantics would be more likely to term it, the sublime. I believe that the spiritual nationalism which resulted in the increased appreciation of pagan religion and custom, whether in the form of the Celtic Twilight or the collection/creation of the Finnish national epic, The Kalevela or the rise in interest in Norse legendry typified by Wagner, is a related phenomenon. I think this may be an important common link between Wicca and Reconstructionism, although I’ll be the first to say I can’t prove it.
If that’s the case, then it would also more clearly show the relationship between the common Pagan tendency to rebel against the dominant culture and the importance of critique, which I believe underlies the rebellion.
This tendency to evaluate, re-evaluate, accept, and reject has caused a series of back-and-forth movements within the Pagan communities. Critical thinking and logic can, themselves, be occult processes. Sometimes, they are viewed as a means by which an elite lords it over everyone else. As a result, you get the anti-intellectual folks who are so focused on what “feels” right, and say that logic takes away from mystical experience.
Needless to say, they have a point. Mystical experience, in its truest sense, transcends logic. It just is. Of course, when you come down from the mountain, you still need to work in the fields. How we ground that experience in a constructive fashion can be positively effected through the use of careful critical thought. There are a variety of ways to mediate subjective and objective, individual and communal. Discussion, negotiation, theorization … all of these require careful attention, patience, and discernment: the hallmarks of critical thought.
While faith, especially blind faith, is frequently devalued, subjective spiritual experience is still recognized as significant, even life-changing. However, there is great resistance to the application of one person’s (or group’s) subjective experience to other individuals or those outside the group. One of my favorite solutions that has come up to this problem is the Asatru term OPG, or Other People’s Gnosis. Basically, it may be true for you that Odin told you that he loves cheese, and so you should venerate it. But that doesn’t mean that anyone else has to venerate cheese. Unless, of course, I ask the All Father and he agrees that, yes, I should bow down before the Sacred Wheel of Jarlsberg. Then it’s my gnosis, and you and I can heroically bond over our shared adoration of Sacred Curds.
Just as personal sovereignty can metastasize into narcissism, critical thinking can go too far. It can result in a rejection of any subjective experience in favor of objective data. It can also result in a sort of wanton destructiveness of anyone else’s ideas or practices. Ideally, the critic is attempting to cite weaknesses with the intent of creating a stronger structure. However, some critics can use the tools of criticism with the primary intent of destruction. In addition, there are those who may be highly critical of others, but who are not accepting of valid criticism in return. These sorts are sometimes termed ‘Pagan fundamentalists,’ and while they are, currently, more rare than fluffies, they do exist, and can be problematic. I’ve also heard the term applied to those who refuse to use any critical faculties, and insist that by faith alone are all acts accomplished. To me, the use of “fundamentalist” to typify to seemingly antithetical positions implies the importance of, and the variety of prioritizations of, critical thinking, as well as the use of “fundamentalist” to mean anyone whose value system conflicts, particularly if strongly held, with mine.
[1] For more on value systems: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Value_syste
[2] Or, as William S. Burroughs so pithily notes, “When doing business with a religious son of a bitch, get it in writing. His word isn’t worth a shit, not with the good Lord telling him how to fuck you on the deal.” If I knew the exact source, I’d cite it. But since Burroughs also says, “Loot the Louvre! Steal anything in sight!” I’m not overly concerned, at least in this case.
[3] Cairo, from Greg Pease, in a little Svendborg Blast 303</a>, actually.
[4] http://www.spiritualitea.com/books/teenw
If you find yourself speechless (either because of the effect that The BooBahs themselves had on you, or as a result of having to ingest, imbibe, or inhale a great deal more of the intoxicant of your choice in order to cope with The BooBah Experience) I submit the following pithy review from the charmingly named http://www.fartoosilly.co.uk/rants/booba
I would never have heard of The BooBahs, except that the little fuzzy freaks had invaded our local supermarket. They were conveniently situated just opposite the liquor department.
Coincidence?
I think not.
- Mood: indescribable
