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Drama

Drama. We all enjoy a bit of it every now and then. Influenced by television, film and books, we act in a similar fashion to people in those tales – or how we think they would act. Life is not at all like EastEnders, and yet, how many people do you know who try to make their lives just like that particular show? I have known plenty in my brief time on this planet so far, for various reasons – boredom and low self-esteem raking high.

Why do we enjoy the drama in our lives so much? Various reasons – it gives us attention, it makes us feel important, it turns our attention away from other things. When something is happening to us, we enjoy the opportunity to extol upon this, whether the situation was a positive or negative one (yet, in reality, there are no positive or negative situation, merely situations).

The culprit for all personal dramas is the ego. Remove the ego, and all drama ceases to be.

Remove the ego? Who would I be then?

We are all under the false assumption that we are our egos. In effect, our egos consist of patterns of ingrained beliefs and behaviours. All of these can be changed. If all of these can be changed, then who are we? Is there a core person in the first instance, if we all have the ability to change?

What would you say if I told you that you were not the centre of the universe? You would probably agree with me (I hope). What if I told you that you were not the centre of your own universe?

It is only our perception of ourselves as the centre of our little universe, our dramas, that continue to lead to suffering and dissatisfaction in our lives. When we realise that, in fact, our own universe does not even exist, we can move away from both it and the drama that we create to sustain it – just think about all the energy that we pour into something that doesn’t even exist. We cannot have our own universe, for we are sharing it all the time with everything on this planet, indeed in this universe. Uni – one. Not separate. When we realise that, our worldview shifts dramatically.

Not being the centre of our own universe means not reacting to every little or large thing that happens in our lives. If someone upsets me, who is the “me” that they are upsetting? Why am I reacting, getting upset? For comfort from someone else, for attention, to be told that I am right and that they are a horrible person? Who is this person that is upsetting me? Who am I?

By combining Zen and Druidry in my spiritual path, I have come to realise many things about myself, whoever this self is. I don’t have to react to everything. Things will happen, I have no control over them. What I do have control over is my reaction to them, or lack of reaction. Much like in nature – the daffodil rises early in January, and then dies from killing frosts in February. Does it get upset about it? Why do we let our human consciousness impede our lives so much in this way, when all of nature seems to cope without the drama? The daffodil will bloom again when it can – as simple as that.

Seeing how nature copes, combined with the principles found in Zen (of no separation, the destruction of the “self”) has really opened my eyes over these last two years. Zen teaches us that when we see Buddha on the road, we should kill him. Why is this? Because there is no Buddha external to us – it is inherent in all of us. To believe otherwise is to believe in fallacy. When we realise that Buddha is in everyone, why be all dramatic about anything? As Charlotte Joko Beck stated, and titled a book – Nothing Special.

Living with this mindset, that life is nothing special, has, paradoxically, the effect of seeming to make everything special. Life becomes special, when we take our egos and the drama out of it, and see it for what it really is. It becomes real, as opposed to the imaginary world that we create to indulge our egos, our imaginary universe where we are the centre of existence. Which would you prefer to live in?


Note: Zen Druidry is a book that I am writing for Moon Books, looking at how Zen and Druidry can combine to create a worldview that awakens one to the natural world with full awareness. For more wonderful titles from Moon Books, please see their website at www.moon-books.net.

Fire in the Head

Fire in the Head

Fire is like our mind. Like our mind, it is bright, full of energy, of thoughts, dancing like flames. The flames of our mind can bring forth inspiration and beauty, or they can destroy all in their path. We must tend to the fires of our mind, to know the spirit of fire, and so by doing know the spirit of our own self.

When our mind is free of harmful thoughts, towards ourselves or other beings, then the fire burns bright and clear. It is a steady flame, blue at its heart, warming and nurturing all that it needs to. However, when our mind is full of negative thoughts, the flames burn inefficiently, sparks flying from dark pockets of pooled negativity trapped within the wood that we feed into the fire of our minds. Our minds must be cleared of these thoughts, and to begin we must first notice these thoughts.

The fire of the mind must be fed correctly. Fire is hungry. Our minds are hungry. We always want more, desire filling our minds, burning hot. We must feed this correctly, and by doing so, feed our needs more so than our desires. Desire burns quickly and fades, our needs are a constant thing. We should feed our minds thoughts that are like the hardest of woods, which will burn long and true. Desires burn like soft wood – good for getting the fire going, but burning out long before the nurturing heat can set it that warms the heart and warms the soul.

Feed the mind too much, and the fire in the head burns out of control. We process so much information, it is no wonder our thoughts burn constantly in our minds. We must learn to stockpile our thoughts correctly, so that we feed the fire slowly. Noticing our thoughts in meditation, they soon settle, and the fire which at first rampages burns more constantly. Soon, all our extraneous thoughts become the flames, dancing, flickering, playing in our minds, giving light but not that much heat. When these flames settle, our thoughts burn like the coals beneath, shining with their own inner light.

We must learn not to disturb our minds with too much information. If you are constantly playing with a fire, it will never settle and burn correctly. Let the thoughts settle, and inspiration will burn brighter than ever. Sit, and simply be, every day, for as long as you can. Meditate before a fire, and you will soon understand the fire in the head.

The Green Man

It was Lady Raglan who first coined the term "Green Man" in her 1939 article "The Green Man in Church Architecture" in The Folklore Journal. He is often seen in relation to Jack in the Green, a figure which is gaining popularity in many seasonal celebrations, pagan or not. Other names for this figure are Puck, Robin Goodfellow, the Wild Man and the Green Knight. The Green Man has survived centuries of Christianity, and is currently enjoying a popular revival, in both paganism and folklore customs. But just who is the Green Man?

For many, the Green Man is an old British character from folklore or myth, decorating churches and other structures with pretty and fanciful artwork – a motif. It is a popular pub name, and also a popular alternative or pagan shop name. For me, the Green Man is much more than that. For me, the Green Man is deity.

A god of growing, life, decay and death, the Green Man for me is a god of the life force behind all vegetation. Where the Horned God is the spirit that lies within all animals of the wild, the Green Man is the energy of the plant world in its continual cycles. He is that which causes a seed to sprout, he is that which causes that sprout to reach for the sun. He is the intention behind all growth, and the result of it.

The Green Man is not a compassionate god (in my personal opinion, there are very few, if any). He lives to live, at whatever cost. In the spring, everything seems wonderful – renewed and happy for the warmer climes and returning light. The blossoms burst on the trees and the new leaves unfurl with the most exquisite yellow-green light within them. There is space to grow, to reach for that light – everything in seeming harmony.

Come summer, all of that has changed. Like the calm before the storm, the spring can lure us into a sense of sun-inspired complacency. There is a struggle and a fight that lies ahead of us, and the Green Man knows this. He is the inspiration behind that. The flowers, grasses, trees – indeed, all vegetation, soon begins a competition for space and light, hungering for all that they can get in order to fufill their potential, following their own songs of earth and sunlight. The Green Man chokes riverbeds with weeds, kills young trees as their older siblings block out the light. Nature does what is its nature.

That energy, from the first sprouting seed to the choking death of late summer – that, for me, is the Green Man. The urge and the surge to rise up, to be all that you can, to fulfil your potential with the songs of rain and wind. It’s very easy to get caught up in it – but then again, submission to any of the gods will only lead to ruin. Dancing with the Green Man can be a wonderful experience, yet is can also be devastatingly exhausting. He cares not. The trick lies in knowing when to stop, for we, of course, are not a god.

We can take our inspiration from the Green Man, following in the cycle of nature, of growth and decay. We can honour him for all that he is – a deity of plant life, with that unique soul song. And we can dance with him, for a little while, at the very least.

The Wild Gods

I love the word wilderness. It conjures up images of windswept moors and heathland, dark tangling forests and craggy mountaintops. That spirit of the untamed, the uncivilised, that spark that humanity cannot touch, much in the same way as deity is traditionally viewed. For many Druids, that wilderness is deity – it has the power to give or sustain life or the power to kill. It has not and, in many places, cannot be touched by human hands, existing without any human interference. I like to think that same dark spark exists within our own human souls as well, offering us the sanctity of the wilderness within.

The concept of the “untouched” wilderness is an interesting one. I rather wonder if it has anything to do with secular religious views that have crept into our culture predominantly for the last thousand years or so. The concept of the virgin forest, the virgin wilderness – I have to say, I really dislike the term. It is nice to think that there are places in the world where humans have never been – but still, it’s the terminology that is rather uncomfortable. I have been to places where humans have lived with the landscape, and who live there no more – the wilderness has returned. Where stone buildings once stood, nature has reclaimed it, slowly destroying it until nothing remains but the songs on the wind. Virginity cannot ever be reclaimed – and in this regard, I find the term does not work within the context of the natural world. As it works in cycles, what happened once can be undone.

As wilderness flows with the cycles, it shows that it cares little about anything else. It exists to exist – there is no other. It follows its own song, and will continue to do so. Humans may interfere with the existing wilderness, “taming” it if you will, but it will continue to carry on attempting to restore itself to its original state. It is that spirit, that sense of soul song reclaiming itself again and again that I find so fascinating. The weeds will continue to sprout in the garden, whether we are farming organically or not (I really hope that all reading this do!). The wind will continue to blow regardless of skyscrapers, bridges, mountaintops or 500 year old yew trees.

This could be seen a thoughtless – and, when examining it closer, it is. Nature does not think – it simply does. The rose blooms because that is what it does, the fox destroys the hen house because that it what it does. When we humans enter (albeit very briefly) a state of grace where thoughts are pushed aside and we simply do (giving birth, for example) we experience this whole other realm of existence. I believe that when we enter this state, we very much come close to our gods.

For, in my personal views, the gods don’t care. They exist to exist – nothing else matters. Prayers to them are for establishing a relationship, not to make them care more about our personal lives. And so the gods of the wildnerness are truly wild.

How we treat the wilderness both within and without should be made with respect to the gods of the wild places. If wilderness is viewed as deity, then our whole perception of it is changed. We may leave it alone – as deity can kill. We may work to protect it, fighting fiercely for it like one of our own. However, any way we look at it, we look at it with new respect. We honour its song.

My personal treatment of these wild places is to leave no trace of my human passing, should I venture into an area of wilderness. Taking a pedantic view, no area will ever be the same – our footprints tread on beetle under leaves, our passage destroying the spider’s web spanning from branch to branch. However, nothing is every the same – life is continually happening, being born, being created, living and dying all around us. My aim in life is to honour this cycle, most apparent in the wilderness of the landscapes around me, as well as the wilderness in my own soul. You don’t mess with the gods. You don’t sublimate to them either, but still you don’t mess with them. We may seek to understand, to establish communication, a relationship with them, but we should not interfere in their song in these places where it is so strong, so precious. For it is in these places where we see clearly the divinity within nature, and so seeing the nature of the divine.

Autumn Song

How Druidry relates to the Environment

Druidry, perhaps more than any other strand of Paganism in the wide weave of spiritual traditions, takes the environment into consideration on so many levels. Druidry – most commonly believed to be from the old Irish words dru and wid meaning “oak knower”, or even the Proto-European deru and weid “oak-seeker” acknowledges this communion with nature in the very roots (pardon the pun) of the word. Heathenry – one from the heaths, or Wicca (most commonly believed to be from the Saxon wicce, to bend or shape, as a willow branch can be bent or shaped into something quite beautiful) have similar nature-orientated origins, however, the communication between the natural environment and the Druid is even closer simply in the name.

How do Druids view their environment? Many, if not most Druids are animistic, believing in the essential spirit of everything, whether it be rock or tree, raindrop, beetle, horse or the sea. There is a sense of consciousness in everything. When I use the word consciousness, I don’t mean in the scientific sense of the last two centuries, where it was used to differentiate between humans and other animals and also “non-sentient” beings. Consciousness, to me, is a part of the greater whole web of life, where threads are woven together, separate but still connected. It is what makes something what it is – whether it is the rose, a cloud or the moon. It is its own inherent identity, or, more poetically, its own song that makes it what it is.

With that sense of consciousness in all things, it is much harder for the Druid to disregard any aspect of the environment. No longer are wildflowers plucked for their beauty, to die within days on our dining room table. No longer is it an option to squash the spider in the living room who seeking warmth from the coming winter. Our entire perception is changed once we view the environment both as having its own consciousness and as we do so conscientiously. We gain both a greater and broader view of the web of existence, at the same time as finding our own place within it. How wonderful is that?

That world view brings with it a responsibility. No longer are we allowed to remain ignorant in the ways of our own environment. If we are to view it as a whole, then we must truly see every part that we also play within it. If the whole of nature has a spirit, then issues arise such as the taking of a life for food. Many within Druidry are vegetarian, if not vegan, and yet there are still many others who eat the flesh of an animal. Some do so, claiming that ethically raised and slaughtered animals for food are perfectly acceptable to put on our plates. In my own vision of Druidry, the damage caused to the environment by the raising of animals for food does not allow that luxury of thinking. It takes much more energy and resources to raise animals for food than it does to plant in the same amount of land a sustainable, organic crop for food. In giving up animal meat and animal products for both food and other commodities, we are caring more for our environment and also, at the same time, sacrificing our ignorance of the weighty issues behind such matters to become fully aware. We must accept responsibility for our part.

The word environment has many meanings, however. Our immediate response to the word is the natural environment – nature. There are many other environments, however – little worlds created by human consciousness. We have our work environment, our home environment, our villages, communities and cities. There is the issue of human to human interaction as well as interaction with nature (though as humans are a part of nature, I realise that I am contradicting myself in some ways, but please bear with me). Our own sense of self, or self-awareness, creates a thorny path through which we must navigate carefully, in order not to injure ourselves or others. Unless one lives as a hermit, the Druid will have interaction with other human beings, some Druids, some not. As with the Druid relationship with nature, sensing the inherent consciousness within it, Druidry teaches us that same sense of consciousness in human interactions. I admit - it is a lot easier for some people to respect an old oak tree than most human beings, however to be fully aware of our relationship with others we must act with a certain sense of honour, that same sense of honour, in fact, that we give to nature. We may not like some human beings, much in the same way we may not like broccoli, but we still acknowledge and respect their place in the wider web.

So how do we relate to our environment? Within Druidry, there is a beautiful Welsh word, awen. Various meanings range from flowing water to divine inspiration. I prefer the inspirational route, however, this is not an “out of the blue” inspirational experience, but one that is crafted through time and dedication to one’s environment to develop a rapport with both nature and inspiration itself, until they both work hand in hand. To the Druid, inspiration lies all around us in the environment, whichever environment that may be.

The word – inspiration – to inspire, breathe in. Breathing in must, of course, be followed by breathing out – exhalation. Breathing is the most primitive and simplest way we relate to our environment, and the most effective way of remembering that we are a part of it. The air that we breathe is also the air our ancestors breathed 50, 100, 1000 years ago. It is also the air that the willow, alders and yew trees exhaled 50, 100 or 1000 years ago. The wasp breathes in the same air, the grasses and wildflowers exhaling into the deepening twilight. We can relate to our environment by simply remembering how to breathe, what we breathe and how it is all connected. From that, we literally gain inspiration, as well as being inspired by it. The inspired Druid then exhales that inspiration, whether it be a song to the darkening skies before a thunderstorm, giving thanks before partaking in a meal, writing a symphony, throwing paint at a wall or dancing in the light of the moon. This establishes a communication between the Druid and the environment – speaking to each other, even if it is without words.

We relate to our environment though inspiration, and we are all related, as the Native American proverb says. It isn’t simply communication with our environment, but a soul-deep sense of relativity – we are all related. By being related, this instills within us a sense of responsibility, of caring for the environment, whichever one it may be. If we see that we are related to the badgers living in the brown-land area soon to be re-developed, then we also see that we must take action to ensure that they are safe. If we see that we are related to the food that we eat, we will ensure that we eat organically and, if possible, grow our own food as much as we can to develop that relationship even further. If we see that we are related to our neighbour next door, we are more likely to establish an honourable connection to them and the rest of the community. It creates a sense of caring for the environment and all within it, and it is no easy task.

The challenge that faces the Druid is to see clearly these relationships, and to act honourably in all regards. If this challenge is accepted, then the worldview is broadened considerably, as is the environment. The web of life will shimmer with inspiration along every thread. May it do so for you, all my relations.

Autumn Song

Welcoming Autumn

As I sit here, writing this, the rain taps at the window, the wind howling down the street, carrying with it the scent of winter and the first of the autumn leaves. The sky is fast moving and furious – low dark grey clouds set amidst a backdrop of pure white/grey. The central heating has been turned on. The apples are juicy on the trees. The starlings and swallows are flocking together. Welcome, Autumn.

My favourite season – as you may have guessed. From bright, sunny days where the sun shows the last of its strength, to watery, wind-filled days like these, it is a season of change like no other. Quick, altogether too quickly, it is over, at least the Fall is, when the leaves change and drop to the ground. After that, it seems Winter is here – only allowing Autumn a brief time of grace to shine in her beauty before all is blanketed under the dreamy cold slumber of Winter.

It is the beginning of October – and the hectic days of summer leading to the Equinox have passed. I feel I can almost catch my breath – almost. The main bulk of the harvest is done – both agriculturally and in a personal sense. I have worked hard this year, and the rewards have been great. There are always disappointments – from the carrots that didn’t do well to the vagaries of life. But Autumn, with her beauty, captures our hearts and our minds, our attention, and causes us to stop, to listen and watch Her before She is gone.

Samhain is just around the corner. Time to let go of that which did not come to fruition. It is also a time to carry forth and collect the seeds of our new intentions – for we cannot throw these to the winds just yet. We release the dross of our lives into the flames of Samhain fires, and protect the seeds of new ideas and next year’s harvest within the larder of our souls. We cannot release everything – we must hold onto something to take us into the new year, something to sow our intentions with. It could be lessons learned, ideas that did have the time to grow, or ideas that came too late in the season to be utilised to their full potential. And so carry them over we must.

I hope your harvest has been bountiful, and that what you carry over be blessed as well. May the release of Samhain and the dreamy slumber of winter nurture you. May you find beauty and strength in this, the most inspiring and beautiful of all seasons. May the Goddess of Autumn bring you joy as she does me. x