I don't know why Imbolc should be my favorite of the eight pagan holy days of the quarters and cross-quarters. I like Beltane and Samhain just fine, but there is something special about February Second. Perhaps it's when the contrast is starkest, of the grim white desert where nothing is alive, save for the one who perceives that nothing is alive! Lost in the wind of a snowy field, where great elementals shuffle the weather for a new game of generations, the small flame of life in a huddled breast feels the profoundest of gratitude. We all love Yule because it's the rebirth of the Light and a promise of the return of summer, but it is only now that we know this on a biological level, in our cells. Some deep dark magic stirs, like a seed getting ready to prepare for initiating the preliminaries of germination. From now on, signs of spring are real and not hallucinatory -- soon the weeping willows will take on a golden glow over their leafless limbs, and soon thereafter the mapled hills tinge themselves subtly ruddy.
My friend and teacher, James I. Ford, Zen Man and the very icon of a New England Unitarian Minister, has a wonderful tribute to Brigid, the saint and the goddess, whose feast time is now, which is well worth experiencing. It's over at Monkey Mind Online, .
In times past, twice, pagan groups had approached me in email to ask to use a poem from my sometimes manifest personal Website, with the title Imbolc. Such flattery tends to win my assent. I though it good to publish the poem again here. Anyone can use it, providing they credit me and let me know.
Stay warm by your hearth, cherish your beloved ones, and finally dare to dream of spring.
Imbolc
It's not yet spring but you awake
the yearning in me that
will not wait for warm breezes
A candle in a cave--
in snowy fields, a lone prayer
for the town asleep below the hill
One stands at the ocean,
calling forth the tide
to rise once more in bay and blood
Two meet on a road in the dark
and walk into windless groves where
dryads keep to dream, and wait
The candle ignites the sky to pink--
the spirits stir within
the chambers of the twigs
Monday, February 1, 2010
Sunday, November 29, 2009
Belief & Knowledge
Date: Sun, 15 Feb 2009 11:59:42 -0800 (PST)
From: Robin Edgar
Robin Edgar has left a new comment on your post "What do you believe in?":
Q: Do you believe in God?
A: No.
Q: So, you are an atheist!
A: No.
It occurs to me that this would be an appropriate response from someone who knows that God exists as a result of direct personal experience of God. . . Carl Gustav Jung being just one example amongst many others.
***
My response to Robin Edgar:
Correct in that one who knows has no need of belief, which is held to be a less certain state of mind than knowledge. But distinguishing knowledge and belief is very difficult, if possible at all.
Direct experience is certainly the best way to attempt certainty, but there is no way to acquire absolute certainty in a logically compelling way. At first glance, an epiphany, a personal experience of the divine, would seem to be absolutely convincing, but in its bare experience it belongs only to the one who has the epiphany. All others must be content with hearing about it, and, if it's important to do so, they must decide whether to believe or not, and how much. Even the person with the epiphany can question it, for people in dreaming, or in psychosis, can be utterly convinced of realities that fade with awakening or the reemergence of sanity. In my own experience, I have found it impossible to know for sure that one is not dreaming at any given moment.
Let me tell a little story, that I assure you is completely factual.
An adherent of Asatru named Dirk is indulging in some aquavit in a bar in Norway, when an interesting character shows up and sits on the stool next to him. The guy introduces himself as Odin and offers to buy him a horn of mead. Dirk is a modern man and will not simply take even a god's word at face value, though this fellow may certainly look the part and exude divine charisma all over the place. Although he gladly accepts the horn, he asks for some proof of godship before accepting that claim. Odin pulls out a deck of cards and starts shuffling. "Something more dramatic than a card trick," asks Dirk. Waggling his white eyebrows, the old man laughs, "As you say!"
The day turns dark, and the wind picks up, even inside the bar. The shimmering form of Freya appears hovering before our friend Dirk. Never has he seen any female so beautiful! She reaches out and he feels her hand take his. She says only, "Come!" and the bar and Odin disappear. Freya remains, but Dirk is no longer sure that he does. She leads him to spaces and places where wild fires roar with the heat of billions of exploding stars, and she takes him by still waters where peace is so profound you can heal all of eternity's heart's wounds. She takes him to her rainbowed bed and lets him make love to her until he forgets his humanity on the spill of amrita through his veins and out his loins. And then, Dirk spent and content, she takes him back to the bar where the funny old man with the white beard is chortling into his mead.
When Freya disappears and all is as before, he asks, "Better than a card trick?" After a moment to gather his wits, Dirk says, "Could be proof you're a pretty good hypnotist!" The All-Father shouts, "That's my boy!" and continues:
Dirk nods and says, "Now I can believe you're the All-Father. Still a pretty good hypnotist, though."
***
Now, maybe there is some direct way of knowing, bypassing the senses and any other medium. But how would the knower know this knowing is true? You can say that such knowing is self-validating, and I bet it sure is! But self-validation can also occurs in psychosis. You say this is not true self-validation? Please show me the difference!
This is one reason why traditions such as Zen set such high value on a teacher's validation of one's insights. Even so, a teacher's validation may be just another hallucination.
Give up the quest for certainty, I say . . . settle for a measure of consistency in your dreams!
From: Robin Edgar
Robin Edgar has left a new comment on your post "What do you believe in?":
Q: Do you believe in God?
A: No.
Q: So, you are an atheist!
A: No.
It occurs to me that this would be an appropriate response from someone who knows that God exists as a result of direct personal experience of God. . . Carl Gustav Jung being just one example amongst many others.
***
My response to Robin Edgar:
Correct in that one who knows has no need of belief, which is held to be a less certain state of mind than knowledge. But distinguishing knowledge and belief is very difficult, if possible at all.
Direct experience is certainly the best way to attempt certainty, but there is no way to acquire absolute certainty in a logically compelling way. At first glance, an epiphany, a personal experience of the divine, would seem to be absolutely convincing, but in its bare experience it belongs only to the one who has the epiphany. All others must be content with hearing about it, and, if it's important to do so, they must decide whether to believe or not, and how much. Even the person with the epiphany can question it, for people in dreaming, or in psychosis, can be utterly convinced of realities that fade with awakening or the reemergence of sanity. In my own experience, I have found it impossible to know for sure that one is not dreaming at any given moment.
Let me tell a little story, that I assure you is completely factual.
An adherent of Asatru named Dirk is indulging in some aquavit in a bar in Norway, when an interesting character shows up and sits on the stool next to him. The guy introduces himself as Odin and offers to buy him a horn of mead. Dirk is a modern man and will not simply take even a god's word at face value, though this fellow may certainly look the part and exude divine charisma all over the place. Although he gladly accepts the horn, he asks for some proof of godship before accepting that claim. Odin pulls out a deck of cards and starts shuffling. "Something more dramatic than a card trick," asks Dirk. Waggling his white eyebrows, the old man laughs, "As you say!"
The day turns dark, and the wind picks up, even inside the bar. The shimmering form of Freya appears hovering before our friend Dirk. Never has he seen any female so beautiful! She reaches out and he feels her hand take his. She says only, "Come!" and the bar and Odin disappear. Freya remains, but Dirk is no longer sure that he does. She leads him to spaces and places where wild fires roar with the heat of billions of exploding stars, and she takes him by still waters where peace is so profound you can heal all of eternity's heart's wounds. She takes him to her rainbowed bed and lets him make love to her until he forgets his humanity on the spill of amrita through his veins and out his loins. And then, Dirk spent and content, she takes him back to the bar where the funny old man with the white beard is chortling into his mead.
When Freya disappears and all is as before, he asks, "Better than a card trick?" After a moment to gather his wits, Dirk says, "Could be proof you're a pretty good hypnotist!" The All-Father shouts, "That's my boy!" and continues:
All we have, inside and outside of us, is appearances. We play a game of "as if," relying on consistencies as we perceive them, to gain the appearance of pleasure and avoid the appearance of pain. The truth lies behind a screen where the shadows of puppets play, and even if you could peer behind the screen, how can you know you see more than just more shadows?
Dirk nods and says, "Now I can believe you're the All-Father. Still a pretty good hypnotist, though."
***
Now, maybe there is some direct way of knowing, bypassing the senses and any other medium. But how would the knower know this knowing is true? You can say that such knowing is self-validating, and I bet it sure is! But self-validation can also occurs in psychosis. You say this is not true self-validation? Please show me the difference!
This is one reason why traditions such as Zen set such high value on a teacher's validation of one's insights. Even so, a teacher's validation may be just another hallucination.
Give up the quest for certainty, I say . . . settle for a measure of consistency in your dreams!
Tuesday, July 1, 2008
What do you believe in?
Q: Do you believe in God?
A: No.
Q: So, you are an atheist!
A: No.
Q: Then what do you believe in?
A: As little as possible.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~O~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
We tend to frame things we encounter into patterns familiar to us. Nowhere is it so obvious as when we regard other religions.
Once, at Sinte Gleska College in Mission, South Dakota, I perused the library for Lakota creation myths. As befits a large and socially complex people, there were several widely disparate stories.
A bit later, at Pine Ridge Reservation, I conversed with a fellow named Red Cloud. He pointed to the car in which his old girl friend sat, telling me she was visiting the rez from Sacramento, where she had moved to work. He told me the three teenagers in the backseat were her children. The youngest and the oldest, he said with chest-swelling pride, were his. Certainly a fellow with a broad view of things, though perhaps it was more a cultural thing than personal. I told him about the eleven different creation myths I had uncovered at Mission. Uh-huh, he said. Which did he believe? Unhesitatingly, he replied, All of them!
The general frame of the monotheisms of the Western culture sees religion primarily as what a person believes to be ultimately true of reality. What you believe determines your tribe, and vice versa. But you can sort religions in one particular way into those based on doctrine, and those based on pragmatic experience. Those that determine your membership in a flock determined by your submission and acceptance of a set of dogmas and the authority that promotes them, and those that are a path you follow by taking up a prescribed practice.
We are used to inquire about religious teaching with, Is it true? Of course, the answer is mostly No! with regard to someone else's religion. But with a religion like Buddhism, the emphasis is more on, Is it useful? Will it help me get down the road to liberation?
The romantic philosophic notion that what is most true is obviously the most helpful, might itself be true — if only proving something true or false were not so often so devilishly difficult, and fraught with distortions caused by emotional bias. Much easier just to try something and see if it works. Best of all is to see what works by transparent methodology and consistent analysis.
At least, that's what I believe.
A: No.
Q: So, you are an atheist!
A: No.
Q: Then what do you believe in?
A: As little as possible.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~O~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
We tend to frame things we encounter into patterns familiar to us. Nowhere is it so obvious as when we regard other religions.
Once, at Sinte Gleska College in Mission, South Dakota, I perused the library for Lakota creation myths. As befits a large and socially complex people, there were several widely disparate stories.
A bit later, at Pine Ridge Reservation, I conversed with a fellow named Red Cloud. He pointed to the car in which his old girl friend sat, telling me she was visiting the rez from Sacramento, where she had moved to work. He told me the three teenagers in the backseat were her children. The youngest and the oldest, he said with chest-swelling pride, were his. Certainly a fellow with a broad view of things, though perhaps it was more a cultural thing than personal. I told him about the eleven different creation myths I had uncovered at Mission. Uh-huh, he said. Which did he believe? Unhesitatingly, he replied, All of them!
The general frame of the monotheisms of the Western culture sees religion primarily as what a person believes to be ultimately true of reality. What you believe determines your tribe, and vice versa. But you can sort religions in one particular way into those based on doctrine, and those based on pragmatic experience. Those that determine your membership in a flock determined by your submission and acceptance of a set of dogmas and the authority that promotes them, and those that are a path you follow by taking up a prescribed practice.
We are used to inquire about religious teaching with, Is it true? Of course, the answer is mostly No! with regard to someone else's religion. But with a religion like Buddhism, the emphasis is more on, Is it useful? Will it help me get down the road to liberation?
The romantic philosophic notion that what is most true is obviously the most helpful, might itself be true — if only proving something true or false were not so often so devilishly difficult, and fraught with distortions caused by emotional bias. Much easier just to try something and see if it works. Best of all is to see what works by transparent methodology and consistent analysis.
At least, that's what I believe.
Thursday, February 28, 2008
The Newport Fish
The note on the scarf says:
DEAR FISH!
WE THOUGHT YOU LOOKED SO COLD SITTING HERE SO WE ASKED GRANDMA L. TO CROCHET YOU SOME FIN MITTENS AND A SCARF TO KEEP YOU WARM THIS WINTER. WE HOPE THIS WILL BE THE "FIRST ANNUAL DRESSING OF THE FISH" IN NEWPORT, VERMONT.LOVE, YOUR FRIENDS
JANUARY 2008
JANUARY 2008
Shy spring has hied back to the shadows of the snow-heavy trees. This is this morning's picture chez moi:
Monday, February 25, 2008
Signs of Spring
Last week, a flock of birds was wheeling and landing on the grain elevators by the railroad tracks in Newport. Last night, I saw these deer cavorting in a field as the sun lowered. Several days this past week had temperatures above freezing.
Perhaps, we can really think about spring without getting our hopes dashed?
Sunday, February 24, 2008
The Border
This is the chorus to "Immigration Man" by Graham Nash:
"Let me in, immigration man
Can I cross the line and pray
I can stay another day
Let me in, immigration man
I won't toe your line today
I can't see it anyway . . . "
But you can!
This is a shot westward on Caswell Ave./Valley Rd, just east of Derby Line. The border is just to the right along the road at this spot. Lake Memphremagog is down there, invisible. Across the lake, that's the southern end of Bear Mountain, with the border slash highlighted by snow. And that where the fence will be, if we keep electing Republican oil executives for president.
The Canadians like us, mostly, but they think we're nuts for electing the people that we have.
"Let me in, immigration man
Can I cross the line and pray
I can stay another day
Let me in, immigration man
I won't toe your line today
I can't see it anyway . . . "
But you can!
This is a shot westward on Caswell Ave./Valley Rd, just east of Derby Line. The border is just to the right along the road at this spot. Lake Memphremagog is down there, invisible. Across the lake, that's the southern end of Bear Mountain, with the border slash highlighted by snow. And that where the fence will be, if we keep electing Republican oil executives for president.
The Canadians like us, mostly, but they think we're nuts for electing the people that we have.
Friday, February 22, 2008
Snow
The defining element of reality around here (Orleans County, Vermont) is winter. The most visible manifestation of winter is snow.
Not every winter has lots of snow — some are just plain cold. Snow is good for the dormant plants; it insulates their roots and tubers from killing cold. Lots of it this winter. Blame it on La Niña.
Occult mappings of correspondences equate the season of winter with dying and death. Ultimate interiority. Many people get a little crazy with boredom about now, and that's called "cabin fever." Some are fortunate to have pastimes that can make use of the long winter hours, like reading, or crafts, or zazen.
The joy of spring is never so intense in places that have no intense winter. One unkind friend suggested it was equivalent to the relief one feels when ceasing to hit oneself in the head with a hammer. Whenever I visit California, friends ask me if I've come to live there for good, and are perplexed when I answer "No." Winter is as natural to me as breathing out after breathing in, and I sorely missed it when I lived without it.
One can die here in winter without much carelessness. Once I was caring for someone's house and outside it was thirty below, Fahrenheit (-34°C). Firewood was stored in an outdoor shed. I went out to get some. The storm door slammed and locked itself. All I was wearing for outdoors over my upper torso was a hooded sweatshirt. I thought fast. I might have ten minutes before my fingers were numb and useless. None of the neighbors closer than a quarter-mile away were home this holiday weekend. Didn't want to break a window — then I'd have to deal with closing up that hole and paying for a new pane. Then I remembered seeing a screwdriver in the garage. I ran and got it, and managed to pop the door without any damage. I got to the stove just as my fingers began to ache.
It was a social thing with the high schoolers around here to wear as little as possible in the winter. I've seen kids in shorts and t-shirts pumping gas at ten below. But you never know when a car will break down, and you can be rather far from even a stranger's warm house.
Then there's the roads. Some winters I'd spin out five times, ending up immobilized in a snowbank, waiting for a fellow resident to come by with a tow chain. Got to meet a lot of people that way.
After the middle of February, you let yourself think about spring. Not much longer, and the temperatures will regularly be above freezing in the day, and the vast banks of dirty, crusty, stuff that used to be pristine snow will start to shrink. It's a joy to look at the faces of your fellow human beings, then. You know they feel the same joy as you. Even if it is kind of perverse to prefer living in an icebox like Vermont.
Speaking of, around 1994, the following made it's way around the Internet. I don't think anybody's claimed copyright. It does give one a certain, uh, feel for the place.
August 12
Moved to our new house in Vermont. It is so
beautiful here. The mountains are so majestic and
serene. Can hardly wait to see them with snow. God's
country for sure.
Oct 14
Vermont is the most beautiful place on earth.
Leaves are turning all different colors. Love the
shades of red and orange. Went for a ride through the
mountains and saw some deer. So graceful. The most
beautiful animals on earth. This is paradise!
Nov 11
Deer season will open soon. Why would anyone want
to kill such an elegant creature? The very symbol of
peace and tranquillity. Hope it will snow soon. Love it
here.
Dec 2
Snowed last night. Woke up to find everything
blanketed with snow. Looks like a postcard. Went outside
and shoveled the driveway. Had a snowball fight (I
won). The snowplow came by and we had to shovel the
driveway again. What a beautiful place. Mother Nature
in perfect harmony. I love Vermont.
Dec 12
More snow last night! I love it. The snowplow did
his trick again (that rascal). A winter wonderland. I
like it here so much.
Dec 19
Snowed again last night. Couldn't get out of the
driveway to get to work this time. I'm exhausted from
shoveling. Damn snowplow.
Dec 22
More of that white shit today. Got blisters on my
hands from shoveling. I think the snowplow driver hides
around the corner waiting for me to finish shoveling.
What an asshole!
Dec 25
"White Christmas" my busted ass! More friggin snow.
If I ever get my hands on the son-of-a-bitch that
drives the snowplow I swear I'll strangle him! Why
don't they use more salt on the roads to melt the ice?
Country hicks.
Dec 29
More snow. I hate the stuff! Been inside since
Christmas Day, except for shoveling the driveway every
time "Snowplow Harry" comes by. Can't go anywhere.
Car's burried under a mountain of snow. Weatherman says
ten more inches tonight. Do you know how many shovels
full of snow ten inches is? I hate it.
Jan 1
"Happy Friggin New Year!" Weatherman was wrong
again. Got 32" of the stuff this time. It won't melt
until July. Snowplow got stuck up the road, and the
dumb bastard had the nerve to ask to borrow a snow
shovel. I told him I'd already broken five of them
shoveling all the snow he pushed into the driveway.
Smashed the last one over his head. Stupid ass!
Jan 18
Finally got out of the house. Went to the store to
get food and on the way back a deer ran in front of the
car and I hit the bastard. Did $3000 damage to the car.
Those goddam useless animals should all be killed.
Hunters didn't do their job last November. Next year I
get a hunting license!
May 3
Took the car to the garage in town. Would you
believe the thing is rotting from all the salt they
dumped on the roads? What a bunch of morons. Everyone
knows salt destroys cars. Car looks like crap.
May 15
Moved to Florida. Can't imagine why anyone would
want to live in a Godforsaken icebox like Vermont.
You've got to be crazy to live there!
Not every winter has lots of snow — some are just plain cold. Snow is good for the dormant plants; it insulates their roots and tubers from killing cold. Lots of it this winter. Blame it on La Niña.
Occult mappings of correspondences equate the season of winter with dying and death. Ultimate interiority. Many people get a little crazy with boredom about now, and that's called "cabin fever." Some are fortunate to have pastimes that can make use of the long winter hours, like reading, or crafts, or zazen.
The joy of spring is never so intense in places that have no intense winter. One unkind friend suggested it was equivalent to the relief one feels when ceasing to hit oneself in the head with a hammer. Whenever I visit California, friends ask me if I've come to live there for good, and are perplexed when I answer "No." Winter is as natural to me as breathing out after breathing in, and I sorely missed it when I lived without it.
One can die here in winter without much carelessness. Once I was caring for someone's house and outside it was thirty below, Fahrenheit (-34°C). Firewood was stored in an outdoor shed. I went out to get some. The storm door slammed and locked itself. All I was wearing for outdoors over my upper torso was a hooded sweatshirt. I thought fast. I might have ten minutes before my fingers were numb and useless. None of the neighbors closer than a quarter-mile away were home this holiday weekend. Didn't want to break a window — then I'd have to deal with closing up that hole and paying for a new pane. Then I remembered seeing a screwdriver in the garage. I ran and got it, and managed to pop the door without any damage. I got to the stove just as my fingers began to ache.
It was a social thing with the high schoolers around here to wear as little as possible in the winter. I've seen kids in shorts and t-shirts pumping gas at ten below. But you never know when a car will break down, and you can be rather far from even a stranger's warm house.
Then there's the roads. Some winters I'd spin out five times, ending up immobilized in a snowbank, waiting for a fellow resident to come by with a tow chain. Got to meet a lot of people that way.
After the middle of February, you let yourself think about spring. Not much longer, and the temperatures will regularly be above freezing in the day, and the vast banks of dirty, crusty, stuff that used to be pristine snow will start to shrink. It's a joy to look at the faces of your fellow human beings, then. You know they feel the same joy as you. Even if it is kind of perverse to prefer living in an icebox like Vermont.
Speaking of, around 1994, the following made it's way around the Internet. I don't think anybody's claimed copyright. It does give one a certain, uh, feel for the place.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~O~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
FLATLANDERS DIARY
August 12
Moved to our new house in Vermont. It is so
beautiful here. The mountains are so majestic and
serene. Can hardly wait to see them with snow. God's
country for sure.
Oct 14
Vermont is the most beautiful place on earth.
Leaves are turning all different colors. Love the
shades of red and orange. Went for a ride through the
mountains and saw some deer. So graceful. The most
beautiful animals on earth. This is paradise!
Nov 11
Deer season will open soon. Why would anyone want
to kill such an elegant creature? The very symbol of
peace and tranquillity. Hope it will snow soon. Love it
here.
Dec 2
Snowed last night. Woke up to find everything
blanketed with snow. Looks like a postcard. Went outside
and shoveled the driveway. Had a snowball fight (I
won). The snowplow came by and we had to shovel the
driveway again. What a beautiful place. Mother Nature
in perfect harmony. I love Vermont.
Dec 12
More snow last night! I love it. The snowplow did
his trick again (that rascal). A winter wonderland. I
like it here so much.
Dec 19
Snowed again last night. Couldn't get out of the
driveway to get to work this time. I'm exhausted from
shoveling. Damn snowplow.
Dec 22
More of that white shit today. Got blisters on my
hands from shoveling. I think the snowplow driver hides
around the corner waiting for me to finish shoveling.
What an asshole!
Dec 25
"White Christmas" my busted ass! More friggin snow.
If I ever get my hands on the son-of-a-bitch that
drives the snowplow I swear I'll strangle him! Why
don't they use more salt on the roads to melt the ice?
Country hicks.
Dec 29
More snow. I hate the stuff! Been inside since
Christmas Day, except for shoveling the driveway every
time "Snowplow Harry" comes by. Can't go anywhere.
Car's burried under a mountain of snow. Weatherman says
ten more inches tonight. Do you know how many shovels
full of snow ten inches is? I hate it.
Jan 1
"Happy Friggin New Year!" Weatherman was wrong
again. Got 32" of the stuff this time. It won't melt
until July. Snowplow got stuck up the road, and the
dumb bastard had the nerve to ask to borrow a snow
shovel. I told him I'd already broken five of them
shoveling all the snow he pushed into the driveway.
Smashed the last one over his head. Stupid ass!
Jan 18
Finally got out of the house. Went to the store to
get food and on the way back a deer ran in front of the
car and I hit the bastard. Did $3000 damage to the car.
Those goddam useless animals should all be killed.
Hunters didn't do their job last November. Next year I
get a hunting license!
May 3
Took the car to the garage in town. Would you
believe the thing is rotting from all the salt they
dumped on the roads? What a bunch of morons. Everyone
knows salt destroys cars. Car looks like crap.
May 15
Moved to Florida. Can't imagine why anyone would
want to live in a Godforsaken icebox like Vermont.
You've got to be crazy to live there!
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