Druidry

Just me thinking out loud again:

To be honest modern Druidry feels a bit all-over-the-place. You have your formal Druid Colleges and formal Orders on one hand, and on the other you have the very personal amorphous informal solitary path of Druidy where anything is allowed and no previous experience is required since it’s just you. There is however the tacit rule that, much like for Hackerdom, one cannot call one’s self a Druid. The title is given when recognised by others.

So what makes that any different from anything else? Just look again at hackerdom – there are ‘formal colleges’ (MIT, CalTech, etc.) and ‘orders’ (IEEE or W3C), but then there are those who are starting-out, learning to program on their own – with a possibility to contribute more widely through the Open Source movement. But again unanimously, you can’t call yourself a hacker.

In fact, come to think of it – that rule of not being able to ‘self-proclaim’ seems to be at the heart of the concept of a diploma – you’re not conferring upon yourself the title of ‘Bachelor of XYZ’ or ‘Master of XYZ’ – it is the institution you attended which confers it upon you if it deems you to have successfully followed and assimilated its teachings.

Sure, that makes sense. Anyone going around telling others “I’m an expert in ______” will probably be ignored or rejected.  Why? Because it’s too easy to call ourselves anything we like.  It’s absurd – I can call myself the Grand Poobah of the Order of Ziggleburf – or I can go for something a little more ‘common’ and therefore misleading, like Pastor, Minister, or Father.

So in the end, you gotta ask yourself what the hell does it matter what you call yourself or are called by others?  What counts is what you do, and where you pour your time and attention.  If someone comes to you because they feel you’re knowledgeable in an area they find interesting and would like you to teach them, the best you can do is teach them to do the same thing you did: figure it out for themselves.  But can you confer a title upon them once you feel they’ve gone far enough to walk on their own path?  Again, what does it matter?

Who came up with the name Druid? Not the druids. “Druid” comes from ‘Dru-‘ which is a cognate of the English word ‘true’ and also means oak/tree and ‘wid’ which means seer – so a druid is a true seer, or one who knows the truth.  How does this tie-in to the Oak? Oak trees are an excellent source of wood – used to make ships and buildings. The Dru-wid might have been ‘that guy who knows which oak will be good for cutting’ – with that kind of mystic reverence others might have had for the druid’s knowledge of such details. A successful dru-wid might be particularly good at choosing the optimal oak trees which were built into legendary long ships? That seems plausible but has absolutely no supporting evidence – I’m just speculating.  But it is interesting that ‘dru’ meant in Anglo Saxon, both ‘truth’ and ‘tree’ I can’t really see why other than some kind of idea that a sturdy tree stands in the face of howling winds just as truth stands up to scrutiny?

So perhaps druids today should (they already do don’t they?) keep to Truth – as a point of honour, and especially True sight.  That, after all, is what we all seek on our spiritual paths. Everything else feels kind of superfluous to me. But what do I know? Nothing much and Much of Nothing.

 

Real Faith is No Faith

Real Faith

Many people (atheist and theist alike) see ‘having real faith in God’ as the complete and utter surrender to [its] omnipotence, omniscience, and omnipresence – to know in your deepest core that [it] exists and works its work in the world for you and through you.  The epitome of this ‘real’ faith should allow us to leap off a cliff and if we have ‘enough’ faith, God will find a way to intervene – be it by bringing a gust of wind that will press us against the cliff face and slow our fall (we may break many bones in our body as we bounce off rocks etc. but at least we didn’t reach terminal velocity and splat on the ground.  We’re still in a state where doctors can helps us recover), or cushion our landing (we may hit a very tall tree, and every branch on the way down, but again, at least we’re alive and can recover), or if we’re really faithful, even make us fly!

That’s not what faith should be. That’s not how it works. Jumping off a cliff and ‘having faith that it will all work out’ is stupid, and irresponsible.  God will let you fall to your death – after all, you’re the one who jumped off a cliff ya dumbass!

I don’t know whether God exists or not but I deliberately choose to believe [it] doesn’t.  Yet I am not faithless.  Why? Let me tell you how I see it. Continue reading “Real Faith is No Faith”

Reality is all …

Fill in the blank

When referring to the nature of Reality – what it’s made of – as soon as someone begins their statement “It’s all made of … ” the next word could be anything – gouda, gold, god, tao, apeiron, the force, consciousness, anything. The reason I know this is because I’ve understood what “all” means to our human brains.  The next word may as well be “all” for what it’s worth, and it would be a more honest answer because at least the speaker recognises the futility in putting a label on it.  In that light, anything you wish can be what it’s all made of – the significance lies in the fact that it is what you feel is closest to your understanding of what Reality is made of.  It becomes the context or raw material from which you make sense of the world.

My own personal struggle is trying to reconcile my modern scientific understanding of the physical world with the deeper insight of how my brain operates.  Sameness and Difference.  That is how my brain operates (and how I think we all operate at the most fundamental level).  My scientific mind interprets Sameness and Difference being ‘made of’ Transformation (in the mathematical and physical/mechanical sense) so to that part of me, “It’s all Transformation.”  But my spiritual inclination wants to say “It’s all Magic” or “It’s all Chi/Ki” or “It’s all The Force” and the two aren’t friends yet.

Trying to do something with Ki/The Force/Magic feels supremely silly and foolish because I know at the same time it’s all transformation – and transformation doesn’t behave in the way I want Magic/Ki/The Force to behave.  Magic then becomes merely my own will, and to get more banal than that seems impossible to imagine.  Sure, my ability to ‘will’ my arm to move may seem magical if we really ask ourselves how that works (the whole mind/body interaction), but my ‘will’ and thus my capacity to ‘do magic’ goes no further than my own body.  Then I have to get creative and make excuses for this ‘magic’: if I want a glass of water to appear before me, I have to “concentrate very hard” and “gather up all the strength of my willpower”, “channel” it and “release it out into the world” (i.e. I ask you to get me a glass of water), whereupon the “influence” of my magic extends outwards (you walk to the kitchen). Then my “energies will be returned back to me” (you’ve come back from the kitchen) and voilà! I have a glass of water!

Do you see how silly that is? I’m irrationalizing the rational!

However, there is a non-negligible aspect of magic when you do think of reality in those terms. There is an undeniable “power” to words that gives us pause. If my magic is my will, then I must become cautious of how I use it (what words I say out loud, what gestures and actions I use my body to effect).

But this perspective is also an open door to madness: every thought I provoke in you, every image you experience in your mind through the “descriptive power” of my words, become the very real effect, however subtle it may be.

But working of magic as none other than the cautious application of will sounds very much like Mindfulness doesn’t it?  Where one is highly conscious of one’s gestures, thoughts, and words.  Everything becomes deliberate and full of careful intent.

And thus the working of magic regains its respectability, as the phoenix of decorum rises from the ashes of folly.

So to close this with a quote I give you:

What’s in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet.

On Enlightenment

I hesitate to say I was enlightened, but damn, it sure felt like it.

Since that moment nearly six years ago, my worldview hasn’t changed that much – I still don’t believe in a sentient supreme being, but I now definitely understand why people would feel inclined to call ‘it’ a god.  Because now I feel I get ‘it’ – I’ve seen ‘it’, I’ve felt ‘it’.  By ‘it’ I mean whatever humanity has experienced in these several hundred thousand years that has kept us coming back to the concept of something ‘divine’ and put a different name to ‘it’ for each of our cultures.  From my worldview I still see red as red and a car as a car – it’s just that my understanding of it all has broadened, deepened, expanded considerably.  The ‘ah-hah’ moment blew my mind and left me sitting in a state of stupor in the middle of the pavement half-way between my home and the office.  Thankfully nobody thought I’d had a stroke or called an ambulance.  But in that deluge of insight, my brain scurried and raced to sort and handle all the tumbling truths and incredible ‘fitting’ of a million pieces of a universal puzzle of my mind, and it was very nearly overloaded, so ‘walking’ was relegated to a far lower priority.  But after it all slowed down enough, I got up, and continued my walk to my workplace, and the day went on as usual (but let’s not kid ourselves here – I was far from being ‘ho-hum’ about what I’d just experienced! I was still shaking by the time I sat down at my desk).

It is very frustrating to experience such world-rocking insight and not be able to communicate it.  I completely understand the drive one might have in ‘experiencing the word of god’ to tell others about it.  But sadly, and this is part of the greater insight, it is much more like Zen Buddhism where you cannot be told, you have to live it yourself.

So what is a person to do with their enlightenment?  Put it to workUse itLive it.  There is an old maxim which is very insulting: Those who can, do; those who can’t, teach.  Well, it should be the other way around: those who can, teach. Those who can’t, do.  That’s how Zen is taught – the student does precisely because in doing, one learns.  The challenge of teaching is knowing the right thing to do which will be conducive to learning.  And there is no one ‘great exercise’ that will allow every student to ‘get it’ – to achieve the universal insight that we call enlightenment.  Every person thinks differently, has different worldviews, and takes different pathways of thought. In an ‘all roads lead to Rome’ way, “The Truth” will be the same for everyone – but how you get there is different for everyone.

See that’s the thing about enlightenment – once you’ve experienced it, you see the other religions and realize they’re all saying the same thing – using different words:  Buddhism’s “Nirvana” is Christianity’s “Alpha and Omega” is Taoism’s “Wu” is Anaximander’s “Apeiron” is Vedic “Moksha”.  It’s all the same Truth – a truth as old as the universe itself (enlightenment is after all a deep understanding of the nature of Reality itself).

The act of seeing the parallels as they meet at infinity is why people describe enlightenment as the experience of ‘transcending’ reality – it’s a metaphor because in our mundane experience we must ‘step back’ or ‘step outside’ or ‘rise above’ a situation in order to see both sides – i.e. compare and hold things side by side – and so when one has the experience of seeing Reality as a whole, then one can only describe it as though one had ‘gone above’ or ‘outside’ or ‘beyond’ Reality in order to have done so.  But in reality, the experience of enlightenment doesn’t ‘take you’ anywhere – you’re still right where you are when you ‘left’ – be it meditating in your living room, or sitting abruptly on the pavement on your walk to work.

Enlightenment does not make you a better person.  Or it does but doesn’t. I mean I’m no better than anyone else – I’m not going to say “I’m enlightened, and you’re not” – it doesn’t work that way. I am still the same guy I was, and I still have my days.  I can still be a pain in the ass or drive my girlfriend up the wall because no matter how hard I try I’m just not in sync with her.  And there are still days where I just don’t wanna.  Enlightenment is not a way to flee your troubles – just like seeking out ‘greener pastures’ where you get there and realize you’ve brought all your ‘baggage’ with you – it doesn’t solve problems.  Instead it gives you the capacity to solve problems.  That’s a different thing isn’t it?  The old saying “Give a man a fish and you feed him for a day, but teach a man to fish and you feed him for a lifetime” – sure, but the guy still has to get off his ass and go fish.

How my Beliefs Changed

My Non-Belief

I had lived my life from a worldview which was handed to me – through education and authority (parental education/influence) – and which I had never properly questioned.  It was a world filled with the amazing discoveries of science, and a lack of a deity simply because there was no room for one.  As I grew older, I became so content with my atheism and so disgusted by theism that I began to physically manifest that disgust (actual shudders, or rolling my eyes, or an audible expression) whenever I came across the slightest mention of “God” or “Jesus” or any of the Christian words/names/concepts (merely because I lived in a Christian-majority area – my aversion would have been the same had it been Muslim or Jewish or any other theistic religion).  Understand that I never once suspected that ‘believers’ were in any way on to something that somehow the non-believers had missed.  Instead it was an instinctive rejection in reaction to the condescending attitude most ‘believers’ had towards non-believers – they pitied us, which I found reprehensible; they acted so smug and self-assured because they felt ‘wrapped in the love of God’ or whatever turn of phrase the person would use.  But that love somehow wasn’t unconditional – they were quick to reject anyone whose beliefs didn’t align with theirs, which smacked of hipocrisy which I wouldn’t accept (nevermind that I was oblivious of the hypocrisy in my own rejection of religions!).  Today, I call that period my ‘atheist adolescence’.

The change of belief

But about five years ago I experienced a very banal event that still managed to spur me into actually taking the time to stop and question my worldview.  My fiancée and I were watching one of those American sensationalist ‘documentaries’ (riddled with pre-commercial-break cliff-hangers as the American formula goes) on the topic of past lives.  It was pretty-well constructed and seemed fairly… if not convincing, at least intriguing.  And what got me thinking was this line of thought: “Suppose it was true… I don’t think my worldview can handle it.  It has answers for everything but past lives.  I don’t think I’d know how to fit it into my system of beliefs.” It then dawned on me that I didn’t actually know what my own worldview was – and so that set me off on a quest of discovery that has absolutely shattered my worldview and brought me such enriching insight that my life has been forever changed.  Now I’m far more laid-back about other people’s beliefs.  Now I respect the human being who expresses their enthusiasm for their god’s love.  I see why they might think that there is a god and especially, I see that their ‘god’ is my whatever-I-call-it.

So how about you: Do you know what your worldview is?  Do you understand how you understand?  I dare you to find out!

How to begin?

It’s a common-enough question

When starting any endeavour, the beginning is often a little nerve-racking because it is such a decisive moment. Like a brand new journal with its creamy-white pages, just waiting for the first inky stroke of the pen.

One could write anything.

The point is to write something.

Here we go…

enso