ISSN
1745 -4891
THE QUARTERLY JOURNAL OF THE KITH OF YGGDRASIL
Issue 5 Summer Solstice Edition June 2005
CONTENTS
MAGAZINE SECTION
The Runes, part one by
Alan Nash Pages 4-6
Celebrating Spiritual Difference by Mike King Pages
7-8
Zen Odinism by Steve and Lyn Pages 8-9
Rune Poem by Alan Nash Page
10
Are the Gods Real? By Harald Gudmundsson Pages 11-15
The Way of Wyrd a report by Claire Bellenis Pages 16-17
Sven the Voyager Page
18
EDITORIAL POLICY & THE Back Cover
SUBMISSION OF CONTRIBUTIONS
CONTACT INFORMATION Back Cover
Editorial
Already
the year has reached its turn from the beginning of growth to its maturity, and
we begin to look forward to the harvest, and we begin too to see just what it
is we will reap from what we have sown.
That
sounds extremely portentous, but I suppose we are all aware of the importance
of getting the sowing right, and hoping for the goodwill of the gods and
goddesses in bringing us our harvest in abundance. In former times, of course,
the king would have been in a state of particular tension at about this time,
and would have been hoping fervently for a good harvest – the consequences for
himself, as well as for the rest of the population, being a bit on the dire
side if things went wrong. Some might
say that this is a custom we should bring back from the old days, but I think
that I can hear the voice of Mike suggesting that I avoid politics and move on
to this quarter’s Sunwheel instead.
At
this time of year I think that it’s important to avoid light reading for
relaxation (my motto is ‘Never Go With The Flow’), and I have therefore
included several articles that will be challenging rather than entertaining.
Continuing
our practical approach to developing our spirituality, Alan has begun a series
of articles on the runes which will be useful for those of you who are
exploring this path.
Mike
King, from the
Steve
and I have tried to explain our own particular take on Odinism, through a
description of what happens during our blots down here in the deep west. As you
will see, this does not take the ‘traditional’ form, and this is partly why we
thought it important to open up the question of what we all do and why we do
it.
In
view of frequent outcries against ‘archetypes’, Harald has looked at how our
minds perceive experience, and how Jungian psychology can help our
understanding of the (very real) gods rather than, as is so often believed,
explaining them out of existence.
I hope that all this will give you some interesting pathways to explore over the summer months, and I look forward to hearing your views on some of the subjects this issue covers.
Lyn
The
Runes – Part One: - by Alan Nash
It is notoriously difficult for anyone to create a
set of rune definitions that satisfies everyone. The very nature of the runic
alphabet lends itself to subjective and private interpretation. Having said that,
where would we be without the scholarship of runic studies? We all need a
starting point, and as long as those scholarly interpretations are based on the
known facts, without embellishment, I feel they are a perfectly legitimate
source for us to use. There are also a few acceptable interpretations from
within the Heathen community, based on the facts but returned to the religious
context from which the runes originate. Apart from the actual rune poems, this
is all we have to go on from a practical point of view. Anyone publishing an
article or book of rune definitions should use this evidence, and then allow
the practitioner to move on by themselves. It is impossible for a writer to
define the runes without including some of their own embellishments (we all
interpret differently), but what follows is an attempted bare-bones
interpretation of the Elder Futhark, designed to leave much work for the runic
practitioner. As it should be.
First
Aett
It seems clear that the first aett represents the
journey of an initiate into either life itself, or the runic mysteries. It
takes us from unformed thought, through chaos, into structured citizenship. The
aett is named after the Vanic God ‘Frey,’ who, interestingly, as lord of the
Elves, is associated with the life-force in all living things (including
humans), as is the very first rune of the alphabet.
Fehu
(Phonetic value: ‘f’; Traditional meaning: ‘Cattle.’)
Fehu refers to perishable wealth. Money, retail stock and any liquid assets,
but specifically these as a means of subsistence.[1]
By their very nature these assets must be renewed. The rune poems tell us that
any wealth we possess must be spread about freely (used for collective
benefit). Behind this practical meaning lies a reference to the ‘life force’ of
the human, that energy which runs through all living things (the cosmic fire
from which we, and the universe, were created). To an ancient Heathen the
amount of life force one possessed would be measurable by their Earthly
success, thus material wealth displays a healthy life force. The warning to
spread ones money about freely applies here also. In order for our life force
to remain strong, we must live honourable lives. This means working for the
collective benefit of one’s community. Our earthly wealth will only increase if
our life force increases, and vice-versa. Thus through generosity and
honourable action we send out a positive life force into the world (because we
are working in harmony with the natural way of things), and a positive life
force will be returned to us in the manner of health and, hopefully, wealth.
So the first lesson of the initiate is to work in
harmony with the natural cycles of the universe. This means learning the secret
of the life force/cosmic fire.
Uruz
(Phonetic value: ‘u’; Traditional meaning: ‘Aurochs.’)
In ancient times the slaying of an aurochs was considered a feat of great
bravery and strength. It appears to have been a trial set for young men, and
would bring them great prestige if successful. Thus Uruz was thought to
represent a kind of ‘manly strength.’ It is a rune of physical ability, skill,
inner courage, and endurance. It is symbolic of an initiation into society (or
into the runic mysteries), and represents the formation of the willed ego, the
ability to project one’s desires onto the world and make them come true.
Learning the ways of Uruz will mean one has the virility and strength to be a
good member of society.
Thurisaz (Phonetic value: ‘th;’
Traditional meaning: ‘giant.’)
Thurisaz symbolises those giants who are in direct opposition to the Gods.
These giants are a personification of chaos, and the unstructured forces that
lie outside the ordered world. They are destructive and brutal. Thus Thurisaz
is a rune of uncontrolled power. Power wielded without thought of consequence.
This does not mean the giants[2]
are ‘evil,’ simply instinctual and without reason. They dwell outside the world
of language and symbolic order. They are the primal energies of cosmic chaos.
Many associate the rune with Thor (Thunor), from the fact that Mjollnir (his
hammer) represents this chaotic force used in counterbalance, back against the
giants. Uruz was the structured will. Thurisaz is the instinctual will. Useful
maybe, but it must be guarded against.
Ansuz
(Phonetic value: ‘a;’ Traditional meaning: ‘god;’ ‘Aesir.’)
Ansuz stands for the order, reason and intellect of the Gods. The best example
of this is language itself, and the ability to communicate. It is a rune of
learning, teaching, and all actions where messages need to be conveyed. It is
the first rune in the trio of Ansuz/Raido/Kenaz, all runes of learning and
understanding. It opens the way to enlightenment and forms the initial steps of
the learning journey into deep wisdom. With Thurisaz we saw the still
unstructured mind of the initiate. Ansuz represents those first building blocks
out of chaos, into understanding. It may also refer to not only human
communication, but that between the human and the ‘divine.’ The language of
galdr and magic as expressions of spiritual intellect.
Raido
(Phonetic value: ‘r;’ Traditional meaning: ‘riding;’ ‘chariot.’)
Raido is associated with journeys, especially
lengthy ones. It works in conjunction with the runes either side of it: Ansuz,
which sets you on the road to knowledge, and Kenaz, which is the end result of
that journey. Raido is the rune of good counsel on the journey of life. If we
ensure good counsel, then we can make reasoned and balanced judgements. It is a
rune of learning, and its wisdom helps to ensure the right course of action is
taken in life. This wisdom is the force of natural law, represented by the path
of the Sun chariot. The lesson to learn is one of ‘cosmic right.’ Go in harmony
with the ways of nature and you will always find the correct path. If we have knowledge
of these ‘laws,’ then we are able to manipulate our fates within their
boundaries, without the risk of moving too far out of step with nature and
Wyrd.
Kenaz
(Phonetic value: ‘k’ or hard ‘c;’ Traditional meaning: ‘torch.’)
Kenaz is the rune of enlightenment. It is the end
result of Ansuz and Raido, and a guiding light into the realm of knowledge and
understanding. Dispelling confusion and gaining insight is the business of
Kenaz. It represents the stage of the initiate’s journey from which they can
begin to teach themselves, and others. They have become self-sufficient and no
longer need the guiding hand of a master. Overall it represents
self-initiative. Using the skill and ability one has gained, and making one’s
own decisions.
Gebo
(Phonetic Value: ‘g;’ Traditional meaning: ‘gift.’)
Gebo is about creating bonds between members of
society. It teaches us that mutual support is for the benefit of all, and
advantageous to us as individuals. It is a rune of kinship and growth; moving
on in life to form extended families and friendships. It shows us that living
in harmony with others is a desired state of being. Once we have been initiated
and gained wisdom, we must then fit into our societal role, passing on the
knowledge we have gained. A gift for a gift. This role requires compromise, and
conformity – working with others to maintain the strength of society.
Sacrificing one’s free time for the greater good. Again this shows how
important the natural way of things is. Perpetuating the cycle of gift and
return gift in order to create a healthy, communal life force. Service, loyalty
and dedication to the Gods (and thus to nature) increases this life force and
maintains ordered society.
Wunjo
(Phonetic value: ‘w;’ Traditional meaning: ‘joy;’ ‘pasture.’)
Wunjo is a culmination of the process undergone in
the seven previous runes. It has been variously translated as ‘joy,’
‘perfection,’ and ‘pasture,’ but all three interpretations point to the same
meaning: the fulfilment of material and spiritual wishes. It stands for the
natural harmony created when one follows the runic example of the first aett.
Society is working perfectly and is healthy and prosperous. From an individual
perspective it is symbolic of the initiate’s total (successful) integration
into society, or the runic mysteries. On a collective level it shows a
community in harmony with divine law. A community with an abundance of life
force created by generous and honourable behaviour.
Celebrating
Spiritual Difference – by Mike King
Centre for
Postsecular Studies,
I sometimes joke that I am an Eastern
mind trapped in a Western body, but I could as well say a Neolithic mind
trapped in a modern body. By this I mean that I respond as readily to the
spiritualities of the East and of ancient times as I do to the more recent
invention of monotheism. In fact I do have a profound respect for the three
religions of the Book (Judaism, Christianity and Islam), but, rather like the
parent of a gifted but sometimes wilfully selfish child, I am compelled to urge
restraint on the Abrahamic monotheisms. This is because their doctrines reject
four out of the five key modalities of the spirit, these five being – in a sort
of historical order – shamanism / animism, Goddess polytheism, warrior
polytheism, monotheism, and the unitive/transcendent. The latter is well
represented by a spiritual teacher like Eckhart and the Buddha, but it is the
first three on my list that are of more interest here.
Christianity, inheriting the Judaic
rejection of ‘idolatry,’ came to use the terms ‘pagan’ and ‘heathen’ to lump
together and vilify earlier spiritualities, with the result that the secular
mind is as much prejudiced against them as the Christian. At the same time we
have forgotten that there was as much if not more spiritual difference between
the earlier forms as between them and monotheism – there is a loss of richness.
Hence I like to consider pre-monotheistic religions in three aspects as a way
of beginning to restore that richness, and also to consider the painful
transitions from one to another.
Firstly the shamanic/animistic
spirituality was that of the hunter-gatherer, and it saw all of existence as
imbued with spirits – specific spirits (of animals, trees, mountains etc.). The
key to living lay in negotiation with these spirits, including those of the
ancestors: the shaman, whether man or woman, had a particular gift for this.
As horticulture was discovered
(approximately in the Bronze Age) spirituality moved into a new phase of
Goddess polytheism, where the individual spirits became abstracted into deities
representing aspects of the natural world – particularly those of fertility and
renewal.
With the so-called ‘Kurgan’ invasions
from the North (approximating to the onset of the Iron Age), India and the
Mediterranean shifted spiritual gear towards warrior polytheism, resulting in
the move to patriarchy that we are only just witnessing the end of. The
abstraction of specific and localised spirits progressed into universal
principles or deities, particularly of war. (The singer Maria Callas
beautifully portrays Medea in Pasolini’s film of the same name, representing
the anguish of goddess spirituality displaced by the masculine principle.)
Monotheism (in the West) took only the
principle of a warrior ‘sky-god’ and elevated him to sole deity, along with a
total rejection of the previous spiritualities. “Thou shalt not suffer a witch
to live” it says in Exodus 22:18, and the theme is reinforced a thousand times
in the Old Testament, that the ancient gifts of spirit-conversation,
divination, and healing were to be crushed out of existence. Yet, as the Earth
now cries out against its betrayal, we desperately need the old skills to hear
the voices of the spirits; the old sensibilities which were grounded in a world
where all was alive, and where the ‘dead matter’ of science had not yet weighed
on our hearts.
Mike Robertson, in his lovely article The Alfar of Our Faith, points to these
ancient skills, and to the centrality of the spirits to the faith. I was on the last peak of the Rax in the
Austrian Alps at Christmas, in a blizzard, and as I walked away up the valley
to the train station the peak seemed to curiously maintain its towering presence.
Dimly but clearly its spirit spoke to me: “do all in your power to make our
voices heard, the ancient voices of the Earth.” So I do what I can do, which is
to talk wherever I can about spiritual difference, and about celebrating it.
Zen Odinism – or What We Do and Why We Do It
by Steve and Lyn
“What do we do and why do we do it?” Not unreasonable
questions you might think, but in my experience these are the questions that belief often experiences as
uncomfortable. Most of us coming to the heathen path will have been exposed (if
only in a nominal sense) to some other form of religion - probably
Christianity. So how do we move from the position of feeling inspired by a
mythology/literature/ideal which isn’t part of the mainstream of our society,
to the place where we can formally pay homage (if not worship) to those things
which are given form by the new philosophy we have embraced, and what should
that exercise entail?
Lying at the heart of the question of what our
spiritual expression should look, feel or sound like is ultimately our view of
what the divine is. Are the Gods and Goddesses distinct beings, or are they
encultured personifications of principles experienced in the universe (or are
they both?) and what do we think these beings or principles want from us. Is
our simple acknowledgement of these beings or ideals the manner in which their
presence is made more manifest in the universe?
There is a Zen saying that in order to undertake the
path of awakening one needs “great faith, great doubt and great courage”. In
pondering the conundrums facing the heathen or pagan seeking to live in the
21st century, I thought that this was quite an apt summary of what we are
seeking to embody in the hearth of Odin the Wanderer.
The small number of us who meet to celebrate the
turning of the year are moved at a profound level by the weightiness of the
Northern aesthetic- its emphasis on honour, its sparseness and sense of
stoicism - the Gods, Goddesses and Wights that we honour and follow are clearly within the Northern Mythos-
for us meeting on the land this makes sense at a primal level. Now this is all
sounding fairly normal for anyone who has been to a blot or a hearth before,
but what one might be struck by, is that - hey, we don’t say a lot, we spend
most of our time sitting down and we also (gasp) spend some of our time
laughing.
But how is this Zen?, and why Zen and Odinism? As to
the ‘how’, we deem what we are doing as being Zen related. Zen is the Japanese
translation of Chan which in turn is the Chinese translation of Dhyana i.e.
meditation. Now meditation can mean many things but I think the ideas of
mindfulness, awareness, wakefulness and quiet receptivity are at the heart of
the experience I am pointing to. In practice this means that after
acknowledging the elements and directions and welcoming the Gods, Goddesses and
Wights, we spend most of our time listening both to the inner stirrings of
ourselves and to the spirit of place.
As to why Zen and Odinism, - at a simple level it’s a
syncretism we like! We are not an over-talkative bunch and we feel somewhat
burnt-out by either reconstructionism or magical go-getting. At a philosophical
level, however, I think that there are deep connections between the concept of
the way of the warrior as developed under the inspiration of Zen (“Bushido”)
and the path of spiritual warriorship that the heathen path seeks to encourage.
The concept of Runa or mystery also requires acknowledgment of the
incompleteness of our spiritual vision, and of the limits that language places
on us. This sits well with the type of Zen mind attitude encouraged through
working with apparently nonsensical koans (read the Rune poems recently?).
Now to some this may all sound like new age wooliness,
but all I offer in our defence is that we are
not saying that anyone else has to do likewise, and that due to the historic
gaps in our source material, many of us are inevitably splicing our heathenry
with hermeticism, Wicca and Christianity without being conscious of it. If we
have to splice -and I think that we must because it is impossible to erase 1000
years of ancestral experience - then let’s do it consciously and explicitly
rather than claiming a feeble historic precedent. We are not living in the same
world that our heathen forbears inhabited and we can’t reconstruct it
absolutely, so let’s run with that and dwell in the now rather than trying to
occupy what is gone.
To sum it all up, we are trying to find out what we think
via the paradigm of the Northern Gods and Goddesses. Within the framework of
the Nine Noble Virtues and using the deities as exemplars, we are trying to
find a means of connecting to our spiritual selves in a way which resonates for
us – and that means accepting the things we have learnt from other traditions
rather than trying to eradicate them (a fruitless task) from our well of
memory.
For us, Odin and Frigga embody the search for wisdom
and understanding. When in the Grimnismol Odin says “Over Midgard Hugin and Munin both, Each day set
forth to fly: For Hugin I fear lest he come not home, But for Munin my care is
more” he is saying that memory is the most valuable of assets. This doesn’t
mean, can’t mean, only certain memories – it means everything of value which
has been learned by our ancestors and, crucially, by ourselves.
Odin wandered Midgard, watching and learning. We want
to do the same and we see this as the meaning of our hearth. So we do what
seems to us best to create the conditions that make this possible. Hence the
silence…
Reference: The Poetic Edda translated by Henry Adams Bellows, Dover
Publications, Inc, Mineola, New York 1923/2004
Rune
Poem
Fehu
is wealth and human fire,
Uruz
our strength in testing times.
Thurisaz
threatens Asgard’s wall,
Balanced
by Ansuz – order and calm.
Next
comes counsel on Raido’s road
Under
the light of Kenaz’s glow.
Gifted
Gebo fits in next,
And
Wunjo’s pasture ends the set.
**
Hagalaz
rains on the second aett
But
Nauthiz warms our cloudy fates,
Preparing
us for Isa’s stagnation:
Sewing
the seed of Jera’s fruition.
In
bitter winter Eihwaz is strong,
Perthro
the view of summer to come.
Algiz
is courted for holy attention
‘til
Sowulo’s long-waited Yule resurrection.
**
Tyr
is the keeper of order and truth,
Berkana
the female’s fertility health.
Sleipinir’s
spirit Ehwaz represents
And
Mannaz the spirit of humanness.
Now
Laguz’s water from Hvergelmir flows
While
Inguz the man’s fertility holds.
Othala
bequeaths our earthly estate
And
Dagaz’s sunset brings a new day.
Alan Nash
Are
The Gods Real? Or What the Bleep Do We Know About Consciousness?
-
by Harald Gudmundsson
Hearing I ask
from the holy races,
From Heimdall’s
sons both high and low:
Thou wilt,
Valfather, that well I relate
Old tales I
remember of men long ago.
Voluspo v.1
The Poetic Edda, trans H. A. Bellows
Carl Gustav Jung’s word ‘archetype’ is bad news for some
heathens these days. The Association of Polytheist Traditions website[3]
says for instance: “We recognise many
gods and do not deny the existence of gods from religions other than our own.
.... We understand our gods to have an independent
existence outside of our own psyches. They are not unconscious archetypes”
(my emphasis.) But Jung’s unconscious archetypes arguably offer the strongest
evidence possible for the reality of the gods, rather than suggesting that they
are somehow ‘imaginary.’
……………………………………….
To the best of my knowledge I have never
met a god, at least not one that I recognised. I have never seen a land wight
either, any more than I have seen atoms or carbon monoxide gas. The fact is
though, that just because carbon monoxide is invisible, we don’t say that we
imagine it; we’re certain that faulty gas heaters kill.
We don’t see atoms or carbon monoxide
because we can’t. Since atoms are too small to be perceived and because the gas
is both colourless and odourless, our limited senses can’t detect either of them,
and we accept this as a fact without question. And when it comes to gods,
wights and other supernatural beings, we’re in much the same position: the best
we can do is to receive representations
of them (from which we make images, sculptures and such) and we cannot perceive
them more directly. Supernatural means ‘beyond the senses,’ after all. We can
however, usefully ask questions about how our representations of the gods
arise, and why they are so standardised across cultures.
Everyday, taken-for-granted consciousness
is a complicated business. When Louis Armstrong sang about seeing ‘trees of
green, red roses too’…and
thought to himself, ‘It’s a
wonderful world,’ he clearly knew what he meant, but probably didn’t
worry too much about how these things actually happen. Fact is though, that
these commonplace elements of human experience pose real problems to
neuro-scientists, psychologists and philosophers, and as I write this, the
current edition of New Scientist [4]
carries a detailed article explaining why. The processes behind perception and
consciousness are extremely difficult to unravel even today, and explaining
precisely how we experience
colour and other sensations - and then working out for sure, whether my senses of ‘green,’ of pain, or the
scent of roses, are more or less the same as
yours – remain serious
scientific problems.
Sensation, Perception and Consciousness
To cut a very long story short, while the
physiological mechanisms behind how our eyes process light or our ears actually
‘hear’ are reasonably well understood, that’s not the whole yarn by any means.
Serious difficulties arise when science tries to explain how the postage-stamp
sized images that form on our retinas, for example, get translated into the
detailed three dimensional multi-coloured pictures of the world that most of us
experience without a passing thought. A summary of these problems, originally
written by the psychologist Professor Richard Gregory in 1998[5] and
substantially repeated in the BBC’s recent radio programme In Our Time[6]
goes something like this:
- The big scientific and philosophical
question is whether the human brain simply receives sensations or
actually makes them and then
somehow turns them into useful perceptions. When we look at
grass, is the sensation of ‘green’ simply picked up by the eyes, from light
reflected from the grass, or is it somehow created within in our
brains? And for practical purposes, does
it matter what the answer is? -
Well, it might matter, because how we
answer these questions makes us think hard about what we mean by ‘reality’, and
then causes serious doubt about what we can reasonably take for granted in the
‘real’ world. If the brain somehow organises sensations (like the reflected light from grass, for example)
into perceptions (like the
standardised green of grass that most of us say we experience) then
understanding how the process works, and finding out how perceptions get to be
accurate enough to be reliable, becomes very important. The brain can
make false perceptions
sometimes, like the retinal after-images we see after gazing at a bright light
for example, and we need accuracy to cross the street safely.
To explain how the brain might create
perceptions, some philosophers (and some scientists) have adopted the highly
speculative idea that they call qualia
(pronounced kwahlya). Qualia are supposed to be encoded patterns of
brain activity that have language-like characteristics, similar perhaps to the
machine code in a computer. They are
neither images nor sounds though, because they also deal with all of our other
senses including touch. Very small babies are thought to possess qualia but so
far no-one has been able to describe how their qualia might form physically.
The theory says however, that without the
appropriate qualia, we
are unable to recognise some aspects of reality.
Richard Gregory writes (ibid): “From
patterns of stimulation at the eyes and ears and the other organs of senses,
including touch, we project
sensations of consciousness into the
external world (my italics). This startling notion - that perception
(works by) projecting brain-hypotheses outwards into the physical world,
endowing the world with colour and sound and meaning - has surprising
implications.”
So according to this argument, we don’t
know for sure what the world is like. Instead, we have a set of biologically
organised notions about it, calculated somehow by the brain, and it is still
not at all clear how any physical stimuli affecting the physical brain
structure can work sensations up into consciousness. But our brain-built
predictions are good enough to stop us walking blindly over cliffs; and as we
learn, we seem to be able to generate new qualia to deal with every aspect of
our world of sensations. Fortunately too, we can also update existing qualia: if this were not the case, we would not
be able to distinguish a current red traffic light (say) from a remembered one.
Now, without getting too fanciful about
this situation, it seems to me that qualia theory means that we can say some
things about human consciousness that are relevant to the reality of the gods.
Firstly, if the theory is correct, (and like Patricia Churchland in New Scientist (ibid) some certainly dispute that) then it
is more foolhardy than we often suppose to make clear-cut distinctions between
‘imagination’ and ‘reality.’ Secondly, the likelihood is that none of us have
(or ever could have) adequate
qualia for the deities – all we can have instead are images or ideas about them, constructed somehow from
limited data acquired over time. And
thirdly, since many people are convinced that the deities do exist and are very
real indeed, there must be some other process at work to explain the
extraordinary power of the images on which our convictions are based. Step
forward C.G Jung, and his ‘unconscious archetypes.’
The Human Mind and God
Jung (1875-1961) wrote prodigiously, and
his collected works and letters run to some twenty volumes in all. His life
story and thought however, are fairly well summarised in the memoir/biography Memories, Dreams, Reflections [7] written by Aniela Jaffé in 1963, and in Anthony
Storr’s The Essential Jung,[8]
both of which are decent enough introductions to this complicated and controversial
man. Ronald Hayman’s biography A Life of Jung (1999) [9] is
a more critical yet probably more accurate account.
Along with Sigmund Freud, Jung (the son
of a Swiss Christian pastor) was one of the founding fathers of ‘depth
psychology.’ He devoted himself to exploring the pathology of the human ‘mind’
(especially its ‘unconscious’ dimensions) firstly in order to treat serious
mental disorders and subsequently as a life-long exercise in theoretical
understanding. His researches into mythology and religious experiences were
extensive and towards the end of his life they led him to answer the question,
‘Do you believe in God now?’ (during
a 1959 interview with John Freeman on the BBC television programme Face to Face) with the words, ‘…I don’t need to believe; I know!’ (See URL below for the
audio clip[10])
Following this broadcast, Jung wrote a
letter to The Listener [11]
in response to the many enquiries that the BBC had received about his
statement. He said:
‘Sir - So many letters I have received
have emphasised my statement about 'knowing' (of God) [in Face to Face, The
Listener, October 29]. My opinion about knowledge of God is an
unconventional way of thinking, and I quite understand if it should be
suggested that I am no Christian. Yet I think of myself as a Christian since I
am entirely based upon Christian concepts. I only try to escape their internal
contradictions by introducing a more modest attitude, which takes into
consideration the immense darkness of the human mind. Our time certainly demands
some new thought in this respect, as we cannot continue to think in an antique
or medieval way, when we enter the sphere of religious experience….
….I did not say in the broadcast,
"There is a God." I said "I do not need to believe in God; I
know." Which does not mean: I do know a certain God (Zeus, Jahwe, Allah,
the Trinitarian God, etc.) but rather: I do know that I am obviously confronted
with a factor unknown in itself, which I call God….Since I know of my collision
with a superior will in my own psychical system, I know of God, and … I would
say, of a God beyond good and evil, just as much dwelling in myself as
everywhere else ….’
Whatever else we might think about Jung,
this letter is a remarkable statement, coming as it did only two years before
his death at the age of eighty-six. It is an old man’s summation of his
experience and of his theorising about mind, and while it is obviously only an
opinion, the opinion is based on a lifetime of thought and study.
The Personality and the Archetypes
Simplified to extremes, Jung’s model of
the mind or psyche says that it is in three parts. First there is the Ego, the
focal point of consciousness, the thing that we refer to when using the words
'I' or 'me'. Ego carries our conscious awareness of existing, together with a
continuing sense of personal identity and is the conscious organiser of our
thoughts and intuitions, our feelings and sensations. It also has access to
those of our memories that are readily accessible, which not all of them are.
Ego is the source of personality standing (so to speak) at the junction
between our inner and outer worlds. Jung supposed that people differ as to
which of these realms is more important to them, and this determines their attitude type: extraverts focus on the outer,
objective world, while introverts
are orientated principally to their inner, subjective experiences.
‘Behind’ the ego however, Jung describes
an ‘unconscious’ part of the mind, divided between a ‘personal’ unconscious and
a more deeply hidden ‘collective’ unconscious from which his ‘archetypes’
arise. The personal unconscious contains
memories gained through our lifetimes, some of which are easily ‘called to
mind’ and others (complexes or repressed memories) which can only emerge in
dreams, from looking inwards at ourselves in the special and safe circumstances
of psychotherapy sessions or through difficult personal introspection. Complexes however are powerful forces that
influence our conscious thoughts and behaviour: although ‘buried’ they are deeply
influential and in part, they are powered by the archetypes.
The contents making up the
collective unconscious come from the collective heritage of humanity, which
Jung described as archetypal.
An archetype is a 'possibility of representation' - an innate (even biological)
common psychic structure that parallels the common human physical structure and
which predisposes all of us towards being attracted to particular kinds of
imagery. Importantly, the archetypes can never
be experienced directly; all we can know of them is what we can deduce from
their effects on our dreams, our thoughts and on our emotions and actions. It
seems to me though that there is an obvious similarity between Jung’s ideas
about his archetypes and the Rigsthula account of Heimdall’s fatherhood
of mankind.
While there are as many
archetypal images as there are situations in life eg birth, death, separation
from parents and relationships to the opposite sex and so on, some of the major
ones described by Jung are the Persona, the Shadow, Anima and Animus, the wise
old man, the great mother, the trickster, the eternal child, the hero/saviour
and the Self. In addition to these
images in personalised form, there are also a host of ‘archetypal objects’,
most notably the Mandala, the ritual diagram representing the cosmos used in
meditation in Buddhism and other religions. Other important objects are trees,
snakes, the sun and moon, fish, birds, the sea, ships, mountains, etc. Jung
believed firmly that between them, the archetypes and the objects, accounted
for the common ground between all
human mythologies.
Archetypes, Psychic Defences and the Gods
Over the lintel of his house
at Kusnacht, near Zurich, Jung had inscribed the words ‘Vocatus atque non
vocatus, Deus aderit’ – called (perhaps
‘summoned’) or not called, God is always
present. He wrote about this that, ‘….Yes, the god will be on the spot, but in
what form and to what purpose? I have put the inscription there to remind my
patients and myself that “The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom.” [12]
In a way this is a summary of the whole
of Jung’s psychology. He believed that the archetypes were real – more real and
more deeply a part of humanity, than transient cultures or other passing
theories. His whole life was devoted to acknowledging the importance of
archetypal influences and recognising that ‘called or not called’ they affect
(or even dictate) everything
that we experience. He also believed that virtually all human irrationality,
our neurotic and often reckless feelings and behaviour could be attributed to
our refusal to come to terms with the archetypes – the Persona (or mask) that
we adopt to present ourselves to the world for instance, has to be balanced by
acknowledgement of the Shadow, of which our greed, lusts and anti-social
violence are component parts. Failure to do this means that we allow ourselves
to develop into one-sided personalities, wasting creative energy in fruitless
defence of untenable points of view which we often feel impelled to impose on others. (Hey, Mr Bush, who
actually has the weapons, might we ask?)
Unbalanced over-identification with an
archetype is destructive too. Jung was much criticised for his statement that
Germany had been ‘seized’ by the idea of Wotan the Warrior when he wrote his
notorious ‘Wotan’ essay in 1936.[13]
He was wise enough however to realise that in time other facets of the god
would come to the fore to counter the one-dimensional warrior image. So the
rounded or ‘individuated’ personality then, is the person who acknowledges all
the conflicting facets within the psyche and makes peace with them in a truly
balanced fashion. Yes, I can be potentially homicidal in the right
circumstances, but I can also be caring in others. Sure, I once fell for Audrey
Hepburn (when I was sixteen and gripped somehow by the Anima, the archetypal
ideal of woman) but I can also love somebody more real than a character in a
film. These are some things that I know.
And as for the gods then…
…. Well, if they can speak to me through
archetypal imagery, as Wise Old Odin, Warrior Wotan, as Hero/Saviour, Mother
Jorth or Loki the Trickster to take some examples, then that is not only
‘acceptable’ but it is also something for which I can (and should) be grateful. Since I lack the
adequate qualia to perceive the gods directly, then their archetypal presence
(and consequent influence on my thoughts and actions) is surely their greatest
blessing. And how else could eternal beings reveal themselves to my limited
senses, except through the deepest reaches of human memory?
O’er Mithgarth
Hugin and Munin both
Each day set
forth to fly;
For Hugin I
fear lest he come not home,
But for Munin
my care is more.
Grimnismol v. 20
The Poetic Edda, trans H.A. Bellows
The Way of Wyrd: report of a Brian Bates Talk, London, 29th November
2004
- by Claire Bellenis
Brian Bates is
a Professor of Psychology who now teaches Shamanic Consciousness at Sussex
University and runs workshops. He was
recently given the title ‘Wizard’ by the Worldwide Council of Elders. His book “The
Way of Wyrd” which tells of Anglo-Saxon tribal wisdom, has been an
international best seller.
Professor
Bates began his lecture by giving a brief description of his gradual dawning
interest into the mysteries of Anglo-Saxon spirituality. This path started at the age of sixteen in
the sixties, and took him from Daoism, through Buddhism, Druidism (as it was
then called), witchcraft and alchemy. It
was the discovery of an Anglo-Saxon remedy book of 1080, which he found in the
British Library, which opened his eyes to the magic and mystery of this ancient
people.
He told us
that, at this time, the people of what is now The British Isles saw the world
as held on a huge tree with all things being connected. He went on to say that
now, in our present age, chaos theory backs this view up. At that time there were about fifteen hundred
different tribes living in what is now the British Isles. The christian religion was making inroads through
both conversions and threats. However many people were Christian through fear,
not conviction, and the old Pagan beliefs were still very much still adhered
to, though they were being driven underground.
Professor
Bates went on to say that he had formulated eighty-one ways in which to
manifest wyrd, this number had pleased him greatly as it was the sacred nine
multiplied by nine. However, much to his
chagrin, he had then thought of one more, which rather ruined his
calculations. He proposed to tell us
about seven of these ways of manifesting wyrd into our lives, as he conceded
that there really wasn’t the time for the whole eighty-two!
- FRITH. This, he said, meant
peace, the peace of mind which comes from belonging, to family group or
tribe. Now in our times we make our
own tribe from people with whom we find common ideas and ideals. These people are connected to us by
invisible threads which extend to all parts of the world, wherever they
may be. He said that by visualising
and meditating on a loved one it was possible to send this love out to
them, this he called ‘frithing’.
Another interesting exercise being to draw lines connecting the
people one cares for and making a visual web.
- WEB OF COMPASSION. Professor
Bates said we are all self-healing.
He told the story of a young woman who had been his pupil. She felt
that she had failed at everything and was even driven to the point of
contemplating suicide. He remembered the myth of Thor’s encounter with the
giants. How they had tricked him in
three contests, the first of eating, the second of drinking and the third
fighting. Thor had been utterly
demoralised by these failures, but, as he was leaving in as state of
abject gloom, the giants admitted that he had been tricked and this
compassion made him feel good about himself once more. This fable had
helped the young girl.
- MAGEN, this, he told us, is spiritual strength. The word we now know as ‘might’ and
equating with happiness, good fortune, the opposite if dis’may’, when the
spiritual life force seems to be lost.
One of the Anglo-Saxon methods of building up magen was by the
giving of gifts, this doesn’t mean something expensive in monetary terms,
but can be the most precious thing of all, the giving of time.
- WAY OF WYRD, THE ELF. The professor sees this as the attendance all
around us of spirit presences. We
have separated ourselves from these energies and from nature, and in doing
this we have denied a part of the natural life force. The ancients believed that these forces
were real and quantum physics is now acknowledging that there are some
particles which are so small that they are totally unable to be detected
by any human agency, yet they do have an effect on material things. Some string theorists affirm that there
are ten dimensions, rather than the three usually admitted, while the
super gravity theorists say no, there are eleven! By using the imagination and meditation
we find a way to spirit.
- WAY OF WYRD, TIME CAUSE AND EFFECT. The professor explained that
while we, in our times, think of time as being past, present and future,
the Anglo-Saxons thought in the ‘now’.
He said that some shamanic people still see the three as one and
told the story of two medicine women whom he had met while studying at
Harvard, and who had come to England to see him. He had taken them to the British Museum
to see the Sutton Hoo collection.
At the museum he went forward to look at the helmet, whereupon he
discovered himself to be alone. Looking round for his two companions he
found them at the doorway. He asked them why they didn’t come forward and
they said that they were waiting to be given permission to approach, as
this was a sacred and powerful relic and they would not presume to draw
near until invited. They, he told
us, saw the past and present as one.
He said that the now held all history, but there is no such thing
as history for it is all present in the now woven with the future and this
is wyrd. We can reshape the story
of our lives by understanding it.
- THE WAY OF FETCH. This
expression means having all aspects of self and the land.
- GARSAC. This is eternal
life, destiny. He told us that this not so much a path, more of a voyage
as it is non-stopping. There are
winds and tides, ports of call, and people you want with you. Sometimes we are tacking into the
wind. We need a destination so as
not to be blown off course. Should
we need to find our destination this can be achieved through meditation
and asking for guidance.
The last two manifestations of wyrd were somewhat
truncated as the professor found that the time was fast running out! However for any who want to explore these
ideas more fully there is a web site www.wayofwyrd.com
The
Saga of Sven the Voyager
Hamish
Donnachaidh has kindly prefaced the latest extract as follows: Scholars have
long wondered why it was that the well disciplined English Housecarls broke
their shield wall at the battle of Hastings, so enabling William the Bastard to
win the day. At last the truth can be revealed, and the rich tapestry of
English history thereby enriched. The fate of King Harold, and the reason why
the house-carls fell victims to a Norman ruse, now becomes clear.
In his early thirties Sven, sated by the
adventurous life he’d led, settled down in London together with Helga the
Hotheaded, Morning Dew and their eight children, in the vicinity of what is now
London Bridge. There with his accustomed business acumen, he soon established a
thriving import and export business between England and Europe, dealing mainly
in furs, Baltic amber, and Welsh wool skirt lengths. In addition he returned to
his old trade of cheese making, and was noted for the wide variety and
innovative taste of his products. It is sufficient here to mention only his
corgi milk and nettle soft cheese, and the exquisite angora stilton.
As
you will know, the old Spitalfields area of London is presently being excavated
under the aegis of the Museum of London and we cannot but wonder if the recent
discovery of ‘The Old Norse Head’ wine
and cheese bar is further evidence of Sven’s enterprise.
The saga tells us how Sven prospered and
would, true to his mercantile instincts, embark upon trips within England to
market his cheese, and his new line in yoghurts (for the warrior finding it
hard to fit into his mail shirt). Then
in early 1066, thanks to his continental connections, Sven became aware of the
intentions of both Harold Hardrada and William the Bastard to invade. Seizing
upon a great commercial opportunity he laid his plans with care.
So it was that on the early morning of
September the 24th, shortly after their glorious defeat of the Earls
Edwin and Morcar at the battle of Fulford Gate, that the victorious army of
Hardrada were able to feast upon Sven’s delicious cows’ milk and mushroom
cheese. The consequences of which became truly obvious on the very next day
when they were defeated by the forces of Harold Godwinson.
Hamish
Donnachaidh comments that currently unpublished suggestions in the saga that
Sven could be colour blind, and the early appearance of the fly agaric that
year, might have some bearing upon the above.
Flushed with the success of his selling of cheese to the lately defeated Vikings, Sven sped south to be ready to provide for the invading Normans. However, out-marched by Harold’s forces he only arrived during the afternoon of the 14th October when a battle between the invaders and the English was in full sway. As a loss-leader Sven offered Harold one of his noted goats milk, brie and mandrake baps which, faint with battle hunger, Harold consumed with every sign of relish - shortly before clasping his middle regions and retiring to the bushes, depriving the English army of leadership at a vital stage in the battle. At this inauspicious point, Sven approached the English line from behind with his famous cry of