Another photo of Boris

  

Boris

  

Coritani Solstice Sunrise (aka Boris) my beautiful Bengal boy 🙂

The horrific countryside

Dumbledore posted an article by Rob MacFarlane on our Grove Facebook page about the resurgence of the English countryside in eerie and horror fiction and media, with particular reference to a story by M R James. You can read the article Here

The following are some thoughts that the article inspired:

“I guess the theme of the “rural idyll”  was first introduced into the popular consciousness during the aftermath of the industrial revolution (and embellished by romantic movement). 

The ideal of gentle pastoral simplicity and tranquility as seen through the misty eyed, rose tinted, remembrances of those crushed into the overcrowded, industrial, smog filled, urban chaos of the early to mid 1800’s cities has, passed down (somewhat diluted) into the modern urban mindset. The industrial revolution witnessed a massive population shift as people fled (economically forced out of) the rural life to the urban sprawl. And, as happens with most diaspora people, many of them became to regard what they had left behind as a sort of “paradise lost” or timeless Garden of Eden complete with green meadows, babbling brooks, gentle sunsets and simple, yet happy inhabitants. And, to a certain kind of independently wealthy person of the  leisure classes who could engage with rural nature in a very superficial and comfortable way, it probably was. To the actual rural people who worked and relied on the land for their existence, the reality then, as now, is very different. 

One of the comforts of the modern technological and industrial mindset is that we have fooled ourselves into thinking we’ve conquered and tamed nature, or at least we can do so if the motivation is right. Britain is a long conquered land that has been cultivated for thousands of years. Apart from places like the moors, it’s a haven of pastoral beauty. Farms, villages and small market towns litter the agricultural landscape. There are no savage predator beasts that prowl, no real danger of deadly poisonous snakes or spiders, there are no convenient land borders for invaders to swarm across. The climate is temperate and the wildlife timid or semi-domesticated. The land is dependable, the land is safe. 

Except, of course, deep down inside we know that that just isn’t true. 

The feelings of unease that make authors like Machen, Blackwood and James so potent doesn’t derive entirely from the supernatural elements of their fiction. Instead it comes from confronting the protagonist, and therefore the reader, with the realisation that we are not in control, we don’t or can’t fully comprehend our environment. They point out that our belief that we have “tamed” nature is pure hubris. Nature under the surface patina of calm domesticity is still very much wild, unpredictable and dangerous. The true sense of unease is the striping away of our certainty and civilised safety. It’s like the unwelcome reminder that the faithful dog sitting by your hearth is actually a wolf. 

James and Lovecraft, one subtly and one less so, draw upon how insignificant we are to nature, how fleetingly temporary our short lives are on the grand scale of the enduring landscape. Blackwood and Machen, amongst others, remind us that nature follows it own rules, is full of the hidden and unknown. They show us that nature in its pure form is beyond our comprehension and certainly beyond our self imposed comfort zone. 

We seek safety in community and society, our instinct is to band together against the darkness, so what is more disturbing than to become isolated and alone? To be cut off from civilisation? To be thrust into a hostile unknown and uncaring landscape? A landscape we thought we knew? A landscape we thought populated but is in fact emptier of humans inhabitants than we’d believed, a landscape with darkened corners and hidden wild places?

In horror nature at best is indifferent to us, our short lives barely registering across its untold centuries. At worst nature is vengeful and malignant, toying with us and extracting revenge for the damages we have done her or purge the guilt of our rejection of her.

As we realise that the dog in our house is actually a wolf, and that our land of pastoral beauty is really wild and chaotic, perhaps our biggest cause for unease comes from the realisation that our own veneer of rational civilisation is so fleetingly fragile and that just under the surface hides our own uncontrollable wild nature.”

 

Suffering in religion

Dumbledore (a blogger on our ‘Grove ‘ blog – Link here-) posed a question on our face book group. It concerned the theme of suffering in religion. He noted how the Jewish, Christian and Buddhist traditions all, to a degree, focus on suffering, and asked why we, as pagans, didn’t? And was suffering, or the avoidance of, “healthy” in religion? Below is my response….

“Ok, so this is a little longer than I intended, and I hope it makes sense….

I think “healthier” is probably very subjective to the tradition/religion/ idiom you are engaged in. I guess you’ve got to look at the core concepts of the religions in question, and at the time in history these concepts were decided on. 

Judaism, at its heart, is a religion based on principles of superiority and revenge. The Jews largely conceived their hardline central doctrine whilst enslaved by the Babylonians. Their religion taught that they were the chosen people beloved by God (yehweh) and that their god would save them and destroy, or damn to everlasting torment, their enemies and other nonbelievers. However, to prove that they are part of the chosen they must live their lives under strict observations and laws. Whilst in slavery they were powerless in this world, but if they lived strictly by their codes, they believed that after death they would be “saved” and their oppressors punished. 

This started a trend of thought that was whole heartedly adopted into early Christianity. If you lived by strict doctrines you would be worthy to become one of the elect and ascend into heaven after death, whilst the lesser people (everyone else) would be punished. Into this mix you can add the idea of sin and the notion that all mankind is damned by inheriting the original sin of Adam and Eve, therefore you have to work and suffer even harder to atone and prove your devotion to your god so you can be saved. All together it sets up a nice theory of redemption (and revenge) through suffering. Jesus then becomes the ultimate poster boy for the persecuted and advocates suffering as the path to holiness. Asceticism and monasticism can become the way to prove devotion to god. In this peculiar doctrine “suffering” is “healthy” because it brings you closer to god. 

Judaism and later Christianity came about in turbulent times. In both cases  large ‘civilised’ empires were in decline, the social order was collapsing, wars were common; life was short and uncertain. As chaos and change reared it’s head, the optimism of the civilised world dropped and pessimism took over. Religions focused on an afterlife and salvation became desirable. 

In classical (and to a degree neo-paganism) the Gods are far less judgemental, patriarchal and demanding. In paganism the gods are more immediate and approachable (personable?). You could petition their favour through correct rites and appropriate sacrifices, in essence you could “buy” their help. In most cases you did not have to devote yourself to a god nor follow a lifestyle to make yourself worthy of their favour, there were no scriptures or authoritative dogmas to follow, and there was no all powerful social hierarchy to judge you.  In this idiom “suffering” would seem “unhealthy” and would be addressed by seeking the intervention of the Gods.

Paganism is relatively optimistic,  concerns were generally based in the  everyday here and now material world, life was about living,  and the gods were petitioned to help you have a better life. Judaism and Christianity on the other hand are pessimistic and focus on the next life which will be better than this life that you have to renounce and suffer your way through to be worthy of the next. Buddhism, what little I know of it, is also pessimistic as it seeks to transcend this material world and focuses on next state/oblivion.

As a neo-pagan I believe that the world is a wonderful, spiritual and sacred place. I am spiritually optimistic and generally glad to be alive. Im free to self determine (to a degree) and I’m self empowered (to a dgree) and not subject to the whim of a controlling “church/organised religion”, patriarchal god or social hierarchy. I don’t believe in sin or a need to appease a judgemental god to achieve favour in the next life. I see this life as a pleasurable place that we should all enjoy, therefore I see “suffering” as unhealthy and undesirable”