Archive for the ‘simplicity’ Tag
Last weekend was the first long weekend of the Earth Living twelve month programme. I’ll try not to give too much away for those who might be thinking of signing up to the programme next year, but refer to the topics as listed on the Native Awareness website.
The main thing I took from the weekend was the camaraderie between the students, instructors and volunteers. Spending time with like-minded people was (as always) a pleasure, and we bonded well as a team, which bodes well for the survival immersion week next April, which we are all working towards. This is when we venture into the wilderness for a week with only the clothes we are standing in and the authentic primitive tools we have made throughout the year.
This first weekend was focused on advanced skills and crafts. I really enjoyed the pottery making and intend to find and process some of my local clay to make more of the utensils we’ll need in the immersion quest, hopefully in time for us to fire them communally at the next meeting in June. I managed to make a small pinch pot, larger coil pot and small oil lamp at the weekend, but have lots of ideas and inspiration for other pots I’d like to make.
Advanced bow drill was a revelation, and I’ve taken away lots of tips that will help me better understand, and become more proficient in, this type of firemaking. You never stop learning with the bow drill, and I’m already thinking about building my next set, in accordance with the time-tested theory that the more love and attention you put into your kit, the better the attitude with which you approach the process of firemaking, and the more successful you will hopefully be.
The other thing I took away from the weekend was the experience of finding and purifying water and foraging for wild edibles. These experiences brought me closer to the environs of the camp in all sorts of ways. Learning the skills of survival is not just about dealing with extreme situations; its about re-discovering our relationship with the natural world by removing the fear and distrust that separates modern humans from nature. Only when we can enter the wilderness with nothing, and without fear, can we re-establish the communication our ancestors enjoyed with the world… and our spirits so crave today.
On Friday I went to see the Warriors of the Plains exhibition at the British Museum. The exhibition focuses on the material culture of Native North American Indians of the Plains between 1800 and the present, and the importance of the objects in a social and ceremonial context.
Highlights for me were the buffalo skin robe at the entrance to the exhibition, decorated with scenes of warfare and the exploits of the owner/maker, such as horse stealing. The stylistic rendering of the human figures and horses was beautifully simple and evocative and I made a few sketches to influence my own creations.
I’m planning to make a ‘coup stick’, a couple of which were on display in the exhibition. These are short clubs that were used to touch enemies without harming them. To do this without getting caught was a deed of great skill and honour. It reminded me of some of the games we played on Native Skills 1 and 2.
I also viewed the permanent displays of Native American artefacts and was impressed by the delicacy of some of the coil baskets and clay pots and the simplicity and effectiveness of their designs. I was drawn to the creations of some of the Northern-most peoples, including walrus ivory wrist guards, bow drill bows, harpoons and composite bows.
Lots of inspiration and ideas for my next creations! I would recommend the Warriors of the Plains exhibition to anyone who happens to be in London. It runs from 7 January to 5 April 2010 in the exhibition space on level 4.
We went to see Avatar in 3D on Wednesday. It’s the story of the human colonisation of the fictional planet of Pandora, and the resistance of the native population of Na’vi (The People). The humans attempt to usurp the Na’vi on a number of fronts, including militarily and diplomatically. They genetically create Na’vi bodies (or avatars), which trained specialists can upload their consciousness to, in order to negotiate with the Na’vi and attempt to ‘educate’ them in human values and language.
Pandora is a breathtakingly beautiful planet, and rendered in high-definition 3D it’s pretty awe-inspiring. The Na’vi enjoy a close bond with their land and can access a kind of ancestral consciousness through forest network. They are experts in tracking, hunting, healing, caretaking and honourable relationship. The barbarity of the colonising attitude is at the fore throughout, but for once things don’t always go the usurpers’ way.
Avatar is well worth a view and hopefully I’ll be going back to see the IMAX 3D version before it leaves the cinemas.
I’ve just returned from ten days at Hazel Hill woods in Wiltshire on the Native Awareness courses Native Skills 1 and 2. Whatever expectations I had of the course were far outshone and I feel that I have developed more as a person the last ten days than I have in the previous three years, thanks to the others on the course, who by the end of the week I had come to regard as brothers and sisters. The week was like a bubble and I experienced that weird time dilation by which you feel things are passing ever so quickly and yet you struggle to remember what life was like before you were there.
Ostensibly the course focused on the various practical skills associated with survival and earth living – shelter building, friction firemaking, tracking, stalking, arrowmaking, cordage, basketry, preparing and cooking wild foods. The amount of learning that was passed on in the course of ten days was incredible. The more I learnt, however, the more I realised that these skills are not just tools of survival, they’re exercises in living in harmonious relationship with nature. The principles underpinning them cut across many disciplines. By learning about the properties of wood, bone, stone and sinew we were learning as much about ourselves and our relationships as we were about the tools of survival.
Highlights of the week for me included the drum stalk, whereby we were taken out into the woods at night and left blindfolded, having to return to the campfire using only the sound of the drum. This really made me realise how much of our perception is non-visual. The task become almost a meditation as I fell into pace with the drum, each footstep a prayer to the earth. An unintentional result of this exercise was that Emily lost her glasses during the stalk, and she and I made it our mission over the next few days to recover them (perhaps the most camouflaged glasses available for that terrain) using tracking skills, expanded awareness and personality profiling. We learnt perhaps more from this than anything else, seeing our environment with new eyes, eventually finding them by torchlight during a nighttime expedition after days of searching during the day. It seemed fitting that they were found at night around the same time the were lost, as though they were in the nighttime forest waiting for us to find them all along. A small triumph perhaps, but its elation was tangible, its excitement lasted days, and its lessons learnt and bonds forged are still with me.
Other highlights included a talk by Hanna, a wise woman in the Native American tradition, on the philosophies of awareness and relationship with the spirit that flows through all things. Skinning and gutting our own rabbits to make rabbit burgers was a lesson in gratitude and awe for the sacrifice that nature makes to feed us, and the debt we owe as caretakers of the world and each other. Watching two of the volunteers emerge from invisibility right in front of our eyes in full primitive camo was another one of many unforgettable experiences.
A pipe ceremony was another lesson to me in gratitude and the importance of not taking things for granted, for although nature provides everything we need to survive and thrive, we as humans are far from up to the task of attaining the knowledge and wisdom of how to live in harmony with it (and much, much further than our pre-agricultural ancestors). The message for me was not that we should censure ourselves too harshly for this, but that it is so important that we strive to be better, however small the steps we take, to learn more and to look after our brothers and sisters, human and non-human. The message of not taking things for granted was underlined when we went back to the kitchen area to find the electricity playing havoc. Eating dinner by candlelight was an unforeseen blessing.
I made personal connections with the others on the course that I was beginning to think I was unable to achieve. After the first few days I felt awkward and unsocialised as I am often accustomed to feel, but by the end of the week I felt at ease with, and fond of, everyone on the course. It was heartwarming to see how the group gelled and its members began to look after each other and provide the encouragement and support to allow each of us to achieve things we may never have been able to alone. The beginning of a community perhaps? … I hope so. It certainly alighted things in me that I had once known and have now come rushing to the fore with seemly infinite creative potential.
James’ and Alex’s approach to teaching these skills in that they want their students in turn to become teachers and help spread these skills, and the principles underlying them, to others. It is only by teaching these skills that we really learn them. So it was a real opportunity when on Sunday we were given the task of teaching friction firemaking to a group of conservationists also using the woods. Though nervous of our own abilities at first, by the end of the session we had taught all the participants how to make fire using the bow drill methods, two of whom managed to create a coal within an hour. Without meaning to we also managed to teach the basic principles of cordage, shelter, foxwalking and camouflage! Not only that, we had felt we had lit a spark of curiosity among them that would hopefully manifest itself again in the future. I was so proud of us, and so moved – elated and tearful at the same time.
One of the best things about the week was the chance to be childlike again, to play games, to sneak up on each other, to tease and to make games out of throwing sticks. Living in tune with nature is fun, and many indigenous tribal peoples are noted for their constant laughter and smiles.
Unfortunately my camera broke half way through the week, but I am hoping to get access to others’ pictures over the next few days, some of which I will try to post here, along with accounts of my dirt time over the coming weeks, months and years, developing my new found skills and passions.
Less than ten generations have passed since the mass-production methods of the Industrial Revolution properly took hold, and even then the majority of the population would have been involved in some form of craft work on a regular basis. Prior to that, thousands of generations relied on handmade items and tools.
As our ancestors learned more about the subtleties of their environment they responded with ever more sophisticated – and yet often startlingly simple – craft techniques. Knowledge was passed on and techniques evolved, forming an inextricable sympathy between craftsperson and natural world – a relationship that from today’s perspective (alienated as we tend to be from our modes of production) can seem almost mystical.
Sometimes it seems almost as if handcrafted items are imbued with the intention and consciousness of their makers, as if this is a physical trait that you could almost reach out and touch. In the voculabulary of spirituality you could say that handcrafted items are enspirited in a way that mass-produced items are not.
Can this be an objective quality – or does it require knowledge of the production method on behalf of the observer? Either way, it seems to me to be a vitally important link to a sustainable way of living that we seem to have mislaid … and increasingly need to recover.
This is a wonderful blog, written by Rima Staines, illustrator, painter, maker of things and teller of tales. I was led there because of Rima’s illustration for Telling the Bees‘ debut album, ‘Untie the Wind’ – which I have been listening to a lot lately.
Rima’s curiosity leads her through the many worlds of words, languages and lettering, books and stories, puppetry, nature and interesting people, music, superstitions, folklore and fairytales, and most of all the otherness that can be found on the periphery of our lives, the strange and grotesque, the absurd and unnerving … that topsy turvy in between place where things are not quite what they seem…
Her days are spent with her partner in this converted Bedford horsebox. Living in a mobile home isn’t easy, especially in England where the authorities are likely to move you on after a couple of days and locals are often less than accommodating, but it is possible … if you’re prepared to keep on the move and take advantage of offers from friendly landowners – which Rima appears to have done through her extensive community of online friends and followers.
The interior of the home has been painstakingly fitted out with wood panelling, stove, sink, cupboards and hundreds of decorative and functional items each telling part of the tale of Rima and her partner’s shared life.
I’d like to spend some time to think about ritual, taking it back to basic principles and ditching some of the stuff we do simply as a result of habit and fuzzy thinking. For me ritual is about carving out a sacred space, to mark our paths (individually and communally) through life, and to acknowledge and honour the spirits of the land, ancestors and deities (I’ll come back to what I mean by spirits and deities in a later post). In communal ritual it’s also about fostering a sense of community and shared intent.
Firstly, I think for it to be a ritual it has to be done regularly, regardless of whether that is daily, monthly, quarterly or yearly. Therein lies its strength. A sense of familiarity arises as instinct takes over from cerebral thought and the mind is freed to focus on the intent and respond to any subtle changes and outside influences that may occur. It also creates a relationship between the ritual participants and the spirits of the land, ancestors and deities that they gather to honour. If it’s a one-off then it’s a rite rather than a ritual.
The first stage of the ritual should be to state the intention, to focus the minds of the participants and to announce to the relevant spirits or deities that the purpose of the ritual is to honour them. I disagree with the practice of invoking or ‘calling in’ spirits in the High Magic tradition; it’s arrogant to think that these entities are waiting to be invited in at the whim of the ritualists, at a time and place of their choosing, and on their terms. If a spirit or deity is interested in what is going on, he/she will choose their level of involvement. Announcing the intention of the ritual and being open and responsive to the flow of events is sufficient.
A lot is made of protection and the need to ward off bad spirits, and even to cleanse bad spirits already ‘within’ or ‘attached to’ the participants. I don’t really believe that there are any such things as malevolent spirits out to get us. At worst a spirit may be indifferent, but on the whole I think they have better things to be doing than attacking unwary bystanders. The best ‘protection’, I believe, is humility, consideration and the ability to recognise and rectify any offence that might be caused during the course of the ritual. Negativity attracts negativity, so if there is anyone coming to the ritual with intent to cause harm then they shouldn’t be taking part in ritual in the first place.
As for the idea of cleansing people of negativity or bad spirits at the start of the ritual (usually by ‘smudging’) this strikes me as a little too close to the Christian concept of inherent or ‘original’ sin, that people are by default unclean or impure. There is an argument for cleansing in terms of leaving behind worries and preoccupations on entering the ritual, but I think it is important to stress that this is not due to anything inherently wrong with the participants. They need to recognise themselves as integral parts of nature, not something external that needs to be cleaned.
Nor do I go in for ritual washing. Dirt and sweat should be as much a part of the ritual as flowers and finery. Again there is the argument that the process of ritual washing helps the transition between normal life and ritual space. I’m in two minds about this as I believe that part of ritual should be to celebrate the mundane and to help dissolve the idea that only certain parts of experience are sacred, only to be brought out on special occasions.
It is important to mark ritual space as different, to help focus the minds of the participants on the present. There are ways to do this, however, without reinforcing distinctions between the sacred and the mundane. One way is to stress that everything is sacred, but that it is only by appreciating it as so are we able to forge a meaningful relationship with the land, ancestors, spirits and deities. Ritual space is differentiated as a place of heightened perception, and the celebration of what we see, feel and interpret.
Attention should be be focused the particular, including the peculiarities of the land, atmosphere and the current point of time within nature’s cycles. Ritual should be about celebrating the local, the particular and the one-off; it shouldn’t be a mindless reiteration, an archetypal pantomime divorced from place and time.
One of the few conventional elements of Pagan rituals I am particularly fond of is the circle, not cast to seal the ritual space off from the outside world, but merely as a shape used to focus attention. In communal rituals it is the most democratic of shapes, with everyone equal and able to have direct eye-contact with everyone else. The circle mirrors the cycles of the seasons, the tides, the paths of the sun and moon through our skies, and the horizon. It is a nurturing shape. The ritual circle is undoubtedly one of the best aspects of modern Pagan ritual.
In contrast, I’m not an advocate of the four quarters, particularly the Wiccan-style practice of calling in the four ‘guardians’. Even addressing the spirits of North, South, East and West in a non-invocatory style seems rather an arbitrary thing to do. To me these spirits don’t have a personality. It seems much more likely to me that our distant ancestors would have honoured the spirit of the forest, or river, or mountain, or thunder, rather than those of the cardinal directions, which gained prominence during the Middle Ages. That doesn’t mean that they have no merit, just that they are not essential, and (to me) counter-intuitive.
One of the perceived benefits of using the cardinal directions was their correspondences to the four ‘elements’ (earth, air, fire and water), and by extension the four humours, the four tarot suits etc. This whole cosmology again strikes me as rather medieval and out of place in modern ritual. Focusing on earth, air, fire and water however (though not exclusively or necessarily together), is a useful way to focus attention of the peculiarity of the ritual space and to celebrate nature. It is easy to imagine some of the earliest rituals taking place around a central fire, with participants taking turns to toast the spirits of the land and their ancestors in a similar vein to a modern Heathen blot, and I think this is still a very good practice.
Something I think still has a place in ritual is theatre, much as in the Mystery play tradition. An important element of ritual is to ground us, to allow us to position ourselves within the wider story of nature. Exploring cosmologies through drama is a good way for people to imagine their place within the world and so feel connected to it. From which cultures these stories and cosmologies come, or whether they are old or new, is not important, though if the intention is to honour a specific spirit or deity it makes sense to choose a story relating to them or to create a story within the cosmology they inhabit. To do otherwise would be rather insulting.
Storytelling is one of the oldest ways to bring communities together, to create relationships between people and their worlds and to honour the spirits of the land, ancestors and deities. It is only in recent centuries that it has become divorced from spirituality. I believe that part of a ritualist’s role is to draw attention to story as the material from which ritual is crafted, and insodoing remind the participants of the unity that once characterised our relationship with the world, in stark contrast to the alienated individuals we seem now to have become.
The solstice this year is at four minutes past midday on Sunday (21 December). I’ll be marking the end of the old year and the start of the new year, if there is such a thing. I usually tend to think of time as cyclical rather than as a succession of discrete units.
The only seasonal festivals I really recognise now are the two solstices marking the rise and fall of the sun, Beltane and Samhain as the beginning and ending of the fruitful season and a main harvest festival in August/September. Other than those, the only points I really take any notice of are the moon’s fullness and darkness.
I’m not sure where I stand on this debate. A two-year feasibility study on a possible Severn Barrage was launched last year following a report from the Sustainable Development Commission. The proposed Severn Barrage project would stretch nearly 10 miles from Lavernock Point west of Cardiff to near Brean Down in Somerset. It would cost around £14 billion.
Backers include the Welsh Assembly and the Southwest Regional Assembly, a number of cross-party MPs and Gaia theorist James Lovelock. Opponents include the Green Party, Friends of the Earth, the WWF and the RSPB.
The Friends of the Earth website explains some of the risks:
Why would the Barrage be environmentally damaging?
- The Barrage wall would create a 5 metre deep lake to its eastward side, losing an inter-tidal habitat, feeding grounds for tens of thousands of birds
- The Barrage would halve the tidal range and sensitive flora and fauna would be lost, and the famous Severn Bore diminished
- The Barrage could also have a significant impact on fish species of conservation interest, through use of fish sluices within the barrage wall
- The Barrage could significantly damage the viability of ports. It would also generate new traffic on existing road networks around Lavernock and Cardiff airport and cause development pressures in rural Somerset
- The government’s own statutory advisers state that ‘a Severn Barrage project would not be possible within the current legal framework provided by the EU Habitats and Birds Directives. The estuary is also being proposed for designation as a Special Area of Conservation (SAC), the highest protection in European Union law
It recommends a number of other means on generating energy from the Estuary, such as tidal lagoons located a mile off the Severn coast, a shorter flood defence barrage near the Second Severn Crossing, marine current turbines, wind energy or Carbon Capture and Storage (CCS) fitted to coal or gas power stations.
My gut reaction is that Sabrina should be protected, that her tidal activity is the essence of her nature, and that as a result she would be desecrated by such a violation.
I have a particular interest in this issue, as the proposed Barrage would link my family home in Somerset with my chosen home in Cardiff, and Sabrina has been a constant presence throughout my life. I am also a member of the Flatholm Society, although I don’t know if they have an official view on this. I will try to find out.
The possibility of so much renewable energy is massively attractive, but not at the expense of our land and its heritage. I think the money would be better spent on education programmes teaching us how to live within our energy means, simplifying and reducing our need for energy. This, combined with a wind generation and CCS programme would be my favoured approach. While there is still so much invested in a growth economy, however, this seems doubtful.
Simon built his family’s house in Wales with help from his father-in-law, passers-by and visiting friends. Four months after starting the family moved in.
The house was built with maximum regard for the environment and by reciprocation gives us a unique opportunity to live close to nature. Being your own (have a go) architect is a lot of fun and allows you to create and enjoy something which is part of yourself and the land rather than, at worst, a mass produced box designed for maximum profit and convenience of the construction industry. Building from natural materials does away with producers profits and the cocktail of carcinogenic poisons that fill most modern buildings.
Simon applied for planning permission retrospectively, and while this has not yet been resolved, the family have had at least four years’ worth of use out of their home.