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Although I don't have any statistical information on this, I'd wager that most modern Pagans live primarily in Urban or Suburban environments. When one considers what those environments can be like - dirty, crowded, dehumanizing on the one hand, and bland, artificial, and sanitized on the other - it is no wonder that so many are turning towards a spirituality that preaches connectedness with the land and the sacredness of Nature. Further, if anyone has ever watched the sun rise from the top of a mountain, or walked through a field rich with a riot of spring flowers, felt the fury of a raging storm, or paused in midstep as a deer burst through the clearing ahead - one instinctively feels the awesomeness of the world around us. But Nature isn't just something Out There, away from man and his cities. I say that the whole world is full of power and meaning, every part of it from the arid desert wastes to the rocky beaches washed by the endless sea; primeval forests and sprawling cities - they are all a part of Nature, and so are we. Man thinks himself a thing apart, but we are bound by the subtle bonds that connect every living thing with every other living thing. We live in the midst of Nature - we breathe, eat, shit, love, dream, and die in Nature. Therefore it is silliness to "get back to Nature" - we never left it, nor is that even possible. What we can do is close ourselves up to the awareness of Nature, attempt to convince ourselves that we live in a nightmarish mechanical universe devoid of meaning and connection. And we suffer greatly for that blindness. But just as it is possible to will ourselves into the dream, it is possible to will ourselves to wake up from it, to recognize the wonder of our living earth, and our place within it. Part of doing that is to see the world and Nature as they really are - not just as we wish them to be. Nature isn't some kind of sickeningly sweet Hallmark card with a lion and a lamb lying down beside each other in a field of flowers with birds chirping overhead. By our human standards, Nature is inconceivably cruel. It is harsh and violent, and all things - from the vicious lion who falls upon the gazelle with a rapacious appetite, to the smallest microbe that infects the blood stream - exist by taking sustenance from the life of other things. It's a terrible - and yet beautiful - cycle that shows how intimately connected are life and death. The heartbeat of one creature quickens as that of another slows - counterpoints to the primal rhythm of Nature. There is so much death, so much seemingly needless loss. The tortoise lays a hundred eggs - and not ten of them will survive long enough to lay their own eggs. Yet, this, as it turns out, is a good thing - because if all 100 of those eggs grew to maturity and produced 100 of its own offspring - the world would soon be full of turtles, and there would be nothing left for them to eat. There is a wonderful pattern to Nature, a system of checks and balances that ensure the optimal health and survival of the whole. Some believe that man has broken with this pattern, and set himself up in opposition to the ways of Nature. They see the way that our cities grow up, disturbing the settled environments, poisoning the air and water and the very earth itself. And they say that cities themselves are inherently evil, and no good can come of them. Certainly, this has been the case in the past, and no one would deny that by our city-making we have altered the world greatly - though, perhaps, not forever. The world is ancient beyond our ability to reckon, and it has gone through wild changes before. Who can say that we are not a catalyst for yet another change, or that in ten millennia - a short time by earth's standards - there will be anything left of all our cities? This, however, is not the point I wish to argue - rather, I say that goodness can come from our cities, and further, they are just as holy as the high mountain or virgin forest - though, perhaps, they partake of a different kind of holiness. Paganism is about communing with the vital forces of
existence, about celebrating the sacredness of the land and
of where one lives. Instead of doing precisely that, many
Pagans hold to an idealized view of Nature, and despise the
places where they live. This, I think, is a great shame, and
something that must be remedied. We live in cities and
suburbs. They are our homes, they nurture us, provide for
our needs, intrinsically shape the lives that we lead. Yet,
how often do we acknowledge the beauty of our cities? Do we
stop to really see what a building looks like, notice the
grass that grows up between the cracks in a sidewalk, or the
shifting, swirling, madding patterns of people on their
lunch breaks? Have you bothered to actually look at the
faces of the people around you, etched by sorrow, lightened
by joy, harsh, youthful, every one of them human. Oh, and
there is magic in the city! The hopes and fears and hatreds
and loves and dreams of a million people coalesce into a
potent spiritual gestalt. It is no wonder so many great
artists live in cities! Before we built our cities, there
were spirits in the trees and rocks and rivers and mountains
and the very earth where we built our cities. Where do you
think those spirits went when we disrupted their homes? Do
you think they died when their trees were cut down, or their
hills paved over? Perhaps, or maybe they are there still,
the spirits of the city; spirits of buildings, instead of
trees; parks instead of mountains, concrete instead of
rocks; traffic lights instead of rivers. Try offering
prayers to these spirits; pour out libations of Diet Coke
and corn chips to them and see if they are not grateful to
you, for it has been a long time since they have been
remembered, and we take our living cities for granted all
too often. New rites for new Gods of the new world! |
