The World Behind It All

“Fairy tales are more than moral lessons and time capsules for cultural commentary; they are natural law. The child raised on folklore will quickly learn the rules of crossroads and lakes, mirrors and mushroom rings. They’ll never eat or drink of a strange harvest or insult an old woman or fritter away their name as though there’s no power in it. They’ll never underestimate the youngest son or touch anyone’s hairpin or rosebush or bed without asking, and their steps through the woods will be light and unpresumptuous. Little ones who seek out fairy tales are taught to be shrewd and courteous citizens of the seen world, just in case the unseen one ever bleeds over.”

― S.T. Gibson

This quote is one I see come up again and again in pagan and occult circles I run in and it always strikes a chord in me.

It is a reminder that the world we see is only part of something much larger, much more connected. Forests echo with life in the present and over time, culled by forest fires and rergrowing in a rhythm as sure as breathing. Old homes bear the weight of history, tears and laughter echoing down hallways for as long as it stands. Every person is a tale extending back untold generations.

And all of this rhythm and history and lineages comes together in something so much larger. We’ve all had those moments where we realize how big and live the world is. We feel that pulse behind everything, something we might call supernatural, but it’s actually very natural, but nature is really big and complex and everywhere. We’re just doing our best to understand it.

When you get to things that are traditionally supernatural it’s not hard to understand why people might believe them. In this big world we understand a slice of it really well but there’s that bigness to it all, and maybe it’s really big if you get my drift. As I’ve said in various forms, believing in gods, spirits, etc. may be necessary just to apprehend something much larger.

To deal with this bigness, we really do need things like folklore, myth, and more. These are ways to remind us of connectivity of the world. To know there are things outside of our everyday life, and to walk carefully lest we step disrespectfully.

Folklore and myths might not correspond 1:1 to reality – or even the bigger reality – but they are good reminders of that bigger reality. It’s hard to boil down that bigness into guides and the like, but tales and correspondence tables and legends are a good try. At least you keep thinking, at least you take some caution when you tread in the world.

People who aren’t mystically or occult-inclined, even the most materialist, still have their folklore and myths. The sports fan who has their rituals so their team wins. The people who talk to their beloved cars. The cup of coffee you have to have in the morning in just the right cup to get going. Everyone has their folklore and sense of the bigness of the world.

We need folklore to see the bigger world. We might as well admit it – and who knows what we can find when we do?

-Xenofact

Speculation on Spiritual Ferment

As you probably realize, I like doing zines. Chances are you’re reading this in a zine, have some of my zines, or will have my pitch you buying some. I like writing down my spiritual and related thoughts and hearing what people have to say.

Also they make a great gift! Hint.

Anyway as I’ve noted before I’d like to see more spiritual/mystical zines, especially ones about meditation and techniques for self-refinement. I mean yes there are great books, there’s a reason I own so much of the late Thomas Cleary’s translations, but there’s “several thousand years old” and “recent insights.”

This led me to an interesting speculation I’d like to share. I wonder if the current concept of publishing – that you should put out big honking books – is a disservice to “spiritual ferment.” Let me just get to the base of my thoughts.

Imagine spiritual exchanges via zines or some similar reusable, but focused small press. Be it an APA or a quarterly, the goal would be to both record findings, discuss, and dialogue. A bit like the old APAs as I’ve written about before. Such a situation would provide both well-designed and well-thought out written communication and an exchange of ideas.

Large, published works aren’t dialogues and people need dialogue to learn. Large, published works also have the problem of authority wearing you might take them too seriously – even if the author doesn’t intend that. Also maybe I don’t want to go through 250 pages to get 50 pages relevant to me – no offense.

Meanwhile, immediate dialogue is great, but sometimes constant immediate feedback has its own problems. It can be distracting or go off the rails. It can lead to groupthink. Also scheduling time to exchange ideas can be frustrating, and constant use of things like chat programs can be time-sucking in their own way.

But small pieces of work, focused, contemplated, in one’s own time but with a cadence of exchange? I intuitively feel there really is something there.

I’m probably influenced by old Taoist tales of people exchanging small books, papers, poetry, manuals, and so on. But maybe there’s something there to emulate.

Also sometimes the Taoists got wasted together and wrote really sarcastic poetry, but that’s thoughts for another post . . .

Cultivation For Cultivation’s Sake

So I set aside time for spiritual cultivation in my life. What I find weird is that’s very hard to talk about. Though I am informed by Taoist traditions, where “setting off to seek the Tao” is part of lore and history, our culture doesn’t seem to have an equivalent.

I’m not off to use this as therapy, despite the many benefits. Therapy is, well, therapy – and well worth everyone’s time. There are plenty of mental benefits to spiritual practice, but sometimes it’s useful to just work shit out. It also lets you focus on your practice and avoid spiritual confusion.

I’m not off to “optimize myself” and “be mindful of my work” or whatever you call “hijacking spiritual practice to be better at my job.” My job is my job, my practice is my practice. It’s nice if my job allows me to get insights, and nice if my spiritual work helps me out in my career. If I want to be better at my job, I’ll be better at my job.

I’m also not trying to make a spiritual career. If I want a new job or be a minister or whatever, then I’ll do that. I mean maybe I will some day. But that’s not the goal, but “spiritual hobbyist” doesn’t quite catch it either.

Oh, and I’m not writing a book. I mean yeah, maybe I might. I do make blog posts but that’s sort of the whole outreach/connect thing. But I’m not trying to produce something

I’m setting aside time for spiritual cultivation because that’s what I want to do. I want to be better, expand myself, seek wholeness, attain the Tao. That’s my goal, not these others things, because if they were my goal I’d so something else.

But too often I see spiritual practices assumed to be for work, or to make money, or as a substitute for dealing with your parental issues. There’s something about our culture that assumes spiritual practice can or should be something else.

It’s almost like we don’t have a language or a concept that recognizes “I am taking a significant portion of my time for spiritual growth” and have it respected and seen as normal. Or at least “acceptably eccentric.” I don’t even know how I’d express it to people, to be honest.

Maybe capitalism is part of it. We’re always taught to be hustling, making money, doing what’s profitable, etc. The idea of doing something for it’s own sake – spiritual or art or whatever – seems alien to many. The idea of giving up something (unless that makes you more money) seems weird.

Perhaps I need to find my own way to talk about it, to own that – and maybe I’ll be a good influence on others. Or at least make a small contribution to discussing it.

Xenofact