The myth of Memorial Day

There is the erroneous belief, often portrayed as (incorrect) knowledge that a myth is simply a made-up story. Not every fictional story is a myth. Kurt Vonnegut's Slapstick, or Lonesome No More is not a myth, it is a novel. Joseph Heller's Catch-22 is not a myth, it is also a novel. Philip K. Dick's Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep is not a myth, it's a novella. And Earnest Hemmingway's The Old Man and the Sea, is a long short-story, but it is not a myth. I have chosen to use American examples because for any number of reasons, Americans are more prone to myth-making and myth-believing that other folks. What is more, the size of the tale has nothing to do with whether a story is a myth, or even mythical, hence my inclusion of varying sized works.

For my purposes here, let me tell you what I mean when I use the word "myth". It is this: a myth is most often, but not necessarily always) a story whose design and intent is to point to something bigger than itself. The elements of the story may, or may not, be true; that is, they may, or may not, correspond and conform to the reality of actual events that once took place. They may simply be stories based on certain events that occurred or alleged to have occurred. But it doesn't matter. Most importantly, however, all myths start out well-intentioned to impress, inspire, or perhaps explain; most myths are harmless (because they have become ineffective ... they are no longer "believed"); but, in the end, all myths become destructive, especially when they are believed after having been exposed as untrue stories that point to no reality greater than themselves.

One of the worst, if not the worst, myths ever perpetrated is the Myth of Progress. This is the story that tells us that things, and by that the teller always means "the world in which we live" is getting better. It implies that there is a utopian, paradisiacal end to human (primarily, technological) development, but it's never had it's own story, rather it has always been presented as an obvious truth enclothed in a different set of "facts" each time it is told. A lot depends on who is telling the story and which point the teller is trying to make. It's such a shoddy myth, though, because it was never really true. Oh, don't get me wrong, we have things today that we never had before and some of them can be used for the betterment of all: things like soap and water-pumps and flush toilets, but most people in the world don't have these things and the people that have them aren't ready to share them with those who don't, so while they have made the world a better place for some, they haven't made the world a better place, so I have trouble seeing where the "progress" part comes in. But that's a whole other story.

No, my focus here are myths as we generally understand them: those stories that point to things greater than themselves and which we then believe to be true, even though they aren't. In fact, we tend to believe these stories all the more, the more we find out they're really "just myths"; that is, well-intentioned, made-up stories that simply shouldn't be believed anymore, because they have become, as all myths eventually do, destructive. They end up making things worse instead of better.

The reason this whole idea of myths and untruth and destructiveness are on my mind is because this is Memorial-Day weekend in the United States, and having originally hailed from there, I still have a connection to the place even though I left there so long ago. What is more, over this weekend, I will be, literally, bombarded by social-media memes all expressing the same mythical sappiness that every American who ever donned a uniform is a hero (or heroine) who did his (or her) part to ensure that all those meme-spreaders have the freedom to annoy the rest of the world with their own rather limited and, too often, self-serving worldview that they are somehow role models for the rest of us. Yes, what I hear so often from my fellow countrypeople, either directly or indirectly, implicitly or explicitly, is that if the rest of the world would just be like America and acknowledge that America is the greatest country in the world, well, the world would be a much better place. I know my fellow countrypeople are for the most part lovingly well-intentioned, but with loving well-intentionedness, cluelessness often goes hand in hand. Yeah, ya gotta love 'em, even if they are so annoying. Yet there's a dark side to this apparent harmlessness that needs to be acknowledged as well.

Don't get me wrong, I would be the last person to maintain that what Nazi Germany and Imperial Japan started in the middle of the last century was a good thing. There was, as they say, a mass of evil afoot. Even as much against war that I am, it's hard for me to think that "issue" could have been resolved peacefully. Still, it was a prime opportunity for myth-building, and that we did.

We Americans like to think we won that war, and some nasty tongues maintain that we haven't won a war since. Truth be told, like it's predecessor, World War I (the war to make the world safe for democracy, which also didn't work apparently), the Americans were extremely reluctant to even join in. There was a lot of mental calisthenics being performed and a lot of whining about "Europe" and "their problems" and all, but in the end, there were severe economic downturns that just weren't turning around, so it seemed like a good idea at the time to find a reason to get involved. If it weren't for the Japanese attacking its Pacific fleet -- which was stationed somewhere the Americans claimed belonged to them (though they really couldn't prove that they did) – we may not have gotten involved at all. But we got in right as things started going bad for the bad guys, and by 1945 we were on the winning side, so even thought primarily the Soviets (which we called the Russians and their ilk in those days) kicked Hitler's butt, with some help from the Brits (who had been kicked off the continent) and the French (who though already defeated organized some significant resistance). Of course, the Soviets, whom we generally didn't like then, liked even less later, and continue to dislike in the guise of Russians today, really took a beating in beating the Germans, so we, who suffered the least, who contributed more supplies and money than actual troops, and who had far fewer dead than anybody else, proudly stepped forward to accept the awards and accolades for victory. Americans have never been shy about accepting awards, even if they don't really deserve them.

But, be that all as it may, it was good that evil was stopped. Of course, given the fact that other than Hawaii, which not everybody thinks counts, nobody was invading America or fighting in its streets, or razing its cities to the ground with artillery and bombs, or setting fire to it with incendiaries, or starving its citizens to death in obscene and insane sieges. It was really not suffering all that much at all compared to everybody else, so when it was finally all over, the only country which had much infrastructure and production facilities in tact was, well, the United States. They also had an intact military and one that really wasn't weary of fighting yet. After all, they only got involved at the tail end of the whole affair. They were still fresh and idealistic and, if needed be, raring to go. The last man standing, so to speak, the one who had just showed up, declared himself the world's first superpower and all anybody else had to say was a tired and mumbled "whatever". And that's when America really did what it has always done best: it stepped in and showed everyone else just how easy it is to make money out of misery. We were now going to show the world how things really get done.

No, this isn't the version we read about in our history books, and it's not the version our parents or grandparents told us. It's a jaundiced recounting, however, of the real story. All the other stories we were told were, well you guessed it myths. The stories we were told about this were designed and intended to (a) make Americans feel good about themselves, even if they had not made the biggest contribution, (b) let everyone else know that it was America's duty – if not right – to take charge on the world stage, and (c) keep the door open for other, future, most likely unexpected opportunities to stay in charge.

No, I'm not saying that any of this was evil, or nefarious, or even bad. Americans tend to be a naïve breed, and I really think that more than anything else the United States simply wanted a relatively peaceful world in which to hawk their wares and make oodles of money. They stepped right in and organized the world monetary system, set up institutions to ensure these would endure (like the United Nations, the World Bank, the International Monetary Fund – and notice two of three deal with money), and made a sound effort to make the rules of the game such that everybody would get something in the deal, all properly allocated, of course, in terms conducive to the rule-makers.

But, things didn't stay that way. The next thing you know, America found itself embroiled in one armed conflict after the other. First there was Korea, which was such a mess that to this day everyone wants to forget about it. Then there was Southeast Asia, which the Brits had mucked up, then the French had mucked up (but what can you expect, really, look at how they ended up in WW2 before we "saved their bacon", as we like to say), so now it was our turn ... and we mucked up. History, unkind or not, makes the use of the words "lost" and "war" in the same sentence unavoidable. And, I have to admit, my fellow countrypeople, on the whole, have been having a bit of crisis of confidence since.

But, they push on in spite of themselves: the bloody suppression of so-called "revolutions" in South and Central America, the overthrow of democratically elected governments that were somehow deemed "unworthy", as it Iran, Chile, and even Greece, the over-the-top interventions in the Middle East – Gulf I, II, and Iraq – and now the so-called global war on terror (GWOT) which, as we all know, creates far more terrorists than it ever has or ever will ever eliminate. And each and every time we perpetuated an outdated myth or recast an old one in new garb or turned up the marketing of those elaborate and pompous stories we created about our good will, our humanitarian goals, our fervent desire to bring liberty and freedom to oppressed peoples, our moral obligation to a higher purpose. And each and every time we sent – no, we sacrificed, on the altar of power and profit – our best and brightest and bravest and – truth be told, poorest – so that the few could have even more than they already do and the rest of us could be left holding the bag (of death and misery and destruction and war crimes).

We all know, in the meantime, that some few people were getting filthy rich of all these schemes, that more often than not natural resources were the real motivators for our involvement (since we were willing to put into place and maintain in power some of the most oppressive and ruthless dictators known to the 20th century in order to ensure our "interests" were well represented), that yellow and then brown people were simply not fit for all that liberty, freedom and self-governance that we held in such high esteem and so more guns and more bullets and more bombs and more death and more destruction and more overt, physical intervention would be necessary to make the world safe for ... and here is where most of the non-American world simply draws a blank: just what is it that they were (and apparently are) so bent on doing. I wish I knew. When I look at it all, it just doesn't make a whole lot of sense to me. What am I missing?

But, the myth machine is still running full blast, cranking out stories to make all those sacrifices look like heroic deeds done for heroic purposes to achieve heroic ends. No one wants to think that all those young American men (and more recently, women) died in vain. I don't want to think it, I can assure you, but they can only not die in vain if the myth is true. We know in the meantime that the myth is not true, and the frenetic rushing about and patting of vets on the back and thanking them for their service is, I know, well-intended, but it's nothing more than the doomed-to-failure attempt to appease one's own deceived conscience.

This weekend, we should take time and make every effort to embrace all of those, living and dead, who were misused and abused by the myths. We should tell them all just how sorry we are that we allowed them to suffer for false honor and false glory. We should locate every single living vet who has been made homeless and see that s/he gets a home. We should find every vet who is suffering from whatever service-induced or even remotely-related physical or mental ailments and see that s/he gets proper treatment. We should stand up and let them, and every current service member know that we're no longer putting up with this crap: of allowing young people to be utterly destroyed for no other reason than silly stories that aren't even true. That means, of course, that we all have to take a stand for truth and actually do something. My bet is the silly stories will be retold as the barbeques get fired up and the beer chills on ice.

Happy Memorial Day.

Making stories true whether they are or not

Conspiracy theorists of a certain kind like to deny that we were ever on the moon. They denigrate that narrative by saying it's a myth. The most common use of the word "myth" is probably this one. When we want to stress the fictionality or untruth of a story, a tale, a narrative of any kind, we call it "just a myth".

There are stories that are documentably false, stories that have such a slight and small grain of truth in them that to even hint that they are real or true or accurate should be reason enough to doubt the intellectual integrity of the person making the claim. But, there are any number of such stories circulating and they are believed and cherished and held in high esteem nevertheless. The prime examples of which are those which somehow describe (some would go so far as to say define) our culture or nation or any similar larger-than-just-me group. It doesn't matter which particular culture or nation you take, they're all pretty much the same in this regard.

These stories are full of heroes and heroines, larger than life persons and deeds, catastrophic and cataclysmic events that threaten annihilation, superhuman feats of daring, unfathomable cleverness and wit ... the good guys always win, order is established (or restored), and if we would only keep these stories before us, we could live happily ever after. So, how is that in some cases we can slam others for propagating myths, but in certain other cases, we're willing to lay our lives down for a story we can verify is simply not true. That's one of the things that so fascinates me about human beings.

Some countries, like the Nordic ones for example, have actual old myths and sagas to call upon. Other, newer nations, like England, France, the USA have more recent histories, but their tales don't pale in comparison to the older ones. After all, they're just stories, they're just myths, so why do we get so flustered and hot under the collar when others, particularly someone from a different culture, calls them into question?

To many moderns -- or postmoderns, or whatever it is we think we are these days -- think that classical myths are simply childlike attempts to explain things the people couldn't understand. In a sense this is true, even today. Given our rather deficient understanding of history and the path humankind has traversed, given our overzealous belief in technology and our alleged advancements, we can't begin to appreciate them. If we can recognize, however, that what myths that we believe in do is give us some kind of common understanding of ourselves and who we are, then we can dig in a bit deeper and realize that perhaps the ideals they are trying to portray may be worth further consideration.

We obviously need new stories that bring us together, and we should be aware that it is easy to be blinded by one's own sense of greatness, or wanting to feel like more, or wanting some sense in one's life. What we need is to become aware of what these stories would mean if we could make them true. We need to be more conscious of their significance and the threats they bear. There are definitely two sides to the myth coin.

An iceberg sunk the Titanic, and it could happen to us

The thing about icebergs is you can't see most of what they are, but they're there anyway. The thing about prejudices is that you don't know where they come from, but they're there anyway. The thing about stereotypes is that you don't know why you believe them, but you believe them anyway. The thing about myths is that you don't know where they come from, but you believe them anyway as well. Just like we don't know how to account for 75% of the mass of the visible universe, we can't account for the motivations for most of what we believe and what makes us act the way we do.

Truth be told, we don't know what we're doing, nor why we're doing it most of the time. Why is that?

Sigmund Freud, G-d bless him, opened Pandora's box at the turn of the last century. We can think what we want about his theories on how the mind works, but one thing you can't take away from him is his insight into the fact that the unconscious determines much more of what we do and how we act than we would like to admit ... well, more than we are willing to admit. No, Siggie didn't get a whole lot right, but in that regard, he hit the proverbial nail smack on the head.

Just because we "know" this, doesn't mean for a second that we've done anything about it. Most of us are still driven by our unconscious. More of us are Mr. Hydes than we are Dr. Jekylls, whether we want to admit it or not. Why is that? Well, quite simply because we are (truly) afraid of shining the light of day (or knowledge or truth) on the dark (that is, unknown, unconscious, repressed) part of ourselves.

We like to think we are good, upstanding, and humane, yet, at night, when we turn off the lights, in the twilight prior to sleep, we are plagued by the ghosts of fear (of others), hate (of Muslims, or ), uncertainty (about how we're seen by others), guilt (perhaps someone has seen through our personal facade), and simple trepidation (how do we continue to keep up appearances). Our problem is that what we proclaim to be good, right, and proper is based on unconscious assumptions and beliefs that most of us don't even know we have. In other words, we have our own (personal) myths that we hold to be true.

In some cases, these myths tell us that we are the "good guys", that what we do is for the best of all, that our history is one of benevolence and enlightenment, that our intentions were always pure and that our actions, even when they fell short of their goal, were unselfish and noble. Yes, that is what we would like to believe, but for those who have taken the time to look honestly and intently in the mirror, we know that the reality has fallen rather short of the desire.

We in the West are not alone in this. It is, it would seem, a universal illness of our age. We like to think we are informed, knowledgeable, enlightened, even wise. And so our myths get a bad name, because we accept them blindly, without thinking, without consciousness.

Myths, however, are real, and they are true in that realm in which they operate. What we also need to know is that we must engage them as they are, and unlike the unmovable and unbreakable iceberg that sunk the world's mightiest ship, we can reshape and remold them into those stories who unfortunately tell us who we are, but mercifully, can show us who we really want to be.

Invisible heroes

There was a time when we could still be invisible. There was a time, not so long ago, when you could just blend into the background and nobody really knew you were there. You didn't have to be seen if you didn't want to be. The masses that surrounded you provided a degree of anonymity that we simply took for granted. Oh, sure, everybody was pushing you to "get out there", to "make yourself known", to "be your own person". That's what a competitive society expects, at any rate. And Warhol's dictum about everyone's 15 minutes of fame brought a few out of the woodwork that didn't necessarily have to be center stage. But, it was possible to stay out of the limelight, out of the spotlight, if you really wanted to.

Those days are long gone. There's nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. More of you is available to more people than you ever dreamed possible. Oh, everything out there is not all accurate, to be sure. There are contradictions and changes and reversals and who knows what else, but there's no real way to put it all together in a coherent picture. You're exposed, but you're incomplete. It all adds up to a something-like-you, but not really you, if you even really know who you are. More and more, that chaotic mass of perceptions and details and factoids is you ... and you for all the world to see.

If you can't get away anymore, what do you do? Like I said before, you have to be aware and take care. But the last time I mentioned that it was all about what's going on outside, out there, in the public -- and, as the FBI and NSA have so often reminded, almost public. The same tactics apply inside, in here where it's just between me, myself and I. Truth be told, that's the far more crucial realm, and it could be the last great frontier, if we had but the courage to go for it.

For all the chaos and mayhem most of them tend to cause, one of the fundamental tenets of all major religions has been this not-to-be-taken-lightly inner journey. The charge inscribed across the portal to the temple to Apollo at Delphi stated it about as simply as it gets: "Know Thyself". Throughout most of our history as human beings, this Quest, I'll call it, has played a central, constitutive part of our mythologies. Campbell's Hero With A Thousand Faces was part and parcel of our understanding of ourselves. Alas, we demythologized the world, became advanced, made progress, scientized and sanitized ourselves, and now our lives have become rather empty of meaning, but full of things and gadgets and opinions and attitudes, or whatever else it is from facing ourselves.

Back in the late 80s, there was a glimmer of hope that we might pick up the torch again, for example with Bly's Little Book on the Human Shadow, but the Wall fell and Capitalism allegedly seized the day and we were able to get intoxicated once again on things and progress and money and burning more oil and heating up the planet. If you're consumed with getting ahead, you've simply got no time for getting into yourself. Your Ego, sure, but the rest? Not so much.

After all, it's a risky endeavor with an uncertain outcome, and what is more, it could demand an heroic amount of effort, or even be, heaven forbid, dangerous. What kind of fool runs an errand like that?

Ask Shakespeare.

Who's going to celebrate?

We moderns are just silly enough to think that it was a good idea to decouple ourselves from nature, from the natural world around us. Oh, I'm all for modern conveniences and technology (to an extent), but losing sight of where one comes from in the end means never being able to figure out where you're going. You lose all sense of orientation.

I find it meaningful that two of the world's significant religions decided to have their holidays at this particular time. The fact that they are movable, that they can, and do, occur not on a specific day but at a specific time, tells me that the fest was there first, the reason came later. This does not diminish the significance of either of religious holidays nor the reason for their veneration in each of their complex of beliefs. After all, what should religions be doing other than helping us understand ourselves and our lives more deeply. And I believe that is precisely what the religious stories surrounding this event do.

The Passover story is a story of true liberty, the chance to go forth and establish a just and free society. Sure, we're all still working on that ... most people everywhere are still working on that, but the story reminds us, at a minimum, that this particular struggle is worth the effort. It tells us that true freedom is gained with others, not in spite of others. The Resurrection story is also a story of freedom, the ultimate second chance. It is a story that tells us that even when we screw up, there is still hope for us, but only if we stop thinking just of ourselves and start thinking of others as well. What both stories tell us, what they have in common, of course, is that they are about a new lease on life ... not just the lackadaisical, oh-I'm-feeling-better kind, but rather a deep, profound, existential lease of life.

It is our modern arrogance that too often prevents us from accepting and embracing the opportunities we are given. Myth, my friends, is simply truer than we might want to believe. The details are not the deciding factor, the moral of the story is. The stories being told right now -- mythologically, spiritually, cosmologically -- are worth listening to. We all have reason to celebrate.

What's to celebrate?

Sometimes I'm just naive enough to think that everybody knows why we have holidays. I'm always amazed then when I find out how many people don't. OK, maybe it's not necessary to know the exact formula for figuring out when Easter and Passover come, but seen cosmologically, there does appear to be a very long-standing tradition of why it's now.

The Easter story is pretty straightforward: a young Jewish rabbi is accused of rousing too much rabble, so the powers-that-be decide his number's up and they crucify him -- the standard abominable punishment of the day; contrary to expectations, however, he doesn't stay buried, was raised from the dead, met his disciples leading them to draw the conclusion that this man was in fact the long-promised Messiah ... thus (in very abbreviated form) Christianity was born. Easter, then, is Christianity's defining moment: no Easter, no Christianity.

Passover is perhaps a little more complicated, but not very: the Hebrews are slaves in Egypt, Moses, who was incidentally raised by the Old Pharaoh, is tasked by G-d to get the New Pharaoh to free the slaves. After a dramatic series of events, the last of which killed the first born of the Egyptians, but not the Hebrews (for the Angel of Death passed them over), the Pharaoh relents, lets them go and they leave; then, after wandering in the desert for 40 years, they settle in what is now Israel and become the Jewish nation ... thus (in very abbreviated form) Judaism was born. Passover, then, is Judaism's defining moment: no Passover (Exodus), no Judaism.

Aside from any religious or ideological issues, am I the only one that finds it odd that these two holidays should coincide. OK, it's not all that rare that two different groups may have holidays around the same time, but these two holidays are not just any old holidays. Instead, in both instances they are the holidays that more or less define these two groups.

Sure, I hear the skeptics already shouting "coincidence", but to me the fundamental significance of these holidays speaks against that. As we saw between the years, it was anything but a matter of chance that Christmas ended up where it is, but what we also saw was that there had been a long tradition of a particular type of holiday at that time. Is it really to unreasonable to think that the same forces might be at work here? I don't think so.

Time to celebrate?

It might be advisable to get out of the hole for a moment. There are plenty of things to explore there, and we can get back to it whenever we please. It may have escaped your notice, but we've got the big spring thing going on, and I'd be remiss if I didn't at least mention it.
Yes, for some it's Easter, of course, for others it is Passover. The close affinity of the two religions gives us the overlap.

Like Christmas, believe it or not, just when these holidays fall is also related to cosmological events. You will recall we have two solstices (when the sun is farthest and closest to the earth, the longest day and longest night, that is, the beginning of summer and the beginning of winter). You will also be happy to know we have two equinoxes as well, that is, days when the days and nights are of equal length. These occur when the sun crosses the equator going north (spring) or south (fall). Spring just recently sprang, so things are looking up. If you're not clouded in at night, though, you may want to check out the moon, because it is waxing (getting larger) and on Friday (the 6th, for most of us) it will be all filled up. We'll have our first full moon after the spring (that is, vernal) equinox. The first sabbath thereafter is when the holidays occur.

It's all very logical, isn't it? Perhaps. Just as I mentioned between the years, we moderns don't handle these kinds of things very well. It all seems to arbitrary, doesn't it? Well, actually, no ... at least not to one who is still aware of the fact that we humans, whether we like it or not, are still a part of nature and still very much influenced by it. When the moon is full, the tides are higher and water flows more strongly. When spring arrives, the plant realm awakens from it's winter sleep and things start to bloom. And our hibernating animal cousins awaken as well.

For anyone who wants to take it seriously, let's face it, this is precisely that point in the year when we get a new lease on life. That's reason to celebrate, isn't it?

And now?

Another way of asking would be: So what?

As I read it, the story is telling us most definitely that we do in fact have Free Will, that is the ability to choose, to defy, to say no, regardless of the consequences. When you consider how Adam & Eve were before they ate the fruit with how they are afterwards, there is a difference like night and day. Instead of the obliviously innocent, blithely ignorant creatures who passed their time in the Garden, we now have two mature human beings who have to go out and face the world ... just as the rest of us do every day ourselves. To my mind, their act of "defiance" was their initiation into humanity. It's who we are, and sometimes who we need to be. We are sometimes simply required to choose.

Life requires choices. Sometimes the consequences are unpleasant, sometimes dire, sometimes more wonderful than we can imagine, but we don't know unless we find the courage to choose. There are more than enough individuals in this world who are more than willing to let you know that it is anything but worthwhile to make your own decisions. Those are the petty tyrants, the wannabe authorities, the annoying instances of power who think they are masters of all they see. Well, they are ... if we allow them to be. It is well worth remembering that no other human being has real power over you unless you give that person the power.

If their threats are more than you are willing to endure, they have power. If you don't accept that, you are nevertheless free. If you are willing to give up your freedom because you fear the consequences, then you have to ask yourself whether the life you have chosen is really worth living. The moral of the story we have been considering is that saying no is not without its consequences, to be sure, but how much are you willing to sacrifice to be free?

Oh yes, the all the platitudes in this case are oddly enough true. There is no freedom without sacrifice, but the real question is what are you willing to wager in exchange? It's a tough question that demands a tough answer. When I look around, I can't say that I'm encouraged that there are very many who are really willing to make much of a sacrifice at all. You have to ask yourself nevertheless: what is freedom worth to you?

Should we duck for cover?

Stated in simplest terms, the story of Adam & Eve in the Garden of Eden tells us that decisions have consequences. In other words, we're responsible for the consequences that result from the decisions we make. The important point, though, at least to my mind, is not the consequences, rather, we are allowed to decide.

You will recall that Adam & Eve were forbidden to eat of the fruit of that particular tree under penalty of death. This is, for most people, the most drastic consequence of all. I don't know many of us who would blithely do something that we could believe would bring us certain death. Nevertheless, these two naïve and innocent humans did just that. Sure, we could say they were stupid. No one in their right mind would have made that choice, but that's arguing from now back to then. Regardless of who wrote the story, s/he chose for them to choose. The story tells us that we are allowed to choose, even if the consequences of our choices may be dire. Adam & Eve are, at least to me, the two bravest souls who have ever been described in literature. They just didn't defy some gangland boss or police officer or high-ranking military person or king or emperor or head-of-state. No, these two took it upon themselves to defy the ultimate Creator of the whole universe. Whether you believe in Him or not, in the context of the story, it is clear: you don't get any more powerful that this.

I'm sure there are those of you who are thinking, well the Serpent tempted them, he led them astray. But again, I say this is a false displacement of responsibility. If you look at the story closely, the Serpent didn't lie: though the penalty of death stood over their action, he told them they wouldn't die, and he was right. It's not just a matter of whom you choose to believe. The Serpent could have been wrong. No, in the end, Adam & Eve chose. Adam & Eve were responsible for their actions, and it was them who took this responsibility upon themselves.

To me, that took a lot of guts. It's not everybody who is willing, or able, to make a decision like that. Saying "no", defying authority, is an act of courage. And regardless of what you may think about the One exercising His authority, he could have done away with them, but He didn't. What's more, I can't help but think that He was just a little bit proud of his creations in the end. Anyone who is a parent has been in a similar, but certainly less existentially significant situation. There is also a satisfaction in seeing that your progeny will not just take anything thrown at them, even if it is from you.

The question quickly presents itself though: is there enough of this in the world right now (or was there ever)? Have we learned the lesson ourselves?

Just a story?

The last thing I'm trying to do is instigate a theological debate. Stories like the one of the "Fall" can be used theologically, but they don't have to be. The stories, whether we like it or not, are part of our heritage and tradition, so simply ignoring them isn't wise either.

There are two issues involved here: one is purely theological, the other can be, but doesn't have to be. The former is, of course, the notion of "sin" in general, "Original Sin" in particular. As Rhett Butler so eloquently formulated it in Gone With the Wind: frankly, I don't give a damn. If you're not a follower of the affected religion, then it probably doesn't matter to you either, and to me, that's not the important issue in the story. No, the other, not-necessarily-theological issue is more interesting to me: were Adam & Eve in a position to defy G-d; did they defy G-d; did they have the ability to say "no"? The issue addressed here is anything but a simple one, for what we are talking about, at bottom, is the notion of Free Will.

This has been a hotly debated topic in more fields than just theology for longer than any of us can remember. Biologists, zoologists, anthropologists, ethnologists, sociologists, psychologists, and other students of human nature have definitely put in more than their two-cents' worth over the years. I'm not sure there is a definitive answer to the question, but as I read the story, we do, and that is not without its consequences. Let me tell you what I mean.

For the purposes of our discussion, it is relevant whether G-d knows what they will do, how they will decide. We're not looking at the story of evidence of G-d's intentions or omniscience or omnipotence, rather we are only concerned with our two human participants and what they do. Well, we know what they do: they eat of the fruit, even though the One "in charge" forbade them to do so. In other words, even expressed mundanely, they disobeyed. To me, this is the most important point in the story. We (humans) have the capacity, the ability, the obligation (?) to sometimes say "no", to sometimes say, "I'm not going to do what I'm told". Granted, the One in charge seemingly comes down on our two no-sayers like a ton of bricks, but to me this only says that there are consequences to our saying "no". It doesn't mean they are necessarily negative, just don't be surprised if they are. Does this mean that the story is telling us "don't say no, or you're in for big trouble"? Personally, I don't think so, but that's an issue that will have to wait until next time.

And what happened here?

Saying "no", at least in the sense I've been talking about it lately, is, in a manner of speaking, an act of defiance. This change of register (that is, using bigger words to describe everyday things), increases the significance of the thought. The issue now becomes one of how willing are we to defy authority. How far are we willing to go? Is it really an issue at all? I think it is.

Our Western tradition has handed a story down to us that deals with the notion of "defiance". At least one of the three western religions has even made it one of the centerpieces of its doctrinal canon. I'm talking about the story of "the Fall", as it is sometimes known, and the doctrine that has been built upon it is that of "Original Sin".

For those of you who tend to avoid traditional literature, allow me to give you a quick recap of the story: G-d creates the universe and within it there is a special place called the Garden of Eden. This is literally paradise on earth. In this garden, he places man (Adam) and woman (Eve). He then tells them they can more or less do what they want and eat what they want, except – and this is the key point – the fruit of the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil, and this under penalty of death. All is well until an unnamed serpent appears and tells Eve who just happens to be in the vicinity that she really won't die if she eats of the fruit, so she does, and immediately turns around and gives it to Adam (who had to be near enough to hear everything) and he eats too. And that's when it happens ... bam! they realize they're naked, make themselves some makeshift clothes out of fig leaves, because, oddly enough, they're not dead.

OK, it's an abridged version, I'll grant you that, but the real question is: what happened here? Is this just another silly story? Is it some long-forgotten myth that was just a vain attempt to explain something that we humans didn't understand until we got smarter? What can be the possible value of a story like this one? And more: even if you are starting a religion, is this where you start? Did these two hapless souls defy G-d? Did they commit a sin?

I won't be able to answer all of these questions today, of course, but they really are worth thinking about. Regardless of how we feel about the use (or abuse) that has been made of the story, one valid point remains: it is one attempt we have made to explain to ourselves why we are as we are. And if for no other reason, it's worth thinking about. So think about it ... at least till next time.

Four colly birds

On the fourth day of Christmas, we should take the time
to think of those others whose lives aren't as fine
as ours, in their fullness, their richness and glee,
for much suffering results from unintentional greed.

Before pursuing the thread of meaning which was introduced yesterday, I'd like to stop for a moment and reflect upon the relationship between light and spirituality that was mentioned as well. For as long as I can remember, and I'm pretty sure for as long as anyone can remember, there has been an intimate connection between Light and Spirit, between Light and whatever it is we conceive a God-like entity to be. Prior to monotheism, the sun literally played the light role. Within the monotheistic traditions, God was associated with light. What is more, even in the non-theistic religions, such as Buddhism, candles and light play no insignificant role. Why might that be?

Regardless of any other associations we may be carrying around in our heads, anyone who has ever taken a closer look at light itself cannot help but be amazed. OK, a bit of stretch. We can't see light. If you look into a container full of only light, all you will see is darkness. What we see, literally, are those objects from which light is being reflected. We don't see light, we can only perceive its reflection. And for those of you that are now having thoughts of mirrors forming in your heads ... yes, we have to ask ourselves perhaps which side of the looking glass we're on.

Seriously, however, light may be the most fascinating thing in our universe. Nothing can accelerate faster (for you neutrino buffs ... Einstein only spoke of acceleration, not velocity), but even more amazing, it is the one thing that can apparently be two things at once. When speaking of light, we most often hear words like "ray" or "wave", for light does in fact behave like a wave, under certain circumstances. Strangely enough, though, light can also be found in particle form, as photons, as they are called. In other words, sometimes light is a wave, sometimes a particle. When is it one, and when is it the other? The answer, as is so often the case in life, is "it depends".

The situation plays a big part in it, of course, but at the "moment of truth", it appears that the light "knows" what it needs to be and expresses itself appropriately. As strange as that may sound, there is a strong case to be made for light "making the decision" itself. Expressed in simplest terms, light apparently shares certain properties of consciousness. I certainly don't expect you to take my word for it. A well-argued and well-documented presentation can be found in Arthur Young's Reflexive Universe. (For those of you who don't know of him, Young is the person who figured out how to make helicopters fly.) Could it be that light itself is the link between the physical and metaphysical? It's hard to say, but it certainly gives us something to think about at this reflective time of year.

Three French hens

The third day of Christmas takes on a new air.
We're tempted to work but we must be aware
that this is the season to look deep inside
for hope and for peace in which we may abide.

The modern individual "knows" that myth is a dirty word. We use the word to describe anything, particularly statements and stories that we believe to be unabashedly made up, pure fictions. One of the goals of 19th century science was to demythologize everything, and we have to admit that if they have got us to use the term "myth" as a derogatory term, they did a pretty good job.

Nevertheless, we have seen over the past week that there is more to myth than just silly made up stories. The whole reason for having Christmas now, the reason that there has been some kind of celebration at this time of year for almost as long as their have been humans in northern climes is that something occurs that can only happen now. The sun "dies" and is "reborn" and through its "sacrifice" the rest of us can live. Overstated? Well, yes and no.

On the one hand, we have a very nice metaphorical description of what is happening cosmologically. (And for those of you interested in just how widespread this kind of mythological description of reality may be, I would suggest Santillana & Dechend's Hamlet's Mill.) Scientists and non-scientists, materialists and non-materialists alike agree that the days get shorter until 21 December, and afterward they start getting longer again (until they reach their longest point around 21 June and then they start getting shorter again). This is the yearly cycle and this cycle is such an intimate part of our lives that we give it absolutely no thought at all. What is more, because we never think about it, we don't really care about it. And, as we all know, what we don't care about, doesn't matter, and what doesn't matter is meaningless. In other words, what was once a central (or at least more prominent) part of our lives has become meaningless, have our lives in general become more meaningless?

This brings us to a very important question: what gives meaning to our lives? I know it is one we don’t think about very often, but that was also something that contributed to this special time of year. The sun is at its weakest, and we were, traditionally at least, weaker as well and in the, literally, least physical time of year. The long, cold, dark nights of winter were an excellent opportunity to reflect. The festival of light was an opportunity to strengthen ourselves innerly for the challenges which were soon coming again "out there" in the world. In other words, for a variety of reasons, physical, cosmological, and mythical, this was a spiritual (or at least, metaphysical) time of year. To paraphrase the late, great John Lennon, all we are saying, is give myth a chance.

Two turtle doves

The second day of Christmas falls
here without stores and without malls.
Just family, friends, those we hold dear
especially close this time of year.

Today is a holiday in Europe, a real holiday, with closed stores and festive programs. It's called Boxing Day in the UK, but if you're interesting in why, you can either ask a Brit or just google it. I would prefer to pick up where I left off yesterday, and the day numbered two seems to be a good place to start. After all, we were talking about two theories weren't we?

Science is a fascinating way of looking at the world. It uncovers bizarre creatures at the bottom of the oceans, identifies viruses and bacteria that are harmful, it has provided us with great boons, like penicillin, and great banes, like nuclear energy (just think of the waste). But, we should keep in mind it is only one way of looking at the world. It does well with facts, but there is more to the world than facts.

What about art? That is also a valid way of seeing the world around us. The realism of a Rembrandt, the irrealism of a Picasso or Dali, the emotion of a sculpture by Michelangelo are all valid expressions of feelings, of something deeper within us that can be moved (either positively or negatively). Art can be enraging or inspiring or any range of feelings in-between. Aren't feelings a legitimate part of our make-up as human beings? I think they are.

And what about things that we simply have difficulty dealing with, such as psychic phenomena like telepathy or remote viewing, or even the existence of God? Science is not in a position to make a statement because it is beyond the realm of the five senses to which they have restricted itself. Art cannot address it because these phenomena have something almost physical and something non-physical about them, something that goes beyond feelings themselves.

In other words, the simple dichotomy we have made for ourselves – it's real or it's not – is not really adequate to the task. We have to allow ourselves to explore other realms with other methods if we are to truly understand who we are, why we are here, and what we should be doing with ourselves.

Our forebears, among other things, attempted to encapsulate this "more" of which I am speaking in their own expression of knowledge, in myths. We should be grateful to them for what they have bequeathed to us, even if we don't understand it anymore. We need to give myth (and metaphysics) another, a fair, chance. Who knows, maybe all of us will be the better for it. It presupposes, however, that we talk with one another, not just to – or worse, at – one another.

A partridge in a pear tree

Best wishes for all at this time of year,
days of peace and full of cheer.
Some simple hope, a kindly smile
can make dark days the more worthwhile.

For those of you who are celebrating: Merry Christmas. Today is not only Christmas Day, it is the first day of Christmas as well.

Why today? If you recall from the time-before-last on the 21st, the sun reaches its lowest point (nadir) in the Ecliptic on it's yearly journey (from a geocentric perspective, of course). It will be recalled that it stays there for three days. In other words, on the third day (that is, the 24th) it starts its ascent, it is, if you'll excuse the metaphor, "born again" for the coming year. Births are beginnings, so it seems fitting that the festival of renewed light and life begin now.

Regardless of our reasoning, though, we would all agree that without the sun, there is no life on earth. Granted, there's a finely tuned relationship involved, but it is easy to understand why the sun has been celebrated as the Giver of Life through the ages. Yet there is another paradox involved. At this time, the Earth and Sun are closer to each other than at any other time during the year, but still, in the Northern Hemisphere, it is as cold as gets. This is because the earth's axis is titled about 23 deg. from upright, so at this time, the sun's rays only obliquely hit the Northern Hemisphere. In other words, the effect of the sun is qualitatively different – it's the weakest – than, say, at Midsummer when its effects are the strongest.

It is here that I start to feel a bit sorry for the materialists amongst us. Differences are differences, be they material or otherwise, but they only have one kind. Given that 75% of the mass of the universe is unaccounted for, even our strongly scientific friends indicate that there is apparently more to cosmological phenomena than meets the eye. Until the rise of empiricism and its blitzkrieg on our thinking, really around the time of the Enlightenment, we had another option. We had a physical realm, but we also had a metaphysical one as well. As we know, the latter was given a pretty bad rap and relegated to untouchable status, but it hasn't gone away. We should note that it the existence of the metaphysical was not disproven, it was simply argued away. That is, if you accept the materialist argumentation, there is no metaphysical, but you don't agree, to them, you are simply displaying intellectual weakness.

Let's face it though, it's not intellectual weakness at all. One theory says there is nothing more than the physical. Another theory says there is more, at least the physical and metaphysical. I would expect there would be a discussion and debate amongst the theorists, but what I mostly see is ignorance: one side simply ignoring the other. I believe we can do better than that.

Hope in the darkness

The experience of dark and cold can call forth feeling of despair. Food was in short supply, perhaps one family or group didn't have enough to make it through these times. But those who had more, could and did share, for it was understood that life could be better if more, not fewer, survived. Fire brought warmth, but so did the huddling together around the fire, and so did the sharing. At worst, you knew you were not alone. At best, you had hope for the future.

These, too, are feelings we share even today. They express themselves perhaps in different ways, but the feelings are the same. Our forebears weren't children, they weren't child-like in their innocence and at bliss in their ignorance. It is hard to believe that there were Einsteins among the cavemen. Someone figured out how to handle and manage fire. Someone thought the wheel could be a good idea. Yet, these days I often sense just a trace of arrogance, of (unwarranted) superiority because the least among us know more than those folks could ever have dreamed of. Aren't we just grand? But are we? We may know how to download apps to our smart phone, but do we know how to share with and care for each other? We may have indoor plumbing and the latest microwave, but raise another person's spirits enough that they survive until spring? I'm not so sure.

While we moderns may think we prefer snazzy formulas and differential equations to encode our knowledge, for millennia this was done in stories, poems, and songs. The myths of the Ancients, whether we like it or not, encapsulated an extent and degree of knowledge – of nature, the universe, the movements of the planets, the cycle of the seasons, when to plant, when to harvest, when to celebrate, and how to hope. This was a knowledge meticulously collected, constructed and preserved because of it survival value. We like to think today that we don't need any of this any more, but a quick look around by a half-observant eye tells you that much of what we see is tenuous, fragile, hollow, insubstantial, and downright disgusting. Don't get me wrong, just as there were cavemen Einsteins, there were cavemen jerks and thieves and exploiters. What they bequeathed to us, however, was not the worst of themselves, but their best, that is, their myths. Why, because they are such cute stories. I doubt it. Rather perhaps that we might learn sooner what they simply learned too late: cooperation with each other and with the world around us is a sustainable strategy; competition only ever gets you short-term gains. It is simply too selfish for its own good.

Over the next couple of weeks, then, I'd like to revisit one of these mythical constructs to see if there is not something therein that we can cull out for today … and, it has more to do with each of us than it does with anything else.

The Mythical structure of consciousness

With the advent of the Cro-Magnons, the human became a tool-making individual, also one who formed into larger social structures. As Feuerstein (1987) points out, it is clear from the archaeological finds that the Cro-Magnons had evolved a symbolic universe that was religious and shamanistic. Part of this appears to have been a keen interest in calendric reckoning, and with it we may presume the existence of a fairly complex mythology (p75). This structure can be considered two-dimensional since it is characterized by fundamental polarities. Word was the reflector of inner silence; myth was the reflector of the soul (Feuerstein, p79). Religion appears as the interaction between memory and feeling (Feuerstein, p87f). The person is beginning to recognize himself as distinct from others. The next 30,000 odd years or so spent developing these various mythologies. Language is becoming ever more important, it will be noted, and not only receptive, but active, language at that. Not the ear, but the mouth is important in making transparent what is involved in being and life. The mouth now becomes the spiritual organ. We witness, as well, the initial concretization of the "I", a kind of proto-individual.

Many myths deal explicitly with humanity's (unperspectival) separation from nature. Witness the story of the Fall in Genesis (and its admonition to go forth and dominate nature); and the myth of Prometheus and the giving of fire to humans. These both indicate a strong awareness of the human's differentness from nature. Humanity is coming into its own, although it is anything but independent of nature. One could characterize this as a two-dimensional understanding of the world. Within the circle of believers is where the important acts of life take place. The mere forces of nature have a beingness, often anthropomorphized, but a beingness nevertheless. Myth, then, or the mythologeme is the primary form of expression of this period. Subsets of this basic form would be the gods, symbols and mysteries. These figures provide the emerging consciousness with imaginative images around which to center man's knowledge and understanding of the world. If the Magic structure of consciousness is the emotional aspect, then the Mythical structure is the imaginative one. It is this fact that makes mythology so difficult for us moderns to deal with. The plethora of images (gods) and the seeming inconsistent pantheons of deities brings the rational mind quickly to confusion. Who can keep track of all these figures, their meanings, their correspondences and their associations? This is the time of the dream.

Up until this time, that is in the magical structure of consciousness, souls and afterlives were not of great importance (at least we do not find a lot of evidence thereof). Yet in the fully developed mythical consciousness, this is important. The entire civilization of Egypt, as we know it, revolved around this very issue. When we are told, then, in certain rosicrucian documents that we must descend into Egypt, we are being told that we must regain, not revert to, our mythical heritage.

Mouths begin to play a more important role. Not only is the shaman and wise person of the tribe a repository of wisdom, others, the poets, such as Homer, begin to play a more important role in the culture. And this does not really begin to happen until the mythical structure of consciousness. The "I" is not yet fully developed, to be sure, but it has developed to that point that it recognizes and demands a separation from nature, from its environment. We can take this as evidence of an increasing crystallization of the ego. We are on the way to selfhood.

Of course, mythology is very much alive today. This explains the popularity of Joseph Campbell and his work on myth. It explains the appeal that Robert Bly and his "Gathering of Men" workshops have. What both Campbell and Bly do is tell stories: imaginative, intuitively understood stories that reveal to us things that our current rational mode of thinking prohibits us from knowing. We have much to learn from myth, however, and should be ever aware of its influences.

References
Feuerstein, G. (1987) Structures of consciousness: The genius of Jean Gebser - An introduction and critique, Lower Lake/CA, Integral Publishing.

Gebser, J. (1986) The Ever-present Origin, Authorized translation by Noel Barstad with Algis Mikunas, Athens/OH, Ohio University Press [originally published 1949]. (EPO)