A Poetic Sense of Life

[Another post from my archives. This one was originally posted on February 1, 2010. It is about the unique things we can learn, or be reminded of, when we listen to our children. My daughter is now 27 years old, and I am still learning things from her, but I'll always treasure the glimpses she helped me to see from a child's point-of-view so many years ago.]

“Whoever does not receive the kingdom of God like a child shall not enter it.” Luke 18:17 (RSV)

Mircea Eliade was a religious historian who wrote many books about mythology. He made it quite clear that ancient people were not simple-minded. They were every bit as sophisticated in their thinking as we modern people are. The difference is that their mode of thinking was mythopoeic – mythopoetic, if you will – while our modern mindset is scientific and analytical. Reading Mircea Eliade convinced me that myth is not falsehood. Myth is truth, spoken from a poetic mind set.

Robert Coles is another author I would recommend. A child psychiatrist and Harvard professor, he wrote a book called The Spirituality of Children in which he showed us that children have a much greater grasp of the truths of life than we adults often give them credit for. I think that children have that poetic sense that our ancient ancestors had and that all of us once had before it was socialized out of us.

When my daughter Elaine was six years old, I overheard a remarkable conversation between her and her playmate. They were involved in an art project painting rocks at our dining/arts-and-crafts table. Elaine (while painting a rock) said, "There's the right color! I knew God would show me."

Her friend said, "God is in my heart."

Elaine replied, "There's Mother God and Father God. Mother God is the Earth and Father God is up there watching over us." She made a big sweep of her arm as she said this. "Father God can't watch everyone at the same time, but Mother God can."

Her friend responded, "There's two – there’s God and Jesus."

To which my daughter replied, "Well, I know Mother God very well – I'm like her."

Her friend, not exactly following Elaine's statement said, "I like her to."

"Do you sway with the grass?" Elaine asked her. "Mother God sways with the grass," swaying her arms and her body back and forth as she spoke.

At six years of age, my daughter had a remarkable gift. She had latched onto a feminine identification with the divine. "I know Mother God very well – I'm like her... Mother God sways with the grass."

Elaine had talked to me before about her ideas. I once told a theologian friend of mine about a conversation I had with her about Mother God and Father God when she was four years old. She said, "It's hard for me to say something about Father God, but it's easier to talk about Mother God." I asked her why that was. She said, "Well, Father God – I don't really know him, but I know Mother God. I was in Mother God's belly before it was time to be in my mother's belly to be born. You see, I have two mothers: Mommy and Mother God."

I had marveled at her honesty and insight. My thought was that she captured the notion of the imminence of God vs. the transcendence of God. My theologian friend's comment was that Elaine's idea was "classic Meister Ekhart." Not bad company for a young observer of life. My daughter is a sophomore in college now. My hope for her is that she will always remember the God who is like her, and that she never forgets how to sway with the grass.

*   *   *

[As a postscript, you can see from the essay above that Elaine had an early start in art. She is now working out of an art studio and teaching art to college students after having earned her graduate degree from the Cranbrook Academy of Art. She currently has a studio at Ground Floor Contemporary art gallery. To view some of her artwork, visit her website at http://efkinnaird.wix.com/elainefarleykinnaird.]

And  -  She has exhibits in two art shows opening this week:

Opening Reception is tomorrow, Sept. 7, 2017 5:00 - 7:30 p.m.

111 Richard Arrington Jr Blvd, Birmingham, AL 

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______________________

Top photo : Grassy Field by Katalin Szarvas

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Flashback: A Poetic Sense of Life

[Continuing in my re-posts from the past, this one was originally posted on February 1, 2010. It is about the unique things we can learn, or be reminded of, when we listen to our children. My daughter is now 26 years old, and I am still learning things from her, but I'll always treasure the glimpses she helped me to see from a child's point-of-view so many years ago.]

“Whoever does not receive the kingdom of God like a child shall not enter it.” Luke 18:17 (RSV)

Mircea Eliade was a religious historian who wrote many books about mythology. He made it quite clear that ancient people were not simple-minded. They were every bit as sophisticated in their thinking as we modern people are. The difference is that their mode of thinking was mythopoeic – mythopoetic, if you will – while our modern mindset is scientific and analytical. Reading Mircea Eliade convinced me that myth is not falsehood. Myth is truth, spoken from a poetic mind set.

Robert Coles is another author I would recommend. A child psychiatrist and Harvard professor, he wrote a book called The Spirituality of Children in which he showed us that children have a much greater grasp of the truths of life than we adults often give them credit for. I think that children have that poetic sense that our ancient ancestors had and that all of us once had before it was socialized out of us.

When my daughter Elaine was six years old, I overheard a remarkable conversation between her and her playmate. They were involved in an art project painting rocks at our dining/arts-and-crafts table. Elaine (while painting a rock) said, "There's the right color! I knew God would show me."

Her friend said, "God is in my heart."

Elaine replied, "There's Mother God and Father God. Mother God is the Earth and Father God is up there watching over us." She made a big sweep of her arm as she said this. "Father God can't watch everyone at the same time, but Mother God can."

Her friend responded, "There's two – there’s God and Jesus."

To which my daughter replied, "Well, I know Mother God very well – I'm like her."

Her friend, not exactly following Elaine's statement said, "I like her to."

"Do you sway with the grass?" Elaine asked her. "Mother God sways with the grass," swaying her arms and her body back and forth as she spoke.

At six years of age, my daughter had a remarkable gift. She had latched onto a feminine identification with the divine. "I know Mother God very well – I'm like her... Mother God sways with the grass."

Elaine had talked to me before about her ideas. I once told a theologian friend of mine about a conversation I had with her about Mother God and Father God when she was four years old. She said, "It's hard for me to say something about Father God, but it's easier to talk about Mother God." I asked her why that was. She said, "Well, Father God – I don't really know him, but I know Mother God. I was in Mother God's belly before it was time to be in my mother's belly to be born. You see, I have two mothers: Mommy and Mother God."

I had marveled at her honesty and insight. My thought was that she captured the notion of the imminence of God vs. the transcendence of God. My theologian friend's comment was that Elaine's idea was "classic Meister Ekhart." Not bad company for a young observer of life. My daughter is a sophomore in college now. My hope for her is that she will always remember the God who is like her, and that she never forgets how to sway with the grass.

*   *   *

[As a postscript, you can see from the essay above that Elaine had an early start in art. She is now working out of an art studio and teaching art to college students after having earned her graduate degree from the Cranbrook Academy of Art. She currently has an exhibit on display at Ground Floor Contemporary art gallery. To view some of her artwork, visit her website at http://efkinnaird.wix.com/elainefarleykinnaird.]

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Image and Likeness

(Why the "New Atheists" Are Late to the Party and Limited in their Outlook)

The Likeness of God

Detail from Michelangelo's Sistine Chapel

It’s a paper tiger that the “new atheists” love to trot out: that image of God as an old man in the sky that they cannot believe in. They are often heard speaking out against the concept of a God sitting in the clouds ready to ready to smite erring humans. While they are justified in discounting that image of God, they are a little late in coming to the party. In reading the biblical authors, we see that there is a long-running attempt to discount that notion within the sacred texts as well. Within the pages of the Hebrew Scriptures and in the Christian Bible one can see that people’s concept of God was something that evolved over time. Primitive concepts often gave way to new understandings.

Putting Away the Wrathful God

Moses, as envisioned by Michalangelo
carved in stone like so many commandments

One of the few places in the Bible that presents an actual picture of God as the angry wrathful man up on high, which some mistakenly see as THE biblical view, is when God spoke to Moses at Sinai. The notable thing about that divine encounter is that MOSES QUICKLY CORRECTED THE ALMIGHTY, moving God away from wrath and toward compassion (Exodus 32: 10-14). What escapes many faithful readers as well as critics is that even in the earliest recording of scripture, the human writers of the sacred text saw a need to steer away from the concept of a wrathful God.

A few years ago, I posted a light-hearted commentary on that passage in Exodus (Human Reason Calms an Angry Deity -- with the subtitle, "What to do when God shows his ass"). Rabbi Aaron Alexander, in an article on Huffington Post, refers to commentary from the Babylonian Talmud showing how God needs the human factor. Quoting Rabbi Abbahu:

Were it not that a verse of Torah fully spelled it out, it would never have been possible to make such a [theological statement] statement suggesting God's dependence on a human. The verse teaches that Moses seized the Holy Blessed One, like a person who grabs his friend by the garment. He said to him, 'Lord of the world, I shall not let you go until you forgive and pardon them.' (Babylonian Talmud, Tractate Berakhot, 32a)

Mythic Understanding

Some of the richest as well as the most grappling religious writings come from the Babylonian rabbinic period. I think this is because they were living in the highest culture of the time and dealing with the devastation of their own culture. It is from that kind of struggle that deep stories emerge. We miss something important when we continue to look at God in literal terms, tying to "get it right." We miss the point that the myths we tell speak very deep truths about our own inner nature. For example, this story of Moses' dialogue with God is reflective that within the human heart, there is an immense wrathful anger that is quite dangerous, but there is also a very strong compassionate quality. Both of these qualities of our own nature have the potential either to wreak havoc or to nurture the common good.

In the New Testament book of Acts, Paul described God as the one "in whom we live and move and have our being." The apostle Paul, who grew up as a Jew in the Hellenistic culture of the Mediterranean world was speaking to Greeks and harking to the wisdom of Greek poets as he attempted to bear witness to the God of the Hebrews. Paul, as he would indicate in some of his letters, had mystical experiences on occasion which shaped his understanding of God within his own Judeo-Hellenistic culture. His is definitely not an anthropomorphic image of a god removed from creation and humankind, but rather one in which the divine is intimately connected to all that we see and experience. He describes a reality that is in us, around us, and enervating our very existence. Paul's vision is certainly a far cry from an old man bonking heads  from on high.

The Stories We Tell

Mircea Eliade wrote about myth and religion. He talked about how human beings apprehend the sacred in the midst of ordinary life by way of ritual and religion. Reading some of his works about ancient myth and religious practices helped me to realize that the ancient peoples were not simple-minded, as we moderns sometimes assume. I stated before that a difference was that "their mode of thinking was mythopoeic while our modern mindset is scientific and analytical." Eliade understood that myth is not falsehood; myth is truth spoken from a mythopoeic mindset – one might even say a poetic mindset.

Meister Eckhart, 13th century mystic, said "That which one says is God, he is not; that which one does not say, he is more truly that." I would concur. There are no words we could conjure that would scale the heights or plumb the depths of the divine. I would add, however, that whatever one says about God (or the devil for that matter) says something very true about the nature of humanity. The stories we tell are ingenious ways of communicating inner truths that we are often blind to when speaking in matter of fact, day-to-day language.

One of the easiest ways to avoid looking inside ourselves to see our own humanity, and to acknowledge who we really are, is to discredit mythic language and sacred speech as falsehoods, or relics of the past.  Carl Jung was a pioneer in showing how our mythic archetypes reveal much about the human psyche. Jean Shinoda Bolen is a psychiatrist and author whom I had the privilege of hearing years ago. Two of her books, Gods in Every Man and Goddesses in Every Woman, draw upon Jungian concepts of inner archetypes to help people understand why we do the things we do, and to learn how to find a sense of wholeness and purpose.

The poet Robert Bly has done similar things in his work with the Mythopoeic Mens’ Movement, and his book, Iron John, which explores the fairy tale from the Brothers Grimm collection. He affirms the wisdom of ancient story to help modern men to begin to understand why they feel disconnected and how they can make their way back to inner wholeness and connection. Having a poetic mindset, Bly was able to see the wisdom to be found in the ancient stories that emerged from older cultures.

So it is quite alright not to believe in a god who is “the old man up in the sky,” though you are still somewhat behind if that is as far as your disbelief has taken you. There are limitless sacred wonders to apprehend, whether we look outward to the physical world, or inward into the realm of the soul. To gain some insight into who we are and what in the world we are up to, I would highly recommend listening to some old, old stories.

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Hope Is Reborn Every Spring

Myth runs deeply in any culture, even down to the very core where collective memories are held which individual minds have all but forgotten. How else can you explain the joy of Easter? In the Bible Belt of the Deep South, even conservative fundamentalists seem to have no qualms about celebrating a holiday named after the Great Mother Goddess of Northern Europe, Eostre (a.k.a. Eastre). Even though the holiday was given Christian trappings centuries ago, the term "Easter" is nowhere to be found in the Bible. Easter is, after all, associated with the vernal equinox as was the ancient rite of the Mother Goddess, whose name the holiday still bears. This makes sense to us as we live within the natural rhythms of the earth. When we begin to see new life arising all around us, and we feel the chill of winter letting go, we naturally feel the hope of new life deep within us. 

The heart celebrates; the mind later tries to give meaning to the experience. It is only natural that the greatest hope that Christianity has to offer would become inexorably linked with the greatest blessing the earth has to give.

Years ago, I wrote a poem relating one Easter experience. It was something I had wanted to write about and finally found the vehicle to present it when I began writing about a snow day. As we are emerging from a cold winter, looking ahead to Easter, may the memories expressed here color your expectation as you wait. 

Southern Snowfall

                       

It was one of those rare days

When all the conditions were right

And a bright soft snow fell

All day long.

Everything was covered in beauty.

Unneeded activity came to a halt.

No hurry.

A wonderful quiet in the city.

All is well.

It will last a day (two at the most)

Then there will be mud and slush

And life as usual.

One Easter at midnight mass

I suddenly saw that everyone was aglow.

A subtle light from within

Revealed wonder in every person,

Joy in every action.

Everything was covered in beauty

And I was completely connected

(Not the usual outsider).

No doubt that all shall be well.

Life returned to normal after a day (two at the most)

Except I carried with me the realization

That what was seen only for an instant

Is always true,

Even while life goes on as usual.
                                   
                                                                  ~ CK

_______________________
Pictured: 
Top: Illustration of Ēostre by Jacques Reich, originally with the caption "Eástre."

From  Myths of the Norsemen by H.A. Guerber (1909)

Public Domain 

Courtesy of Wikimedia Commons

Bottom: People hold candles during an Easter vigil mass in the Cathedral in Vilnius, Lithuania
Image found at Word of Technology

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A Song to Mithrandir in the Healing Lands of Lothlórien

J.R.R.Tolkien

Music and mythology are two of the strongest forces in the human experience, and today's blog post has both of these elements - especially if you are a fan of J.R.R. Tolkien's The Lord of the Rings.

Myth can give us a powerful connection to our humanity and the story of life to which we all belong. Joseph Campbell was a wonderful communicator of the meaning of myth in such books as The Hero with a Thousand Faces, Myths to Live By, and of course his famous interviews by Bill Moyers in that widely viewed PBS series, The Power of Myth. Campbell was so well-versed in myths from all sectors of humanity that he could easily and eloquently convey the meaning and wonder of those tales from the soul of humanity.

J.R.R. Tolkien was another one who dedicated much of his career as a scholar to the study of ancient myths, especially the old Norse mythology and other myths of Northern Europe.  Tolkien was professor of English Language and Literature at Oxford University. He was also quite skilled in linguistics. His expertise was in Old English and Middle English, and he was a rigorous scholar. Tolkien saw no reason to offer modern English literature in university course work because anyone can read modern literature on their own (modern English literature included Geoffrey Chaucer and everything since). He apparently found his native English myths lacking compared to those of Nordic realms. He was able to draw from his knowledge of myth when he created his tale of Middle Earth told in The Lord of the Rings trilogy. Indeed, his tale of Hobbits, rings of power, and mortal combat between good and evil has captured the imaginations of many, first in the popularity of his books, then in cinematic presentations of the story, most notably in Peter Jackson's movie trilogy of The Lord of the Rings (2001-2003).

Odin, the Wanderer (1886)
 by Georg von Rosen 
Photo from Wikimedia Commons

Prior to Jackson's popular cinematic production, there was a 1978 movie version of the Tolkien classic directed by Ralph Bakshi. That initial movie version only covered the first half of the story and used a combination of animation and live action. For me, one of the best scenes in that 1978 film was the one in the Elven realm of Lothlórien. The scene took place after Gandalf had fallen while attempting to hold back the Balrog to protect the others within the Fellowship of the Ring. The company of travelers find rest and healing  in the elven land and were given gifts from Lady Galadriel. During that scene in Lothlórien, a song was sung by the elves in remembrance of Gandalf, known to the elves as Mithrandir. After seeing the movie in the theater, I bought the soundtrack album solely because I had to have the song, "Mithrandir." the music was lovely and enchanting, the words conveying some of that beauty and power of myth:

                            Mithrandir though you're hidden

                            We're still guided by your light

                            You're walking beside us

                            A friend in the night

Thanks to You Tube I can share that delight from Bakshi's film. The lyrics are by Mark Fleischer and the music by Leonard Rosenmen.

Mithrandir
by Mark Fleischer

Let the night never cease to call you
Let the day nevermore be the same
Though you've gone where we cannot find you
In each heart you have set your name

Mithrandir far you wander
And long may your name be sung
Through kingdoms of starlight
And realms of the sun
Mithrandir though you're hidden
We're still guided by your light
You're walking beside us
A friend in the night

We were lost when the dark descended
And the light gathered into a storm
You appeared like a sunlit morning
At the winds of a world at war

Mithrandir far you wander
And long may your name be sung
Through kingdoms of starlight
And realms of the sun
Mithrandir though you're hidden
We're still guided by your light
You're walking beside us
A friend in the night

Mithrandir rising through the shadow
Like a star shining deep in its home
You will dwell in our hearts forever
Nevermore will we stand alone



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Sailing the Wine Dark Sea

Trekkers

While Captain James T. Kirk

Explored the far reaches of space,

Promoting the best of secular humanism

Or rescuing extraterrestrial civilizations

Or saving life on earth

Or flirting with every shapely humanoid,

His wife, Penelope, waited at home

Weaving the shroud by day

Only to unravel it each night,

Waiting in sorrowful hope.

Or was that someone else’s wife?

No, she was also Captain Kirk’s wife.

And she belongs to you and me

Just as much as to Odysseus.

The Enterprise traverses

A velvet black cosmos

That reflects our own wine-dark sea within.

It is in that inner domain that we encounter

One-eyed ogres

And reptilian warriors.

We learn that the eye is not always trustworthy,

And we see how human wit

Can unravel any Empire’s fearful grip.

It is there that we find the earthly beauty

Of a high school sweetheart,

And can see the bleached bones

Of those who followed

The tantalizing songs

Of another realm.

Look as far back into myth as you can,

Gaze as far ahead in imagination as you dare.

There is a corresponding depth within.

Every day

Is a day spent

Somewhere between sailing the oceans of mythical grandeur

And weaving our mortal garment at home.

                                                                           Charles Kinnaird

A Poetic Sense of Life

“Whoever does not receive the kingdom of God like a child shall not enter it.” Luke 18:17 (RSV)


Mircea Eliade wrote many books about mythology. He made it quite clear that ancient people were not simple-minded. They were every bit as sophisticated in their thinking as we modern people are. The difference is that their mode of thinking was mythopoeic – mythopoetic, if you will – while our modern mindset is scientific and analytical. Reading Mircea Eliade convinced me that myth is not falsehood. Myth is truth, spoken from a poetic mind set.

Another author I would recommend is Robert Coles who wrote a book called The Spirituality of Children. He showed us that children have a much greater grasp of the truths of life than we adults often give them credit for. I think that children have that poetic sense that our ancient ancestors had and that all of us once had before it was socialized out of us.

When my daughter, Elaine, was six years old, I overheard a remarkable conversation between her and her playmate. They were involved in an art project painting rocks at our dining/arts-and-crafts table. Elaine (while painting a rock) said, "There's the right color! I knew God would show me."

Her friend said, "God is in my heart."

Elaine replied, "There's Mother God and Father God. Mother God is the Earth and Father God is up there watching over us." She made a big sweep of her arm as she said this. "Father God can't watch everyone at the same time, but Mother God can."

Her friend responded, "There's two – there’s God and Jesus."

To which my daughter replied, "Well, I know Mother God very well – I'm like her."

Her friend, not exactly following Elaine's statement said, "I like her to."

"Do you sway with the grass?" Elaine asked her. "Mother God sways with the grass," swaying her arms and her body back and forth as she spoke.

At six years of age, my daughter had a remarkable gift. She had latched onto a feminine identification with the divine. "I know Mother God very well – I'm like her... Mother God sways with the grass."

Elaine had talked to me before about her ideas. I once told a theologian friend of mine about a conversation I had with her about Mother God and Father God when she was four years old. She said, "It's hard for me to say something about Father God, but it's easier to talk about Mother God." I asked her why that was. She said, "Well, Father God – I don't really know him, but I know Mother God. I was in Mother God's belly before it was time to be in my mother's belly to be born. You see, I have two mothers: Mommy and Mother God."

I had marveled at her honesty and insight. My thought was that she captured the notion of the imminence of God vs. the transcendence of God. My theologian friend's comment was that Elaine's idea was "classic Meister Ekhart." Not bad company for a young observer of life. My daughter is a sophomore in college now. My hope for her is that she will always remember the God who is like her, and that she never forgets how to sway with the grass.



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