Friday, April 9, 2021

Baudelaire, Bicentennial

 The sheer luminous gown

                           The fountain wears

             Where Phoebe’s very own

                           Color appears

             Falls like a summer rain

                           Or shawl of tears.


—Charles Baudelaire, from ‘The Fountain’ (1857), tr. by Anthony Hecht and pub. in Poetry magazine Sept. 2011. (Orig. pub. in Baudelaire’s ‘Les Fleurs du Mal’,’ as ‘Le Jet d’eau’).


Charles Baudelaire was born on this day, 200 years ago, in 1821 (d. 1867). Baudelaire was a significant poet and precursor to the Symbolist movement in French poetry, influencing Rimbaud, Verlaine, Mallarmé, among others.


Baudelaire is known for his startling lyricism and coining of the term “modernity” (modernité), in the sense of “modern art,” the tone and form of which find expression in his prose poems, which have been influential ever since the mid-19th century. Baudelaire, for whom the poet “is a kinsman in the clouds,” better adapted to the sky than the ground. Baudelaire also was among the first translators of the works of Edgar Allan Poe, itself a measurably modern move.



Image: Danaida fountain of Peterhof, photo by Yair Haklai (2008) and posted at Wikimedia Commons.


Sunday, February 28, 2021

Kalevala Day

Being a man of a certain bardic persuasion, I should mention that February 28th is celebrated in Finland as “Kalevala Day,” in honor of the great Finnish national epic poem, compiled by Elias Lönnrot from Finnish and Karelian oral folklore and mythology, and first published in 1835. J.R.R. Tolkien, among others, drew deep from the wells of the Kalevala and other Finnish lore. A small gesture of my own appreciation for all things folk and Finnish, I include here a short musical piece, titled “Kalevala Sävelmä,” an ancient Finnish rune melody. The accompanying image is taken from a portrait of Ilmatar, the Finnish creation goddess and mother of Väinämöinen, the central figure and “eternal bard” of the Kalevala. The portrait was painted between 1913 and 1916 by Finnish painter Joseph Alanen (1885-1920). The instrument played is the kantele, a traditional Finnish and Karelian plucked stringed instrument of the Baltic zither family.



Tuesday, January 19, 2021

The Writer’s Craft

Writing is, above all, a craft.








Photos of a silver casket with various writing utensils made by the 16th c. Northern Mannerist goldsmith Wenzel Jamnitzer (Wenzel Gemniczer). Photo credit: James Steakley at Wikimedia Commons. Displayed at the Kunsthistorisches Museum (Museum of Art History) in Vienna, Austria. Via Wikipedia.


Monday, January 11, 2021

Some Thoughts on the Nature of Shamanism as a Performance Art

The most basic, and vital, thing to understand about shamanism is that it is a performance art. What is performed? Integrative Magic. For the shaman is an artist and a healer. The shaman is a medium (in the best sense of the word), a conduit and channel for the alchemical harmonization of symbolic, ecological, and cosmic energies. Elected by the spirits, supernatural beings that participate in but are not of or bound to this earthly realm, the shaman is an individual psychically sensitive and attuned to the symbolic economy that infuses and integrates the fabric of the culture, ecology, and cosmos in which the shaman is situated. Through the artful employment of certain “techniques of ecstasy” (Eliade), such as trance (achieved through various performative means), the shaman is able to engage in a kind of “soul flight” to reach knowledge, information, and wisdom otherwise inaccessible to ordinary people. And the shaman uses this insight for healing purposes—to diagnose and treat particularly ailments of the spirit and psyche—whether those ailments pertain to an individual or an entire culture. For, again, at the center of the shaman’s art is the holistic integration of the fragmented and diseased elements (symbolic, social, psychological) that, more properly fused and balanced, constitute health and harmony.

Shamanism is an ancient healing, performative, and “magico-religious” practice of Palaeolithic origin (ca. 40,000 years old or older). It has survived thousands, indeed tens of thousands, of years of cultural transformation, persecution, scientific skepticism, and modern and postmodern charlatanism of many kinds (including the sort cited only a few days ago in the case of the ridiculous, yet clearly dangerous, ‘QAnon Shaman’). Because it is also a pre-literate and performative-based tradition, shamanism has also endured despite distortions and damages wrought by the book-based, monotheistic religious structures that gained dominance and have effectively defined the parameters of accepted religious and spiritual practice for the past 2,000+ years on this planet. And yet, through the tundras and the tropics, across the Great Plains and Grand Canyons, shamanism, magic, survives. 


What role will shamanism play in the 21st century, and beyond? Provided good sense and respect for the sacred in the great and diverse cultural traditions of the world prevail—and especially in the men and women elected to protect and preserve these ancient mysteries—I have some optimism, and faith, that the shamanic spirit will yet prove a great asset to cultural healing, ecological restoration, and integrative restructuring of the fragmented psyche that has lately so sadly come to define so much of the daily experience of most humans on this Earth.


The shamanic spirit, or ethos, incidentally, need not be thought as limited to Altai mountain wizards or Amazonian medicine men (however anthropologically defined), or powwow priests of any indigenous persuasion. The Catholic priest can be, and has been, a shaman; so too can the Hindu sage or yogi, the Baptist minister, the Neopagan Druid, the academic philosopher, the humble Facebook poet. The point is to keep the practice sacred, to remember—and embody—those sacred teachings and rituals, the myths and magic and stories—in short, the symbolic economies—that have guided and structured and given meaning to the shared human experience since the dawn of time. 


Shamanism is not a game; it is not a parlor trick or circus sideshow or a face to paint on for Halloween (or storming the U.S. Capitol, as the case might be). And certainly it is not a guise or gimmick to mobilize for the purposes of riot or insurrection or the desecration of democracy, in America or anywhere. Shamanism is, indeed, a religion. It is by any reasonable account the world’s oldest spiritual practice, and the bedrock and genesis for all religion, pagan or Christian or otherwise, if by “religion” we mean a culturally organized and symbolically centered celebration of the sacred. It is to be taken seriously and accorded the respect and care that the sacred deserves. If, as the Hebrew proverb has it, “death and life are in the power of the tongue,” all the more so is the potential for harm or healing in the hands of the shaman—a figure, moreover, who is always sanctioned by his or her society and never “self-proclaimed.” An egotistic shaman is a man on his way out—always—whatever power, or presumed power, he or she may be thought to hold. The shaman is an individual, but like all individuals a profoundly socially dependent creature. May any shaman, therefore, be wise and humble enough to use the gift and power wisely, and for the betterment of the human condition, and the environment that sustains and ultimately makes that condition possible.


So many people are hurting, so many divisions and points of discord exist, so many fractures and wounds in need of reconciliation. Shamanism holds great power to effect the kinds of cures needed to restore a proper balance. For this is what true medicine, and magic, does and always has done.


The shaman, in short, is a healer, but he or she is also an artist, a poet, a musician of the soul and a tuner of out of tune instruments, which all humans are in one respect or another. There is hardly a calling higher or more sacred or more vitally needed than that of the shaman. All illness, Novalis said, is a musical illness in need of a musical solution. May the shaman minister first and last and always to that most intimate and vital place where we find, and live, our deepest humanity: I mean to say, in Art.



Shaman holding a séance by fire. Settlement Kyzyl region Tuva, Russia. (Photo: Wikipedia.)


Sunday, January 3, 2021

Tolkien’s Day

Today, turns out, is the birthday of J.R.R. Tolkien (1892-1973), humble Hobbit, gentle wizard, eminent bard. Rightly loved by so many for the very best of reasons, I find myself most instructed by his example of a scholar who found his way to writing, who found sense in the path of the poet’s purpose. A distinguished Anglo-Saxonist and master of languages, Tolkien realized (precisely when, it doesn’t matter) that the real point of studying myths and languages is to bring those myths to life in a creative and meaningful way, for the present, for the people living and reading now. Academic work is valuable, even underrated and unappreciated by many, to be sure. But when the Muse awakens the mind to the true power of story and myth, when the man of, say, letters and learning understands that his calling is higher than learnèd credits and professorial accolades and distinguished chairs (as Tolkien had and every stitch of it earned), that story is at heart a shared and living human experience, then what else could Tolkien say, sitting at his desk, grading papers, than, “In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit”? A writer today is well to be inspired by Tolkien, but I find it better to be instructed, in the truest sense of the word. 




So, superlative thanks and many happy returns to the man who found truth in myth (not Allegory!) and value in conveying that truth, through story, to the world. The world, and writers especially, owe Tolkien a debt of gratitude that can never be repaid. I suspect, however, that his work was a labor of love. And it was, undoubtedly, a tremendous undertaking to create the worlds and languages and characters that he did, however much he drew on a rich stock of story and myth from the Norse and the Celts and others. The point is, he made the myths his own, transmuted the spirit for present times, reminded his readers of the sacredness of the past, and left a legacy that is truly worthy of the word. No writer, surely, will ever match his compass, though we all can strive to follow in his footsteps; and though Faerie can indeed be a perilous place, as the great Master said, not all who wander are lost. Happiest of name-days, then, to John Ronald Reuel Tolkien. May we all be so blessed to be enchanted by the truth that is myth, the fine wine that is a good story, the understanding that is the right path.







Monday, December 21, 2020

Poem in EHS: Winter Solstice 2020

Very happy to see my poem “Druidess of Danu” included among so many other crafty talents in the Winter Solstice issue of Eternal Haunted Summer ~ pagan songs & tales.

Many thanks to the editor, Rebecca, for a cracking good Yule. 🎨 🌙


Baudelaire, Bicentennial

  The sheer luminous gown                            The fountain wears              Where Phoebe’s very own                            C...