Harmony from the Cacophony

 

Blame it on the printing press.

When the ideas, beliefs, and stories of our major religions were first written down, they lost a certain flexibility.  But with the advent of the printing press, I believe these texts became even less adaptive.  Though changes–-often significant changes–-could be made in the texts, though the texts could still evolve, they evolved more slowly.  Thus, the religions guided by these texts have had difficulty in responding to the needs of our modern times.

Even if you disagree with this notion, I think you would still have to admit that our religious texts have trouble competing with other sources of information now available to us…

…have trouble competing with movies, with television, with novels, with the print journalism of books, magazines, and newspapers, with recorded music and concerts, with the many varieties of visual art, as well as with the multitudinous offerings of the internet.

Those sources provide us with stories, with ideas and artistic expressions, that to one degree or another, we find meaningful.  Though most households in America probably have a Bible on the shelf, that Bible usually stays on the shelf.

That’s not to say that what flows from these other sources has replaced the Bible—or any other religious text.  On the other hand…

…whether they consciously intend to or not, these media messengers try to interpret the world for us, try to direct our attention to what they believe is most important, try to tell us what our individual and collective aspirations should be, try to provide us with guidance.

There is much dross in this activity, but also many diamonds.  A messenger can open us to the wonder of the Universe.  A messenger may prompt us to listen to our depths.  Even the most dubious of our messengers may echo a refrain found in all major religions.

On the other hand…

…a billion instruments, playing all at once, don’t constitute a symphony.  A symphony consists of many instruments playing different parts, yet joining together to create a unified work.

A new mythology would be a means of listening to all the instruments and finding the symphony in what sounds like a cacophony.  A new mythology would be a tool that anyone could use to find unity in what seems disparate.

A new mythology would also help us hear can not be heard.  The conductor does not play an instrument, but is heard—is known—through the instruments that produce the symphony.  Our new mythology, in helping us to hear the harmony coming from all the instruments, would allow us to know the silent conductor.

Something within my being prefers harmony over disharmony.  Something within my being struggles toward harmony–-though I often seem to produce its opposite.

I believe our new mythology will be a natural occurrence–-the result of our efforts, our desire, to create harmony.  In striving to create harmony, we will discover the harmony that already exists.

© 2010, Michael R. Patton

 

Shadow Boxing

“The only boy who could ever teach me
 Was the son of a preacher man.
 Yes he was, yes he was,
 Ooh, yes he was.”

      — from Son of a Preacher Man, by Hurley/Wilkins

In my Baptist youth, we knew the truth to that song sung by Dusty Springfield.  The preacher’s son could be a devil.  Oh yes, the wildest kid, the orneriest kid, was often the son of the preacher man.

But why so?  I believe Carl Jung would say that the son is carrying the father’s shadow.  He’s enacting all those qualities suppressed in the father.

The son may be a torment to the father.  But considered another way, the father unknowingly torments the son by burdening him with that shadow.

But the preacher and the son are not the only ones who struggle with this problem.  We humans disown so many qualities of self—our worst, but also, our best.  But these qualities refuse to go away.  If we don’t enact them, someone near us may enact them for us.  If such a person does not already exist, we may attract a someone with these qualities into our lives.

We may also project these disowned aspects onto someone who does not actually display them.  We may project this shadow onto the person right next to our elbow.  Or someone on the other side of the world.  We may project these qualities onto an entire nation or group

And so, in this way, we remain split.

A Christian fundamentalist neighbor once told me he didn’t believe in psychology.  I wanted to tell him that psychology was the study of human behavior, and so, was not in opposition to religion.  You might believe in a particular psychological theory or disbelieve a theory.  But psychology itself was not a matter of belief.

I realized that he meant he did not believe in psychological therapy as a cure for personal problems.  Personal problems—or for that matter, world problems—should be solved through religion, according to him.

I believe that each has its place.  Therapy may help us more in the short term.  But therapy should not be carried on year after year after year.  On the other hand, a religion/mythology is to be practiced over the course of a lifetime.

The insights gained in the therapy can help heal the split.  The insights provided, continually, by the religion/mythology, can help keep us together.

In the case of the preacher’s son, the father’s religion did not create this split.  Religions don’t create such splits; human beings create such splits—the human ego is the culprit.

For myself, I can say that I feel better and better as I reclaim those shadows—even the ugly ones, and there are plenty of those.  I feel better being more of myself, rather than in trying to be less.

The preacher may see the wild son as his nemesis.  The son may see the upright, uptight father as his nemesis.  But they’re both wrong.  Neither is the enemy.  As Walt Kelly once said in his comic strip Pogo: “We have met the enemy and he is us.”

I’ve seen that quote many times in many different places.  But the problem is, we have not met the enemy—we do not yet know he is us.  Our new mythology must show us, not only who the real enemy is, but that the enemy is really no enemy at all.

The ugliest shadow imaginable has its positive expression.  The preacher son, though he may act mean, did move that girl.  Perhaps the preacher, in his sermon, moved her as well.  The son may carry the shadow of the father, but that shadow has its positive expression.  Likewise, the father may be carrying the shadow of the son, but that shadow also has its positive expression.  Neither can become satisfactorily whole until he reclaims that shadow, reclaims its positive expression.

I believe this problem is as serious as any we face.  When our inner conflicts are projected outwards, our inner wars become outer wars.

In the interest of full disclosure, I’m still in the process of reclaiming my shadows—and will be until the day I die.  But though the process is never complete, if I achieve enough gains, I believe I can feel satisfactorily whole.

© 2010, Michael R. Patton

 

Instrument of Change

Recently, I pondered a dilemma…

…a dilemma that only grew more complex as I pondered.

Joseph Campbell seeded my thought, years ago, when told Bill Moyers in The Power of Myth:

“We are in childhood in a condition of dependency under someone’s protection and supervision for some fourteen to twenty-one years—and if you’re going on for your Ph.D., this may continue to perhaps thirty-five.  You are in no way a self-responsible, free agent, but an obedient dependent, expecting and receiving punishments and rewards.

“To evolve out of this position of psychological immaturity to the courage of self-responsibility and assurance requires a death and resurrection.  That’s the basic motif of the universal hero’s journey—leaving one condition and finding the source of life to bring you forth into a richer or mature condition.”

Campbell offers a solution to a problem we all face.  But how do we enact this solution?  How do we create a death and resurrection that will free us from this psychological state of dependency?

An initiation rite is designed to break the individual out of childhood and propel him into adulthood.  During the initiation rite, the participant experiences the hero’s journey; he experiences a death and resurrection.

Though we can’t expect to duplicate earlier rituals, I’ve wondered if we could create a similar instrument for these times, an instrument that would produce a similar transformation.

However, the purpose of the initiation was not simply to project one into adulthood, but to create a functioning member of the community.

But what if our community is governed, to a greater or lesser degree, in an authoritarian manner?  What if the instrument of initiation becomes a machination for perpetuating the status quo of an authoritarian state?

Whatever the nature of our community, in becoming a member of that community, we may identify too strongly with our group.  When that happens, other groups become “the other”, become alien, and potentially, the enemy.

So our “instrument of initiation” must make us sensitive both to the needs of our community, and to the needs of all communities.  Our instrument of initiation must also be an “instrument of individuation”—must give one the security to stand alone, to stand in defiance of the community, if need be.

Obviously, our instrument of initiation—our instrument of individuation, our instrument of community—must enable one to acknowledge, accept, embrace contradiction.

As to what form this instrument might possibly take…

…I haven’t the slightest notion.  However…

…I believe that, over time, we will respond to this dilemma—we will create some means to deal with this problem.  Such solutions don’t come to us instantaneously.  It will be a tedious, step by step process.  But we will deal with this dilemma, with this crisis.  Because, obviously, the human race needs to grow up, needs to take a step up.  If we don’t…

…we’ll pay an even greater cost for reminding the same.

© 2010, Michael R. Patton

 

Life After Death

Life After People, a History Channel program, shows us that this planet can do very well without humankind.

Freud might say that such a program demonstrates our death wish.  I don’t believe we have a death wish—I think we have a “transformation wish”.  Life After People, and other doomsday entertainment, may represent that wish—such programs could be a collective dream.

But if so, is this dream so new?  “End of time” warnings have sounded throughout our history.  In the Sunday School classes of my Baptist youth, we relished hearing about the horrors of the Apocalypse.

But though prophecies of doom have long sparked something within the human psyche..

…I’ve noticed a difference of late…

Not only do these stories appear to be more numerous, more popular, but we seem to be more accepting of this potential disaster.  We can watch Life After People and calmly, thoughtfully consider what will happen to all our creations if we vanish from this Earth.

If we seem relaxed, perhaps that’s because we feel powerless to change the situation.  No matter how many cans we recycle, no matter how many peace marches we stage, no matter how many letters we write to our Congressmen and women, the situation continues to deteriorate.

The question of the end is no longer strictly a religious question.  We realize that we have the means, and perhaps the madness, to completely wipe out human life.  Our fate is in our own hands.  Yet we don’t seem to have the will to make the changes we need to make in order to ensure our survival.

Maybe we do have a death wish.  And Life After People is our death wish dream.

On the other hand…

…I know that when I encounter death in a dream, what I am actually witnessing is either death to an aspect of self—an aspect no longer needed—or the demise of an aspect that needs to be resurrected.

So perhaps Life After People–and all those other entertainments that foresee a doomsday scenario—belong to our collective dream of transformation.  We are dreaming of the end of one way of life—not a physical end, but the end to a way of being.  A necessary end.  A death that must happen if we are to resurrect ourselves.

If the collective dream of Life After People seems to lack a resurrection…

…consider the proliferation of fauna and flora that will not only survive our demise, but thrive.

Perhaps these fauna and flora represent our resurrection, represent the resurrection of a more natural way of life, a way of life more in harmony with the environment.  A resurrection of our feeling sense, dulled nearly to extinction by our reliance on technology.

Viewed in this way, we can actually find hope in doomsday entertainment.  However…

…my dreams have also told me that I must work to create such a transformation, such a rebirth.

But if Life After People is indeed our collective dream of transformation, then I believe we are guiding ourselves, and actually do have the will to save our life on this planet—despite appearances to the contrary.

© 2010, Michael R. Patton
sky rope (subterranean rappel)
dream steps