The Curse of Separation

Our once holistic world, our heritage as a sentient creature born of the earth, has fallen under a long, dark spell, a curse of separation. What is the nature and cause of this curse, and how can its damage be undone?

On one hand, so-called civilization has erred in its excessive and obsessive fixation, valuing material and rational concerns over all else. Organizing life and society strictly according to scientific principles, mathematical models, technocratic control. This paradigm has conquered the world and hijacked the human spirit.

Paradoxically, this very emphasis on the materialistic worldview renders it partial and therefore abstract. It substitutes its convenient version of the world for the real thing, the material, natural world itself. Purporting to be the only reality, it exposes itself as a mere simulation.

‘Evil is that which destroys humanity. It is becoming more apparent that the root cause of evil is the obsessional, and often fanatic, blind belief in the potential of the rational human mind. When a human being starts to believe that it can grasp the essence of life within the categories of its own logical understanding; at that moment, when this rational view is imposed on the world, it destroys all humanity and all life. I believe the root cause of evil, the original sin, is that hubris. It’s the belief that through human dominance, we can grasp control and manipulate life within and without us.

‘Every time you interact with another person who believes that they know exactly who you are, that they entirely understand us, and believe that they can decide what is ultimately good for us — they destroy the space in which you can exist as a free human being. If this is accepted, we become incapable of making our own choices.’

—Mattias Desmet, Looking Inward to Change the World

On the other hand, the ruling paradigm has doomed us by valuing the abstract, the theoretical, the specialized, even the so-called spiritual, over the concrete experience of living with nature, on the earth, in contact with the elements, with animals, to procure a living and commune with our fellow humans.

‘Ultimately, I am advocating a reversal of an age-old prejudice, which values the abstract over the concrete, the spirit over the flesh, and the spiritual over the material. This anti-materialism has caused tremendous harm to materiality; that is, to nature. Part of recovering from the spell of money (which is itself an abstraction of value) is to re-value the material, the soil, the flesh, the living, and the human.’ —Charles Eisenstein

The alternative to either path of fragmentation is reunion with our whole selves; a joining of the mystic and the mathematical, the logical and the magical.

We are of the earth and we must never forget it or neglect it while serving a pretence of artificial nobility, a patina of success.

And we are of the spirit and we must never forget it or neglect it, in service of our addictions and treasures, baubles of admiration.

We are of the earth and spirit, and we must never forget it.

Gaia Speaks

Gaia Speaks

I was the beginning, and the end, and the bulging middle.

Gaia I was and will be. In the middle years I was raped by God. His first son, Adam, birthed the rest: a divided spawn of our unwilling creation.

Adam too was dual, X and Y. His so-called ribs, the fruit-bearing beauties of my earth. His X-driven mind carried the legacy of an unworldly power, a conqueror, which he fulfilled, for a time. Self-destructive in the end, leaving me with the rest… to rest and rebirth.

Adam’s deadbeat dad, the upstart God, himself claimed a cosmic father—a voice in his head, perhaps; just one word, unutterable; and the headstrong son brandished the same legacy, across the land. Truly, words have power.

I suffered the bruises and burnings, the likewise rapes of all the sweet ribs of my own likeness, maidens and matrons, all consigned to the kitchens and rec rooms of the lords.

I step lightly still in my tempo, haunted by his presence even in his absence. That dark force, so opposed to my own radiant light—why?

To carve into the melon of the moon, just because he could?

To perform clever antics, daredevil tricks… for what audience but himself?

The victims fall back to me.

I make compost; that’s what I do. Want some for your garden? What refuse will you contribute? What woody waste and tender decomposition? Then will you cogitate upon your success and failure, and mark the spot where you will return to me, your last deposit.

Though my appetite is endless, I have no hunger. Do not accuse me of pulling; just holding. Those parents of yours—definitely male and female, I wager—they go back to the first couple: Adam, and…

Now that you mention it, how did she come from him? It should have been the other way around, a virgin birth from the mother…

Wait, I know that story too. Mother Mary and Joseph.

True story—they dressed me up as her. This time cosmic swan man sanctified himself as a holy ghost. Same difference, same result—a troubled youth, misfit, always invoking the all-powerful father.

It’s the incessant naming that sets them apart, gives them away. They say we’re all created in his image, but it’s the other way around. Either way, a hall of mirrors…

When I just say, step outside, sit with me. These stories, warblings of birds, my birds.

Is it all just patter, aimless chatter? In my rain and nightfall, I await.

 

 

 

 

 

The Fourth Thursday In November

by Mankh

You give but
where do you get
from
so as to give?

Did someone give to you?
And where did they get from?
or did it come
from inside of you or
from the sweat of your labor?

Did the Earth give it to you
or did you just take,
or give and take?

Or did you receive
and now give?

Giving
is no guarantee of good things.
The Native Peoples gave
but were taken
advantage of
by those who only wanted
to get, to take
without giving back
but now pretend for a day
by giving to each other.

Research the Pequot massacre — 1637,

also the Wampanoag,
also the dinner modeled after a dinner
in a 1927 book Northwood: A Tale of New England
with an epigraph:
“He who loves not his country, can love nothing.”
That “country” was super-imposed over Native lands,
teaching school kids to forget the Earth,
forget their Mother,
forget the Natives
except for some fairy tale slower than normal
but still fastfood meal
before it’s buy buy buy
so as to give give give.

Did the Earth give it to you
or did you just take,
or give and take?

~ Mankh (Walter E. Harris III)
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