Pantheacon (18) – Bringing Myth Alive

My final participation for 2013 Pantheacon was a workshop on Bringing Myth Alive (Techniques to Engage Myth).  I was looking forward to this.  My approach to ritual tends to be psychological, mythic; and I have some attachment to the work of Carl Jung.

 

I was not disappointed.  Jeffrey Albaugh spoke from his background in “depth psychology,” structuring this workshop around storytelling and dreams—specifically the image of the selkie-woman.  He referenced both Jung and James Hillman.

Dreams speak in images, call up personal associations, and then can provoke archetypal amplification.  Reverie allows characters to come forward and speak to you.  I am naturally attracted to this state of mind.

Archetypes are universal, ultimately unknowable patterns.  Paradoxically, all we can know is the archetypal.

In this workshop, we re-imagined the selkie story from alternate viewpoints.  Suppose the man in the story didn’t steal the selkie’s skin; suppose he asks her to stay.  

We discussed archetypes, polarities, and mythic landscapes.  The landscape of a story is usually very important.

I left with a heightened sensitivity to the interactions between autonomous creatures, to the importance of encouraging free choices.

Leaving the workshop, wandering the halls of the hotel, I encountered several people I knew, one of whom I hadn’t seen for years.  I met a woman I knew who read my palms—bringing us immediately closer.  I thought of another woman I’d known online, wondering whether she was somehow a selkie.

And leaving Pantheacon 2013, my head swam with Wagnerian images:  Kings, Wizards, Knights, Flower Maidens, Swans—Lance, Grail, Forbidden Questions.  Tannhauser.  Dreams.

I had a year now to absorb this all, waiting for Pantheacon 2014.

Pantheacon (17) – White Girl Shamanism

I concluded Pantheacon 2013 with a pair of excellent workshop.  The first was titled “White Girl Shamanism.”  It addressed cultural issues around the study of shamanism.

 

Is this a good way to phrase this?  The point is that a lot of people who did not grow up in native/indigenous cultures have become interested in what they call shamanism—which we understand as originating in native/indigenous cultures.  This raises issues of “cultural appropriation” and “spiritual tourism.”

Looking back at this, I have to ask what we mean by “indigenous.”  I’m not an anthropologist.  I’m guessing we mean a group that has never left its place of origin.  Less precisely, perhaps, it would be a group that has no memory or record of ever having lived anywhere else.  The Australian Aborigines may have come to Australia from somewhere else—but they have no collective memory of that.

If shamanism is something indigenous, tribal—can I ever put myself into that mindset?  Unlikely.  I personally have traveled all over the planet.  My earliest memories are of Pennsylvania, which I hardly know.  I can’t imagine growing up in the same place as my ancestors of centuries ago.  I can’t even imagine what it is like to still be living in the same place I grew up!

On the other hand, if shamanism finds a basis in universal experience, why shouldn’t I call myself a shaman?  If I go into trance and encounter Intermediaries—Power Animals, Totems; if these trance experiences enable me to bring back wisdom with which to serve my community—is it wrong to follow these practices?

I left this workshop musing over what has been one of my own studies; I guess I’d have to call it “Wagnerian Shamanism.”  Perhaps I’ll do a workshop one day—though I feel this is my own solitary path.  As I mused I thought again of Burroughs' dictum:  “Mind your own business.”  I wondered how to respect boundaries and fears, how to know when to reach out and when to hold back, how to know when to keep silent.  Finally I bent myself again towards my Writer’s Way

Pantheacon (8) -- “But...Who Is This Grail?”

Just a few words for people who read the post about the Chalice/Grail, and have no idea what it was about.

 

Many stories were told, back in the 1100s-1300s, about the search for an object called The Grail.  Since the 1800s, many of these stories have been retold.

In Richard Wagner’s stage work Parsifal, at the first mention of the Grail, Parsifal asks, “Who is the Grail?”  The reply is, “That can’t be told.”  Not because it’s forbidden, but because it is a mystery impossible to express in words.  Perhaps this isn’t just a story, perhaps it’s actually true.  Let me tell you the story as I understand it…

A “grail” is a something like a chalice or shallow bowl.  “The Grail” is supposedly the cup that Jesus drank from at his Last Supper.  After he was executed the following day, a Roman soldier, Longinus, stabbed him with his spear to confirm he was dead; and water and blood flowed from the wound.  For unexplained reasons, the cup from the supper was there and caught the blood.  Later, the cup was taken to England (a rather Anglo-centric idea!).

But in other versions of the story, the Grail is something else:  Part of a meteor fallen from the skies?  The Philosophers’ Stone?  A jewel from the crown of Satan, that dislodged as Satan was thrown into Hell?

In John Boorman’s 1981 film Excalibur, shortly after King Arthur realizes that his wife Guenevere is involved with his best knight Lancelot, Arthur is struck by lightning.  When he regains consciousness, his first words are: “We must find what was lost—the Grail.  Only the Grail can save us.”  Thus far in the film, the Grail has never been mentioned.  Arthur’s knights exchange embarrassed looks, then one of them says, “Um—where do we look for it?”  They don’t have a clue—and neither does Arthur!  He just knows they need to find it.

The Grail exists in another place, a parallel kingdom, a psychic realm.  In that “place,” a wounded king is perpetually ill, perhaps because of some past transgression, possibly sexual; or perhaps because he has failed as leader?  Healing the king, and the kingdom, involves coming (back) into proper relationship with…something:  The Grail?  The land?  Sexuality?

The Grail quest usually takes the seeker out of the Mundane into this Otherworld.  Finding the Grail, psychologically, involves understanding the sickness of the King in this Otherworld, and understanding how to heal him.  Having achieved this in the psychic realm enables the successful Seeker to return to Ordinary Reality and bring the healing with him/her.

In Excalibur, Arthur is reminded of his proper role as king:  “The Land and the King are one.”  As Merlin told him earlier:  “You will be the Land and the Land will be you.  If you thrive the Land will thrive.  If you fail the Land will fail.”  Arthur had forgotten this.  But Perceval, by making the psychic journey into the Otherworld, has recovered this psychic knowledge; the “Grail” that can heal the king and restore balance in the land, changing what was a Wasteland into a new-blooming, renewed, restored kingdom.

For Carl Jung and Joseph Campbell, the Grail Quest represented the quest for the Self—a very important quest indeed:  The attempt to understand ourselves and our proper role in society and the universe.

And you can see how the Grail might be connected with Hermes Trismegistus, associated with the sayings:  "As Above, so Below.  As the Body, so the Soul.  As Without, so Within."

Pantheacon (7) – The Grail

After staying up on Friday night with Pomba Gira, I took my own good time recovering the following morning, and didn’t make it back to the second day of Pantheacon until the early afternoon.  I found a good seat right near the front for a presentation on The Grail and Cauldron.  This was intended to include a visual presentation but, alas, technical difficulties intervened.  However, I liked the presenter and she discussed one of my favorite topics:  The Grail legend.  She dealt mainly with the French versions of this medieval legend and epic, particularly the version by Chretien de Troyes.  I found myself close to tears as she described the life of Perceval, mentioning also the women Blanchefleur and Repanse de Schoye.  She mentioned the question that the seeker must answer to find the Grail:  “Whom does the Grail serve?”  She also dealt with connections between the Grail and Hermes Trismegistus.  This all was very emotional for me, because of my long study of the Grail legend.  I shared this with the presenter later on in the conference.

My own study of the Grail began decades ago with Richard Wagner’s “opera” Parsifal (he himself referred to it as a “Stage-consecrating Festival Play”).  This is a magical work, and during the Chalice workshop it entered my mind that I should present a workshop next year built around the idea of Wagnerian Witchcraft or Wagnerian Magic.

Wagner led me eventually to Joseph Campbell’s four-volume The Masks of God, which includes a ninety-page retelling/analysis of the Parzival poem of Wolfram von Eschenbach, my second personal source of Grail material (though I don’t know it nearly as well as Wagner).

My third source of Grail material is John Boorman’s 1981 film Excalibur, which is allegedly based on Thomas Mallory’s Morte d’Arthur.  I went through a period where I watched this film repeatedly.  I made extensive notes for an essay I never wrote (maybe later?) on why the film was actually about finding authentic masculinity.

Of course, most people nowadays know about the Grail from Monte Python and the Holy Grail.  Well—any great work deserves a great parody.  It keeps the story alive, even if ironically.

For myself, I can say that the Grail legend appeals to me on some deep level.  The fact that people have told different versions just makes the whole story richer.  Something of worth is being sought in a world that seems tainted.  You have to look for it even when you have very little idea of what you are looking for or how to find it.  You have to ask the right questions and answer them.  We need something authentic.

So I was moved into a state of contemplation during Pantheacon.  I looked for my own authenticity, sought to realize and acknowledge my own emotions and grasp the meaning of what moves me.  While envisioning a workshop on Wagnerian Magic, I wondered whether I wasn’t heading, rather, towards a future as The Sacred Curmudgeon.  Maybe it comes with my age.

Or maybe not.  There is a cure or healing for the curmudgeon; and the Grail legend is about the healing of the Waste Land.  For several years now, I’ve entertained the idea that (gasp!) Wagner got the Grail legend wrong.  Campbell himself hints at this.  Wagner’s Parsifal finds the Grail after renouncing sexuality in the form of the woman Kundry.  Campbell prefers Wolfram, where Parzival eventually finds mature adult love and marries.  But I, after my dancing with Pomba Gira—“in service to the Goddess?”—wonder whether perhaps we can revise Wagner’s story so that Parsifal can celebrate sacred sexual love with the goddess Kundry?  That could be the true Grail Incarnation!

Celebrating Wagner: My Annual RingDay Party

As many of you know, I host an annual party on Memorial Day Sunday.

This annual Baldwin Wagner-RingDay Party is now approaching -- this coming Sunday from sunrise till  sunset.

If you haven’t heard about RingDay before, here is a little information.
 
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“What is RingDay?”

A celebration of Richard Wagner’s (German composer, 1813-1883) birthday (May 22).  A celebration of his most massive work, The Ring of the Nibelung.  A chance to see/listen to the entire Ring.  A chance to ignore the entire Ring.  I’ve done this every year since about 1974 (except for 1984).  It has been described in the book All Around the Year—Holidays and Celebrations in American Life, by Jack Santino.


“How Do You Do That?”

At approximately 5:50 a.m. (sunrise?), in my living room, I will turn on a video recording of the first of the four Ring operas.  The entire Ring will then play straight through until whenever we finish.  We’re usually done around 9:30 p.m.


“But I Hate Wagner”

No problem.  You can really only see/hear it in the living room.  If you don’t want to hear it, just wander into the dining room, the computer room, or the patio/backyard.  Socialize and party.


“But Doesn’t Ignoring Wagner Defeat the Purpose?”

Well, yeah—kinda.  But the actual purpose of RingDay isn’t to listen to the Ring <gasp!> I’ve probably heard the entire thing fifty or more times!  The real purpose is to get together with friends—you.
   

“But...  What do you do for fifteen hours?????”

Not too much, in the morning.  Light breakfast (bring yours along).  Mixing up and baking the four “ring” (ie. Bundt) cakes.  The traditional Walkure shower (for me, anyway).  And the rush to prepare the baked cakes with candles.

The lighting of the birthday (ring) cakes with the appropriate number of candles, during the playing of the Magic Fire Music.  Okay—We fake most of the candles now.  This year, we’d theoretically cram 199 onto the cake.  We’ll just stuff on as many as feels safe.  This should all happen around 12:30 or 1 p.m.  We generally then send someone out for lunch subs (or bring your own lunch).  Sometimes, however (when no one is around for the Magic Fire Music), we postpone the candles until the fire scene in the third act of  Siegfried (around 3:30 or 4).

Afternoon?  The traditional Siegfried snooze.  Some people find Siegfried boring(?!).  Some people prefer playing board (bored?) games.  But then, this is when we usually have the children begin the construction of the small cardboard Valhalla for later.

We’ll fire up the barbeque around 5:30 or 6 p.m for the potluck dinner.  By now the children should be well along on Valhalla, and drawing or pasting images into it.

Amazingly, as we approach the final act or two, people actually being filtering into the living room and watching the performance!

Around 9:30, we light the Valhalla sitting on the barbeque grill, watch it burn—and return to the living room to watch Bugs Bunny in “What’s Opera, Doc?” and “The Rabbit of Seville”… and possibly listen to Anna Russell explain the Ring.

By then we’re usually ready for a good night’s sleep!


“So What Do I Need To Do?”

Show up, if this appeals to you (preferably let us know ahead).  Socialize.  Bring food.  Hang out.  That’s about it.  Don’t have to do much else.

The Ride Awaits Us!

I was at a local theater recently, watching an HD documentary about the Metropolitan Opera’s latest production of Wagner’s Ring Cycle.

Surprisingly (for me), one of the Met’s executives talked about how the Met had fallen two decades behind in its staging technology, until they attempted this Ring.  How can that be? I thought.  I remember when the Met moved to Lincoln Center; the technology was state-of-the-art.  But of course that was 1966!

We lose track of time.  I once worked in Youth Programming at a Unitarian summer institute.  I decided I’d dazzle the teenagers with stories of Jack Kerouac and the Beat poets.  But this was 1980.  I was old, so old:  Twenty-nine!  My source-books lay unused in my dorm room; the teenagers had disappeared to who knows where.  They didn’t care about the rebellions of earlier times.  We all lose track.

That film about the Met give me a visceral “punch” in several ways.  First, sheer physical amazement:  Cirque du Soleil-style acrobatic-stand-ins ascending an eighty-degree wall that resembled Yosemite’s Half-Dome, at the end of the first Ring opera; and the soprano Brunnhilde hanging upside down from a similar precipice at the end of the second.

But equally visceral was the mental punch delivered by that executive who declared (I’m paraphrasing) that “art cannot stand still.  It has to change and move forward, always.  If it stops changing, it becomes irrelevant and dies.”

It’s good to remember that.  And I ask myself, not without misgivings:  Will you climb on the Bus of the Future?  Will you buy into the Age of Change? 

It’s always hard to break with our habits.  But the ride awaits us—the journey into the Future.  Come aboard and let’s embark!