On The Road: Prelude to the Film

Well, the day is finally coming -- The film of On The Road is arriving in Palo Alto on Friday.

By now, I've resigned myself to the fact that the whole thing has been botched. In two days, I'll be able to talk about it (well, if I can stand to).

That's something. So far, I've spent most of a year wondering why it was being released the way it was: At Cannes, then everywhere else but the U.S. Then in LA, with what seemed like a startling lack of publicity. And now, three months later, it arrives in the Bay Area at four (count them!) theaters: One in San Francisco, one in San Rafael, one in Berkeley, and one in Palo Alto -- the publicity consisting (as far as I know) of one short interview in the San Francisco Chronicle.

But I love Kerouac. I'd even like to see the (by all accounts lamentable) 1960 film of The Subterraneans (with George Peppard and Leslie Caron).

Friday night, late, we'll see if I "wanna talk about it." After all the buildup, I could (after all) be wrong.

Stand by for another post on "what I'll be looking for" in the movie.

Pantheacon (9) - The Feri Revival

If you can imagine a cross between a Wicca-ish ritual and a Southern Baptist revival—you’ll have some idea of what a Feri Pagan Tent Revival is like.  I had heard about this event from previous Pantheacons but had never before attended.

 

I don’t know much about the Feri tradition.  It makes some of my friends “uncomfortable”—they consider it “creepy.”  From what I have read about it, it seems visionary and artistic.  I do sense more ambiguity and darkness than in some other Pagan traditions—but I don’t consider that in itself a bad thing.

As for the Feri “Revival”—I wonder how many of the participants come out of a U.S. Southern, or Southern Baptist Evangelical background.  I don’t, although I have lived in the South.

We were handed fans on the way in, I suppose so that we could fan ourselves as the room “heated up” with our fervor.  The event began with an musical offering from the choir.  Then, in a manner similar to Wiccan rituals, the directions were invoked.  This was done with music—my impression is that Feri is a very musical tradition.  In distinction to Wicca, seven directions, with their associated deities/personalities were called.  These were the four cardinal directions, the Center, and Above and Below.  This brought to mind the Nine Worlds of Norse tradition, which are these seven plus an additional world above and an additional one below.

Then The Preacher preached—and what a sermon she delivered!  It went on for some time—although I didn’t time it.  But it must have been ten…fifteen…or even more minutes.  There were shouts from the assembled of Amen!  I must confess, however, that I have no idea what The Preacher actually said.  I didn’t write anything down.  For how could I truly participate in the Revival and take notes at the same time?  And if The Preacher worked me into a trance, how could I record my impressions at the same time?  All I know is that I was moved, that I did enjoy—that I was transformed (in some undefined and unrecorded way).

I do have a note (but am I sure it refers to the Revival and not the following, Voodoo, event?):  “Full use of senses and emotions for ritual transformation.”  I think the note does refer to the Revival; it used music, words, costume, ritual objects and motion to change consciousness.

I did read later that Feri is related to Faery.  Or is it?  It appears the main connection is the similarity of the two words.  They may (paradoxically) be related simply in the fact that they consider one another different, although using related words to describe themselves.

But I enjoyed the Revival and felt…well…revived by it!  As for better understanding the Feri Tradition—that will come with time, I suppose.

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!

Pantheacon (6) – Pomba Gira

After the poly workshop I headed for the big Pomba Gira dance, scheduled to begin at 11 p.m.  This is a ninety-minute dance in honor of Pomba Gira, a figure in several Brazilian Afro-Catholic traditions (Umbanda, Candomblé).  At Pantheacon she is referred to as the “Sacred Harlot of Rio De Janeiro.”  To what extent this is true I do not know.  Is she thought to protect prostitutes?  Does she promote sacred sexuality?  I don’t know.  From online reading, I see that she is probably insatiable sexually, and that “you don’t want to make her mad.”  She is noted for her connection to women and to gay and effeminate men.

 

Pomba Gira apparently is actually a type of spirit, so there are many different incarnations; some of which are definitely promiscuous and vulgar.

Again, as at the Blues/Voodoo talk, I wondered how much of this presentation has been distorted by outsiders.  In the introduction to the dance, we are told that Pomba Gira will give you anything you want—as long as you are willing to pay for it.  I could not determine to what extent the presenters were Brazilians themselves or familiar with the Brazilian culture which gave rise to this tradition.  However, the annual dance to Pomba Gira is a very popular event at Pantheacon; this is the second year I have attended.

People attending are asked to dress in red and black, the colors associated with Pomba Gira.  All participants are checked for IDs on the way into the hall.  No cameras or recording devices of any kind are allowed.  Although I heard a report last year of a fondling “incident,” I noticed nothing of the sort—and noticed no incidents this year either.  I wasn’t aware of any nudity or any sexual activity.  Nevertheless, IDs are checked—no one under twenty-one is admitted! (I keep waiting for something to happen—it doesn’t).

Well—Let’s clarify that.  The dancing happens.  I dance for ninety minutes to the beat of the drums and the chanting, and I enjoy it.  We’re cautioned to drink plenty of water (but I’m never aware of any particular dehydration).  The drums continue, the chants go up to Pomba Gira.  From time to time I recognize someone in the crowd.  But my lovers aren’t there; the people I recognize are either casual friends or people I could conceivably feel attraction to—and I do feel attraction to them.  My mind goes into a weird space.  I suppose I’m in a light trance since time becomes timeless and the dancing goes on and I allow myself to feel the attraction towards certain people I have always found interesting or been attracted to or fantasized about.  This happened last year and happens again this year.  I open myself up psychically; I look into the eyes of these few people—and nothing happens.  They acknowledge my glance; but our eye contact is momentary.  Either we both feel too weird, or we’re both too unwilling, uncomfortable, or uninterested.  But I do feel like we have at least opened ourselves to honestly looking at one another.

So, as has happened earlier in the day and will happen again, I end up feeling alone and a bit let down.  I have again failed to connect with people.  But this is only the first day of the conference, and I did spend some time away in order to facilitate the writers club open mic elsewhere.  Perhaps tomorrow?

Pantheacon (5) - Polyamory

After dinner and an open mic not connected with Pantheacon, I headed back to the convention hotel to attend a discussion of polyamory, built around some useful poly attitudes.

Polyamory, if you are not familiar with the term, refers to love—usually romantic, sexual love—for  multiple people at once; the dating-, falling-in-love-and-staying-there kind of love.

The presenter was a woman from south Florida—a rather different environment that California!  About sixty people attended the workshop—a good showing, I thought.  Several of our own South Bay Poly members were there, as well as people from other parts of the country, including the Midwest; and people who had lived or grown up in Europe.

The presenter suggested five skills or attitudes that are useful for polyamory.  Of course, she was speaking from a modern Pagan perspective; however her suggestions would be useful for anyone.

First, she spoke of being sex-positive—thinking of sex as a good thing.  Pagans are generally sex-positive, but they are not the only “spiritual” tradition that embraces sex-positivity.  Unitarian-Universalism (my other tradition) does; and whether or not it is a majority position in their own tradition, individuals from many traditions view sex in a positive way.

Second, she spoke about good communication skills.  The cliché about poly is “Communicate, communicate, communicate!”  But communication is a must in any relationship!  She asserted that the Pagan path teaches us to be good communicators.  Upon reflection…I’m not sure that’s literally true.  Not that Pagans aren’t good communicators; I’m just not sure if it’s emphasized as much as this suggests.

Third, she discussed self-awareness—understanding your own needs and those of your partners.  And isn’t that what relationships are about?  (I suspect somehow that someone, somewhere, will argue this point).  She asserted that as Pagans we are taught to be honest with ourselves and honest about our needs.  We tend to be more self-reflective.

Fourth, she discussed the advantages of mastering small-group dynamics—these really come in handy within a poly family.  Of course, many Pagans work together in small, family-like groups (covens, etc).  This teaches us to get along in family-like environments.

Fifth and last, she mentioned tolerance—understanding that people don’t all see things the same way; so it is best to learn to accept our differences—something Pagans are generally extremely aware of.

I liked the tee-shirt she wore at the presentation, a shirt with a very “poly” slogan:  “Yes, my husband knows.”

This seemed an appropriate discussion to lead up to the final event of the evening:  A ritual dance for Pomba Gira.