Neoliberalism seen as a virus

Neoliberal so-called capitalism seen as a virus, a demon, a parasite, an operating system of global abuse, a sort of canibalism.

There is a contagious psychospiritual disease of the soul, a parasite of the mind, that is currently being acted out en masse on the world stage via a collective psychosis of titanic proportions. This mind-virus—which Native Americans have called "wetiko"—covertly operates through the unconscious blind spots in the human psyche, rendering people oblivious to their own madness and compelling them to act against their own best interests.

It is wholly accurate to describe neoliberal capitalism as cannibalizing life on this planet. It is not the only truth—capitalism has also facilitated an explosion of human life and ingenuity—but when taken as a whole, capitalism is certainly eating through the life-force of this planet in service of its own growth.

By contracting new relationships with others, with Nature, and with ourselves, we can build a new complex of entanglements and thought-forms that are fused with post-wetiko, post-capitalist values. 

We have to simultaneously go within ourselves and the deep recesses of our own psyches while changing the structure of the system around us. Holding a structural perspective and an unapologetic critique of modern capitalism—i.e., holding a constellational worldview that sees all oppression as connected—serves our ability to see the alternatives, and indeed, all of us, as intricately connected.

Let us give birth to, and become, living antigens, embracing the polyculture of ideas that are challenging the monoculture of wetikocapitalism. Let us be pollinators of new memetic hives built on altruism, empathy, inter-connectedness, reverence, communality, and solidarity, defying the subject-object dualities of Cartesian/Newtonian/Enlightenment logic.

 Let us reclaim our birth right as sovereign entities, free of deluded beliefs in market systems, invisible hands, righteous greed, chosen ones, branded paraphernalia, techno utopianism and even the self-salvation of the New Age.

Let us dance with thought-forms through a deeper understanding of ethics, knowing, and being, and the intimate awareness that our individual minds and bodies are a part of the collective battleground for the soul of humanity, and indeed, life on this planet. 

And let us re-embrace the ancient futures of our Indigenous ancestors that represent the only continuous line of living in symbiosis with Mother Nature. The dissolution of wetiko will be as much about remembering as it will be about creation.

Drawing on insights from Jungian psychology, shamanism, alchemy, spiritual wisdom traditions, and personal experience, author Paul Levy shows us that hidden within the venom of wetiko is its own antidote, which once recognized can help us wake up and bring sanity back to our society.

Sources -
http://www.kosmosjournal.org/article/seeing-wetiko-on-capitalism-mind-viruses-and-antidotes-for-a-world-in-transition/

Clearing Ragwort as a gift to Rhiannon

Recently, I was on a mission/day out several hours from home. I had not slept at all well for a couple of nights previously, and at the end of the day I found myself exhausted with a long drive home ahead of me.

I made sure that I had eaten and had plenty to drink and a bit of a rest before setting off, I also found a route home away from the motorway so that my mind could be kept active on the route.

As I set off, there was a short distance on the motorway before I could leave it, and  as I turned off to go through the country roads, I made a prayer to Rhiannon asking for  her assistance to carry me home safely.

I fared well on the journey, I actually felt more revived than before I had set off and enjoyed the journey, watching the view, the hills. woodlands, fields and changing countryside, feeling connected to the land and the rivers we crossed.

Roll on a couple of weeks to this weekend, and I came across completely by accident, a plea from a horse and pony sanctuary to clear ragwort from a new field they had obtained - ragwort of course being poisonous to horses, and this much needed new field was absolutely covered in it.

Giving thanks to Rhiannon for carrying me home safely, I volunteered to help out and also got a couple of friends to come along with me, and spent a lovely afternoon, actually working and making new connections and horsey friends. This is the point about a relationship with deity for me. It is a relationship, it goes both ways.

In modern practice it is common for us to ask the gods for  something, and make some sort of offering or sacrifice to pay for it. In ancient times it was the other way round, that the deity in question would be asked for some service, with an offering/gift/sacrifice made when or if the action was completed. This runs in line with my own relationship, if I have petitioned the gods for something and they have acted for me, I am aware that they will also present me with an opportunity soon afterwards to repay the favour, and it is up to me to keep that in mind and to see it.

So, in this case, my sacrifice was my time, and my aching muscles at the end of the session. A small price to pay.

Staying In It For the Long Haul

Just after the Spring Equinox in 2014, a druid ceremony took place just outside the village of Farndon in Cheshire. This was a semi-public occasion in front of about 30 non-pagan members of the public, and it was held in front of the gates to Dart Energy's exploratory drill site on the edge of the village to kick-start the local anti-fracking campaign,

The words spoken in that sacred space and time were to set the tone for the campaign, currently still ongoing 2 years later. Words to the effect of..."May our words be true, May our actions be just, May we treat each other with respect and May our motivation be founded on love for our land and our environment, not founded on hate."

Not many of the people gathered on that day realised how long this campaign was going to carry on, and how much of a toll it would take on everyones lives and wellbeing.

And this is the thing. The struggle against the fracking industry will take years.

The best resource that we can draw upon is ourselves. To be effective and to stay mentally and  physically well through a long term, and at times, tough campaign, each of us needs to be able to look after ourselves, and our trusted companions, or there will be times when we will fall by the wayside through stress, overwork or burnout.

If you are working magickally alongside a campaign, you will need to be aware of the longevity needed. It will take years, so it is important that your initial intention is grounded and healthy. Remember the reasons why you got involved in this, what made this important to you, and take the time every once in a while to check in with yourself and your actions - are they still in line with your intention?

Over the course of time, situations and people change, both in a physical sense, and through dealing with all the issues that come with the campaign, personalities change. Eyes get opened. The facade of the apparent world drops a little.

Take time to check - months, years later - are your campaign and your actions still in line with that reason that made you get involved right at the beginning? Has your campaign started to alienate you from the reason you got involved? If so, you may need to raise the ethos of the group as a subject for discussion with the other members, or change your level or manner of involvement, or work differently so that you stay involved and committed to a campaign that you feel proud and part of.

One of the phrases that has stuck with me personally was about the corruption and violence that is part of the mechanism that supports and propels this industry, and if you are OK with fracking, then you are saying you are OK with this level of corruption and violence that comes with it.

The same applies to the health of your group - and this isnt solely within the anti-fracking community - if the ethos of your group is unhealthy, or at odds with your own moral compass, it will take its toll on you. Even well meaning groups can, under stress, act in ways such as bullying egotism or sexism in order to achieve their goal. This is why checking in with yourself, and your reasons to be involved, is important. If you are aware that your group is acting against your own moral compass, but you carry on with it and accept that behaviour because you think it will achieve your goal, then you are also condoning this behaviour and saying it is OK to be this way.

As pagans, most of us at least try to live morally responsible lives or in ways hoping to make this world a better place. Often we have gone through rituals, initiations and journeys to make ourselves better people and increase our self awareness. This is what we need to hold on to. This industry is the product of, and supported by, a corrupt and at times immoral system. How can we hope to defeat it, if we become, or take on the very things that support it? If we do, we have failed. Even if the fracking companies are defeated, if we take on part their spirit, if each of us becomes a bit more accepting of the things that supported it and gave it power, a part of us dies, and 'it' lives on, inside us.

Especially if we are working magickally.

"Letting Us Look After The Site For Wildlife"

The River Dee (shortened version of Afon Dwfrdwy, waters of the Goddess) flows through North Wales on its journey to the sea. It forms Llyn Tegid at Bala, and flows out of it as it continues its journey. It has been called one of the most sacred rivers in Britain, in Celtic and pre-celtic times. Its the goddess, this river, Ayrwen who in the story of Taliesin pushes Gwion Bach through his transformations at the hands of Cerridwen to be come initiated as a druid.

Where she meets the sea, the mouth of the estuary is called The Point Of Ayr. There are no other settlements or land points in the area that the 'Ayr' refers to. It is the last place in this land where her name is carried on in a location name. The mouth of her waters.

Last week I took the opportunity to get back to the Point of Ayr for a much needed visit.
Instead of heading straight onto the beach, this time I was drawn to walk along the coastal path to the RSPB hide, where I had never been before.

It hadnt occourred to me that this path goes right alongside the gas processing plant, processing the gas piped in from the Bay of Liverpool and then sending it on to Connahs Quay power station.

Not really what I expect to see at the Point of Ayrwen, the place where she still holds onto the land with her name. Maybe in some sense the fire from the flaring stack fulfills some kind of symbolism, a flaming torch still burns there....in the long run its us that will pay the price, the land and herself, will carry on regardless of our survival.

This is right where the path heads up to the RSPB hide overlooking the estuary, indeed the amount of bird life there is astounding, on the mud flats at the mouth of the estuary. Somehow I still managed to be shocked at the statement that the RSPB were allowed by the gas company to look after the site for wildlife! To me that just sounded completely topsy turvey, this is a sacred site, our culture is so far removed from the natural world - there should be a sign there saying that we have allowed the gas processing plant to be there!

I rejoined the coastal path, which went round the site of the old colliery, which closed in 1996, the actual Point of Ayrwen. At the point where I reckoned the map said was THE point, a single bush grew, bent over by the wind, I investigated, hoping it was an elder, but it turned out to be a Buddleia bush. I walked round for a while, taking it all in, listening to the sounds, seeing the sites, feeling what it was like.

Desolation.

Abandonment.

I tried to use the narrative that we are always given, about nature reclaiming the land after we have moved on, nature taking over, re-wilding. But it fell on deaf ears. A few invasive non native species clinging on to the concrete just didnt convince me.
Desolation, abandonment, not of the coal mine or the industry that had been here, but of an older belief in the sacredness of this piece of land.

As I walked back I now noticed that the edges had been planted with new saplings. A token gesture. I just felt that this should not be allowed to happen in the first place. Bolting the stable door after the horse has bolted is not good enough.

I felt a sudden need to sit down on the grass and listen to the spirits, so I did, and there were several around, but one over riding one, she was caring and gentle, Repeating "Anooshka Anooshka" and I was getting repeated imagery of pathways, tracks lined by trees, that grew and grew over the pathways to make tunnels, repeated imagery of a vegetative figure with branches that were like antlers...

She is still there.

I walked back towards the beach, the flame still burning, and I bumped into a couple of young teenagers who wanted to touch my hair, full of questions.

It was not dusk and I went onto the beach in the failing light, soon it was dark and I felt her presence around me. A few spots of rain fell onto my face from the black clouds overhead. It should be much colder than this, but I felt warm and alive, and held. Though the wind was howling through the sand dunes, it gently caressed my cheek as I danced on the wet sand.

"I am the storm, and yet I hold myself back..."

Lugnasadh at the Point of Ayr

Now we find ourselves in the month of August, I spent the weekend preparing to celebrate Lugnasadh, but when I realized that the barley in my local fields was not yet ripe, I decided to put it off and wait a while longer.

I sent a few messages out and found that the wheat up the coast from me in North Wales was ripe, but as yet unharvested due to the wet ground, so having got permission, I secured myself a spot at the edge of a field, accessed through woodland and overlooking the Dee Estuary

I was there before sunset, and performed the ritual through that liminal time of not quite day but not quite night, through the time of the biting insects, but as I had invited the god into my ritual, and blood-letting was a part of it, I accepted whatever form he chose to arrive in ;-)

After the sun had set, and after closing the circle, I sat in the darkness and was joined in the tree above me by a tawny owl, right above my head, who was calling to another owl in the oak tree in the centre of the field, and pretty soon another had joined in from several fields away behind me. Rabbits were thumping an alarm from quite nearby to me, and badgers were in the woods.

The rising sound of a multitude of birds from the estuary signaled the turning tide, so on my way back home Istopped off at the Point of Ayr to watch the tide come in. The amount of birds there in the darkness, and the intensity of their calls as they flew in to the rapidly diminishing beach was amazing! She Herself was ever present at the mouth of the estuary, and blanketed us all in the thickest and blackest of cloud, the only senses remaining were the touch of the sand on my bare feet, the sound of the waves coming in and the call of the wading birds who inhabit these liminal spaces.

Taking advantage of the darkness and the solitude I took off my trousers and paddled thigh deep in the water, noting for future reference the strength of the current.

It was the full moon a couple of nights ago, so this was the highest tide of the month, the blackness was broken by a gap in the clouds, it was as if somebody had switched the light on. I decided it was a good time to come out and find my clothes and look at the beauty of the beach and the dunes revealed by moonlight.

High tide was at 01.30am, and it was time to head home, by now realising that I had fasted all day, so I headed back through the dunes, and made the discovery that the entire area inland behind the dunes also floods with the high tide, so once again I had to strip off and wade through the water to get back to dry land.

(dry land is that way!)

Such an amazing and beautiful area, shared by holiday makers, wildlife, and the unseen people, like myself. So very much worth protecting and saving for all our sakes, its not just the obvious uses and the financial reasons that we need to consider. Any Unconventional Gas Extraction industry will completely change the nature of this landscape, not just on the coast but inland too.

There is a local group PAFF and Frack Free Dee committed to protecting this area from the fracking industries, they have already had some success in time for their first harvest of Lugnasadh, where Cluff Natural Resources have now made an announcement that they are not planning to come here in the foreseeable future the burn the coal beneath the estuary to release the gas from it.

We await the news of the 14th round of PEDL license sell-offs to find out just how much of our beloved land has been sold off to the gas industry. I see no other option, as a pagan, than to resist this destruction.

Summer Solstice on the Coast

Summer solstice 2015, unsure of where to go, some of my friends were going to Stonehenge, some were attending a more local public ritual during the day, I knew I wanted to see the sun rise though, but I didnt want to have to travel to the other end of the country to do this.
I decided to go to the Point of Ayr, in North Wales. 30 minutes drive from me. It was either there, or a hilltop, to get the view to the north-east.
I checked that the high tide was approx 2.30am on that beach, and I arrived an hour later.
Miles and miles of empty beach, nobody else at all present, nobody in robes to do ritual, no crowds, no party, just me, the land, sea and sky.
The tide was receding, the beach washed clean and the sand rippled and wet from the waves. The first rays of light in the sky reflected off the puddled beach, as I walked to the waters edge, the grey sky tinged with pink, the beach itself was like walking out onto a silvered mirror.

As above, so below....
This area, underneath the Dee estuary is under threat from Underground Coal Gasification (UCG) - a company called Cluff Natural Resources, a mis-nomer if ever there was one, has obtained a license to set fire to the coal seams beneath the estuary, to release the gas held within it.
Does this landscape look like it needs burning?

A local group has been set up to oppose this industry, I will help them do all they can to preserve the sanctity of this special place.

Drums of Gwyn

Pulled up in our van up on the moors at the edge of the Berwyn hills, the hills of Gwyn ap Nudd.

Having a small lunch with the sound of grouse in the heather and skylarks singing as they rise up into the sky.

A large grey bird of prey just flew past over the heather, possibly a hen harrier - coming into a new landscape means having to learn the names and habits of new animals and spirits before I can hear their messages properly. The only constant message that I understand is the litter blowing on the breeze and the timber lorry going past on the road fully laden with felled trees.

Sipping on a cup of coffee in the van, a car when past on the road, the drum beats from the stereo booming out... The car passed but the drum beats carried on, sitting in silence now, I wasn't sure if the drums were from the car now vanished off into the distance, or from the wind buffeting the van... Or if they came from the moorland itself...

I decided to go and check it out. I had my drum with me and strode off into the moor, without really having a plan. I eventually came to a small hollow where a stream tumbled through, with a fallen birch  and a stubborn holly defying the ever present wind.

Here I laid out offerings of bread, for the sheep if for nobody else, and I began to drum. Moving around I found that the place that responded was the stream itself, so  I crouched down and drummed to the water, the life source of the hills and the valley below.

I had to laugh, drumming to the water I suddenly got caught, with blue sky above, I was in a sudden squall of horizontal rain soaking my face. Then they had had enough and I sensed it was time to finish, the drum no longer singing into the wind.

As I drummed the last few beats I heard my name being called from the direction of the van. OK, definitely time to head back then.

Soaked by the rain I got back. Nobody had called me. I had been called out to the moor, drummed to the water, it had responded and then I was called back, the interaction complete.

On the drive home we got some stunning views of the Tanat Valley from the road on the way down off the moors.