The Endless Knot

The first aspect of Celtic spirituality that I want to mention is one of the more visible ones, and it's pretty essential to the whole mindset: the Celtic knot. Visible in most forms of art that appear in Celtic cultures, the Celtic knot features twisting, interlocked lines and shapes. It often includes figures representing animals and spirits, and it regularly appears in some type of circular pattern.

Besides being visually interesting (following all those lines is reminiscent of looking at an M.C. Escher piece!),  there's an important concept being illustrated. To the Celts (among others), there's a connected-ness to everything. Not only are all the members of a family or community connected, but the communities themselves are as well. Everyone is connected. And the rest of the natural world is connected to us humans. The animals, the trees, the streams, the rocks. And even more importantly, the spiritual world is connected to the physical. In the Greco-Roman way of thinking that largely shaped Western Christianity, the spiritual and physical realms are poles apart.

There has long been a schism between so many aspects of reality—between self and others, us and them, the good and the bad—that we who were raised into it can't even see it for what it is. And I'm not shaking my finger at people who were brought up in this way of thinking. What else did we know? But it is such a liberty, such a relief, to begin to see that it's really all connected.

It's rather sad that so much of Western thought is built on the premise of separation. It's the sort of zero-sum game wherein in order for me to win, someone else has to lose. When did the whole concept of winning come from, anyway? Why do we have to have winners and losers? This whole business of living is not a contest.

It's all about life. Some things give life and some things sap it. And in our Endless Knot, what gives life to one part gives life to all.

The Old Blood Sings

One of my favorite fantasy series, The Wheel of Time, features the following quote: “The old blood is strong in Emond's Field, and the old blood sings.” (Emond's Field is the fictional village where the epic story begins.)

This quote kind of hits home for me. Of course, we all carry with us the DNA of our parents, grandparents, and so on. But there is a thinking in many ancient traditions that we carry much more. Native Americans, Celts, many Asian traditions, and others believed that the collective memories and spirits of our ancestors live on in us. I don't know how empirical this may or may not be, but I think there's something to it. A contemporary example would be some in the Southern states who seemingly remember the Civil War as if it just happened yesterday. In fact, many in the North joke that their Southern brethren act as if the war never ended. (I don't think everyone in the South finds it amusing.)

How is this possible? I can't speak for Southerners, but I think people who seriously explore history can become so immersed that a certain immediacy evolves. One really can find oneself in the mindset of that time and place.

I have found myself in that very situation over the last several years. In beginning research for a book idea, I started to examine Celtic spirituality. Part of my heritage is Irish, so I felt an affinity for this topic. As my study continued, the affinity grew into a true fascination. I felt so drawn to the Celtic culture and the Celtic philosophy that it started to reshape my own. In particular, the Celtic approach to spirituality—specifically Christianity—wormed its way into my personal worldview.

In coming posts, I will explore what this means. I don’t mean to set up my way of thinking above anyone else’s or to denigrate other views.  My aim is to explain my vantage point as I discuss things here. The secondary benefit would be that some readers might encounter a new way of viewing things, or at least a desire to further explore certain ideas.

So I would simply encourage everyone to keep an open mind (good advice in any case, I would hope). You might discover some new ways of looking at things. And perhaps your own Old Blood will sing within you!

Independence Day

We all celebrate or birthdays every year. Well, many of us do. Some rebel against them and only grudgingly yield to the pressure to mark the day at all.

The United States celebrates its birthday on July 4, a day usually populated by fireworks, picnics, and general summer merriment. As a kid, I remember the Fourth of July as THE major highlight of the summer. We usually did a cookout at my grandparents' place and the watched the local fireworks display--just a few blocks away and from their back yard. On a few occasions, I was permitted/encouraged to go expend some of my youthful restfulness at the mini-carnaval at the high school.

Years go by, and some traditions fall away. Our annual fireworks watch did. Eventually the fireworks display itself moved over a mile away, so we couldn't even see most of them from the back yard any more.

So what does the Fourth of July mean to me now? I still enjoy watching fireworks; this year and last we enjoyed them from the porch of our B&B in New Jersey (see previous post). Our family only occasionally does the gathering. And that's okay; we see each other pretty regularly anyway.

I know people connect to Independence Day in many different ways--some as I mentioned above, some with strains of Lee Greenwood or Toby Keith. These days I tend to get history-minded. I'm sure it has something to do with the fact that I was in a production of 1776 a while back. (I played Witherspoon from NJ.) I find myself thinking about what it must have been like to be in that time of great turmoil. How frightening to be willing to forsake the only national identity one had ever known--a subject of the greatest empire on the globe. To turn toward what? Apparently the founders had no real idea what this new nation they were birthing would be. The First and Second Continental Congress seemed to give very little hope for any kind of unity. Delegates from, say, Connecticut and South Carolina seemed to have more in common with their English cousins than with each other. They were very much foreigners to one another. And they had serious disagreements on such issues as the scope of centralized government and the institution of slavery.

It's rather amazing that they were able to put their differences aside, at least long enough to achieve their common goal. The issue of the power of the federal government saw an ill-conceived outcome in the Articles of Confederation before finally being settled in 1787. And of course, the issue of slavery--and, yes, of states' rights--came to a tragic head less than a century later. But still, those brave, forward-thinking men were able to achieve their goal, a new nation founded in freedom and self-government.

There have certainly been some bumps along the way. But I'd say the Great Experiment has worked.

OCNJ

This week my wife Joan and I make our annual pilgrimage to Ocean City, New Jersey.

I use the word pilgrimage very intentionally. On the surface, there's nothing particularly spiritual about Ocean City, no more so than any other beach resort town. But for us, it's a chance to recharge our spiritual batteries. Any type of vacation can do this, of course. Getting away from the daily grind, particularly work, is essential once in a while to maintain one's sanity. And certainly everyone will find his or her own special place. For us, that's OCNJ.

It's a family resort town (i.e., dry), which takes it out of the college kid circuit. It also limits our options for drinks with dinner, but that's okay. It's just a short drive over the bridge to restaurants that do serve alcohol. We found a lovely little B&B a block and a half from the beach, and we've been staying there every summer for years. It really has become a home-away-from-home for us. It's so comfortable and relaxed being familiar with where we stay, where we eat, where we walk, where we shop.

Aside from the comfort and peace of the overall vacation experience, the beach itself has become a sort of sanctuary for me. I used to be not so much a beach person, but Joan so loves it that she converted me. One of the biggest obstacles for me was the sunburn. I'm so fair-skinned that just a bit of exposure turns me into a lobster. But a big umbrella and faithful application of sunscreen has handled that issue.

With the sunburn obstacle out of the way, I've been able to allow my soul to connect to the heartbeat of the shore. The ancients talked about liminal times and places, in between one thing and another. Dawn and dusk are examples, and so is any place where earth, water, and sky meet. So the seashore is definitely one of these places. The thinking goes that in these liminal places (and times) the division between spiritual and physical reality is very thin. This is why groves, wells, rivers, lakes, and the seashore were always sacred places. Remember the scene in City of Angels where the angels gathered at the seashore at sunrise? It's the total convergence of day and night, land and sea.

I've been coming to a place in my life where I'm seeing that dividing line as thin in more and more of everyday life. But I especially appreciate these liminal experiences. There's a refreshing of the soul and an opening of the heart and mind to truths too profound for words. I am all about words; I love to read and find great release and freedom in writing. But there are times that words fall short. When faced with great beauty or deep truth in life, there are just sometimes too deep for words to express the cries of our hearts and spirits.

That's what the ocean is for.