Druidry and Scripts

When it comes to ritual, whether or not a group uses scripts radically informs how the process works. In terms of picking a group to join, aside from geography I think this is one of the most important issues to consider. Groups that favour scripts are also more likely to favour robes or other pre-agreed dress, whereas groups who favour improvising are likely to have a looser stance across the board.

The advantage of a script is that everyone knows what they are supposed to do and when. For someone new to ritual, this can be very reassuring. It also makes the ritual easier to run – once the scripts are distributed, off you go. Stick to the script and all will be well. As running a group is a scary thing to dive into, having a script means setting up a new ritual group isn’t as intimidating. Imagine going into a circle with a bunch of strangers and no clear plan…. (I have, it is intimidating, but I loved it.)

It’s not even necessary to create a script – there are plenty out there, especially OBOD derived ones. Again this gives the reassurance of doing the right thing, the comfort of framework, the ease of being able to move between different groups and still know how things are going to work.

Those of you who frequent my blogs will know that ‘ease’ ‘comfort’ and ‘reassurance’ are not things I tend to advocate. Fine if that’s what you want, but it isn’t for me. In the case of scripting, here are my issues.

1) A scripted ritual cannot respond to circumstances as you find them on the day – weather, mood, recent news, unexpected inspirations. Consequently a scripted ritual can turn out to be totally inappropriate and there’s no fixing it as you go.

2) Scripts are handed out, roles allotted. This means someone is very much in charge, picks who will speak and puts words in their mouth. Not very egalitarian. It means new folk are less likely to find an active role, in open rituals.

3) There is no scope for bringing creativity to your role in ritual. Words in ritual can be pure poetry, they can be your bardic expression, your moment of connection with the awen. Improvising draws on bardic skills and allows participants to respond to each other. Scripts keep you locked into a plan.

4) Using a script defines a form for the ritual to take, and assumes that the ritual forms we have are optimal. I think every group is different, and that in ditching the script you have more room to find out what works for you, to craft ritual forms specific to place, time and people as well as finding your own words.

5) You can get a script ‘wrong’ – muff lines, throw other people out. You may find it hard to read, especially in poor light or rain. As with a stage play, if someone lands on the wrong page, it can all go to pot. As everyone else can see the script, a person who muffs their lines is going to be totally obvious and potentially a lot more uncomfortable.

6) Scripts assume good literacy skills, and being able to see. This will not necessarily be true of everyone. They also focus the ritual on verbal content, narrowing options and risking reduced opportunities for folk who are not verbal in their expression of Druidry.

I’d advocate trying it both ways, and seeing what works. Letting go of the script safety net can be scary, but it is liberating. I think the Druidry that comes from free flowing inspiration is wilder, and a lot richer, in so many ways. I appreciate it might not be for everyone, but you won’t know until you try!

Superpowers

I work on the comics side sometimes (www.itisacircle.com) and this means an awareness of superheroes. So here’s a question to kick off today’s amble into philosophy. Why is it, in comics, that when a person discovers they have superpowers, the only response to that is to don a kinky outfit and beat up criminals? “God has given me a gift and I shall use it to fight crime.”

There are a great deal of wrongs and injustices out there that have nothing to do with crime. Often it’s the flaws in our legal systems that cause the greatest injustices of all. Most of us will never rub shoulders with super villains either.

In part it’s about storytelling, about easy action and a certain kind of un-complex heroism that has nothing to do with reality at all.

But ask yourself this: If you discovered you had a superpower, would you take it as meaning that you HAD to do something productive with it? Would you feel morally obliged to get out there and fight crime, or some other focal point for wrongdoing? And whatever your answer is, why is that so?

If we look at ourselves in the right way, most of us have some trait that sets us apart. We might not be able to melt metal by glaring at it, or leap buildings in a single bound, but we all have something. I have a knack for putting emotions into words. I’ve found this is tremendously powerful for helping people get to grips with bad experiences. Words are power, sense making, reclaiming control. Many people find talking about emotion hard. This is not a candidate for cape wearing bad-guy-kicking career options. But should I be doing something with it that puts it to use?

How many talents do any of us have? Abilities that lie unexplored, or under developed. Skills we know we have, but do not use much. Are we doing everything we could be? And should we be doing everything we could be? Does having innate ability, in any field, create an obligation to use it? I suspect most people would not consider that it does.

The superhero archetype is an interesting one because it offers us the notion that innate gifts are meaningful. In a superhero world, being blessed with a talent means being obliged to get out and use it for good, or perhaps choosing to be the bad guy instead. It doesn’t mean squandering it, ignoring it or otherwise letting it slip away. If we took our own abilities more seriously, might we not see them the same way? If you can make someone laugh, you might save their life, literally. Everything we do well enriches our own lives and other peoples. We don’t tend to see these small gifts and acts as important, much less heroic, but I think we should. If we view ourselves, each and every one of us as in some way special, empowered, meant for greater things, sent to this world on a mission to make better… what might we do then? It’s not about waking up one morning and finding you can see through the walls, (ah, how I shall foil those criminals now!) it’s about seeing the value of what we have, and not being afraid to get out there and make something of it.

Wear your cape, literally or figuratively as you see fit.

Picking a Path

How do you know if you’re a Pagan? Or for that matter, which branch of paganism you belong in? It’s one of those questions where the answers lead to more questions. The short answer is ‘resonance’. This is not a thing you find by rational, logical means, just a sense of belonging, of it feeling right. There’s no right way in, no bar to jump over that qualifies you to use the word, or many of the other words pagans use to describe themselves.

For some people, the absence of clear definitions is a problem. Anyone can call themselves anything they like, there is no formal hierarchy to give or withhold titles. Even in Druidry. This frequently surprises folk who imagine that big orders, or outfits like The Druid Network are somehow empowered to grant or remove titles. No one is. People pick them, and if others recognise and use them, they stick. (There is the option of looking like an idiot, also).

People get into paganism because they read a book, or saw a film. Young folk may come in via Harry Potter, Sabrina the Teenage Witch and so forth. For some it’ll be another fad amongst the many, for others it’s a doorway to finding true spirituality and a significance that stays. I’m not alone in having played a Druid character in a gaming system on route to self identifying as a Druid. The gaming did not make me a Druid, it taught me nothing of Druidry, but enabled me to realise how resonant that word is for me, that there was a deeper attraction I needed to get out there and explore.

It’s easy to mock people for coming to paganism through childish, foolish seeming doors. We don’t all get dramatic relevations on stormy mountaintops. We don’t all dream of Stonehenge, or have a Granny who really was a witch. Inspiration comes where we find it, and anything that takes us forward is good.

Most people study Druidry because something about the word, the history, the imagery and the myths calls to them. And that’s really all there is to it. Some folk will move on other places in their quest for self knowledge, others discover ‘home’ and stay. But once ‘inside’ it doesn’t stop there. What kind of Druid are you? Do you need to belong to an Order, and if so, which one? Do you need robes? A Script? A Qualification?

You don’t really speaking need anything beyond your own desire to learn, but there are people who will tell you all manner of necessities and try and sell you all kinds of things. It all comes back to resonance. What feels right? What speaks to your soul? If you have a deep yearning for a beard and white robes, follow it. If your Druidry cries out for mud, blood and moon rites, then that is your path. Whatever direction you are called in, the chances are good of finding fellow travellers (if you want them) and people to share the journey with.

Religion, all religion, is about mystery. It’s not about having clear answers, and tidy solutions. That’s just the trappings of religious bodies. It’s easy to mistake structures for spirituality, especially old and well established ones. It’s easy to want the reassurance of fitting in somewhere, having a label and a place to stand. But true spirituality is not about climbing into someone else’s box and being neat. It is about the calling of your own wild soul, and only you can know which path that sets you on.

Under Scrutiny

Privacy is something I used to take for granted, and life without it, is very strange. The freedom to form relationships, live, love, marry, raise children without anyone looking that closely, is a thing I once took for granted. I suspect a lot of folks do. All that ‘an it harm none, do what thou wilt’ philosophy for a start, and a system that generally doesn’t pry into what you do at home.

Except sometimes it does.

Marry someone from abroad, and you have to put your entire relationship into a public space for scrutiny so you can get permission to keep them.

If you are a victim of any kind of crime or abuse, getting justice requires a relinquishing of privacy. The incident may have to be put into the context of your life. Anything can be asked, privacy evaporates.

Find yourself in court, and again, all those things that once seemed personal, and your own, can be dragged out for the attention of strangers.

The medical side can take you there as well – not just with the total loss of physical privacy (I could tell you stories about childbirth) but in the investigating of emotional states and lifestyle.

Most people don’t have to live with this kind of scrutiny of self, relationship and lifestyle most of the time, finding that I have had to over the last 12 months or so has been a system shock.

What right do I have to privacy? What right do I have to hold my own experiences within myself, to keep my body and mind closed to others? Of course I could refuse, but that would take a hideous toll on the very family and lifestyle I want to protect. I’d say that generally I’m an honest and open person, most things I will share. I’m very private about pain and distress, hate crying in front of others. I think to hold a sense of yourself as a person, it really helps to be able to hold boundaries, to decline to share, but that’s not always an option. I am inclined to resent the systems that require this of me, but to change that would require some major overhauls of a lot of things.

Any kind of freedom merits celebrating. And so many of the most basic freedoms that we take for granted can evaporate, when circumstances get out of our control. The invasion of crime can lead to the greater invasion of the legal process. When we step outside the narrow lines of ‘normal’ then governments, and government bodies have given themselves the right to ask us questions, to demand answers, to turn up on the doorstep with a clipboard. Partly that’s to make sure no one cheats, (which doesn’t work) for protection (again, a fallible system) but it costs, at a soul level.

No answers today, just observations.

Creative Working

One of the big differences between a creative job and your regular nine to five, is that inspiration does not turn up just because you’ve sat down to work. However, whatever your field, if you work creatively, other people will expect you to meet deadlines, produce content to order, and otherwise fit in with the corporate plan. Creative folk have to pay bills and eat just like everyone else.

It is possible to be largely independent – self publishing, selling your own art on ebay, singing songs in the street… and yes, that gives you all the freedom in the world, but it is unspeakably difficult to earn enough money that way for survival. To earn any kind of living, is a lot easier if you have a publisher, an agent, proper gigs, an art gallery and so forth. Which means getting involved with the business end of the world. Deadlines. Target audiences. Marketing plans.

Unless our entire social structure changes dramatically, this is going to stay the shape of it. To survive in an artistic career, you have to also be able to navigate the murky waters of commercialism. You have to be able, to some degree, to work like someone with a regular job. Which means you also have to know when to walk away from this and point blank refuse. If there comes a point when being commercially ‘viable’ means doing things at odds with your honour, or the very essence of your inspiration, then it is best to walk away. Perhaps you could pull it off once. Twice even, but after a while, too much pressure to be what you are not, can eat away the roots of your inspiration and leave you with nothing. And if your work depends on your creativity, that’s not any kind of commercial good sense.

Inspiration is such a key concept in Druidry, yet for many people, there’s the issue of bringing it into their lives. At the moment, to take a ‘creative’ job is unusual. Why aren’t all jobs creative? They could be. There is nothing in the world to which you cannot bring inspiration, innovation, soul. How many jobs actively encourage that? Some of the more vocational ones do, but the increasing emphasis on ticking boxes is putting pressure on folk like teachers, making them conform, knocking the originality out of their options.

Where we all aspire to do the same things in the same ways, there is consistency. There is also soul-numbing dullness. In industry, ‘quality control’ is not about determining whether a thing is truly good enough, the best it could be, or even fit for purpose. It’s about making sure they all come out the same, most of the time. Being the same is not being good. ‘Quality’ should not be equated with predictability. In fact I’m inclined to argue that good things should have an element of the unique about them. About the only writing of Ruskin’s I like, is his piece on why humans should not be expected to turn out work like machines and why beauty lies in the humanity of imperfection. We are not machines, nor should we aspire to be them.

I’d rather have something creative, custom made and unique than something mass produced. I’d rather have individual solutions than ‘one size fits all’ lifestyles.

Creativity is in no way opposed to commercialism, the two can be put together in wonderful ways. Good art should not only be entertaining, but affordable, and able to feed its producer and keep a decent roof over his or her head.

We should all be working creatively. Every employer should treasure, nurture, encourage the thinking and innovation of their workforce. I hear more stories about originality being crushed than it being supported. The next thing to contemplate, and speak softly of, is how much we need to stop equating ‘same’ with ‘good’ and ‘predictable’ with ‘suitable’. No matter what we do, we should all be free to approach that as artists, with the same passion, sensibility, integrity and determination.

Natural Habitat

Natural Habitat

Any conversation about preserving wild creatures or plants inevitably includes thoughts about habitat. Nothing exists in isolation, and if the ecosystem, the landscape and the relationships are not preserved, the ‘special’ creature of interest will not thrive. Nothing thrives.

Somehow in the midst of this, we’ve taken to thinking of habitat as something other. Somewhere else. Where the birds and creatures live. We forget that we too are creatures. We are not separate from the ecosystems.

We’ve been creating our own habitats for so long, that the idea of a natural habitat for humans, at first glance, seems weird, if not irrelevant. By our very natures, we do not have natural habitats, right? Wrong. All the things that harm creatures, harm us because we are creatures too. Pollution, excess of noise, too much light at night, loss of green spaces, loss of freedom. We do not thrive in depressing, grimy, polluted places. Mental and physical health are improved by time outside, time with trees.

We’re so used to our nests and caves that we don’t think enough about the habitat we need for human wellbeing. It has open water in it. So many people love streams, rivers, canals and the sea. We gravitate towards lakes. We need water that we can walk or sit beside. We need grass to sit upon and trees to sit under. We depend on the land for food, even if most of us don’t see that on a daily basis.

If we created our urban spaces with an eye not for immediate profit and commercial intent, but to make good habitats for humans, life would be so different. I’ve seen spaces that made me feel it could be done – the beautiful, vibrant space that is The Custard Factory in Birmingham, or the area there around Gas Street Basin. Public spaces, people, trees, buildings, no two things identical.

We shouldn’t be talking about preserving the habitats of this or that creature, as though we are doing them a favour. This is our habitat too. Even if we can’t find the empathy to care about anything else, we ought to care enough about ourselves to maintain spaces we can thrive in, rather than places that engender depression, starve our souls, and make our bodies ill.