I think it was Jo VanderHoeven on her blog (see blog links for Octopus Dance) who talked about how, with mindfulness, we feel the emotion and allow it to pass through us without being caused to act by it in a way we might later regret. (I’m trusting Jo will correct any mistakes here on my part.)

Now, here’s the rub. Most of my emotions are so intense, so all consuming, that the idea of them passing through gently is hard to imagine. I live in fairly intense emotional spectrums, and repressing any emotion so that it does not result in a physical expression is unspeakably hard. Experience to date suggests that the physical expression of my emotions does cause distress to others, and I am not comfortable with causing that distress, so mostly I try not to. Frequently I fail.

The quandary: Do my emotions, in their raw, chaotic and powerful state, constitute my nature, or are they something that I need to learn to tame and control? If they are my nature, are they allowable, is there some place for them, somewhere in the world? If I tame them, I might be able to become the more placid, docile, biddable person I feel certain the people around me would find it more comfortable to deal with. Would I be a better person if I could tame the extremities of my feelings?

Or is there anything in here that might have an intrinsic value, somewhere, somehow? (I’m unconvinced, but I have to ask for the sake of balance.)

I’ve spent most of my adult life trying for control, trying to be what those around me want me to be – of which one of the key elements has always been expressing a gentle, co-operative persona, which is just a construct, is not in any way ‘real’ in terms of how I understand myself. And there are days when holding that together and keeping it smiling is so hard that I just want to curl up and weep.

I will confess that I have spent my whole life yearning for some kind of space where I could feel safe about letting some of the other stuff out. There have been times, sharing music, when I’ve been able to express and feel fully alive, in the moment, whole… but music is abstract, and it’s easy for people not to have to look too hard at what’s really going on there, which makes it inherently safer. There are times when the sheer loneliness inherent in feeling unable to share my emotional self, is crippling. I say it, in case there is someone out there who feels this too, and who can find some catharsis, or companionship in these words.

I’m not sure it is mindfulness. It’s a good cover. It may in fact be fear. I know perfectly well that what lives on the inside is a fairytale monster full of teeth and excess. If it gets out, if anyone sees it, I will become an exile. Hiding is survival. Mindfulness keeps the fear of what I am under control.

I know I am blessed with some brilliant, insightful and forthright commentators on this blog. This is without a doubt the most personal thing I have ever put in a public place. It will be interesting to see what anyone does with this.

From the first radical noises in the 1200s, the first rebellions that I’ve read about, people have been protesting about the way in which money and power collect into the hands of the few who then control the law so that the money and power remain in their control. While we’ve come a fair way from feudal times (it’s your Count that votes!) I read this stuff and I realise we are having all the same arguments today. All the ‘takeover’ protests, all the troubles with bankers, and the way in which the very poor are being made, all over the world, to pay for the indulgencies and gambling of the very rich.

The history of radical politics fills me with despair, because it is so obvious that the same essential battle has been going on for centuries, and we still have power and wealth in the hands of the very few. Quality of life, life expectancy, and personal freedoms have all advanced on where they were for the early radicals, but compared to how things could be… we are living in the dark ages still. I also despair because of the ease with which the radicals of history sometimes turned tyrants themselves. The history of violence inherent in the history of protest is not anything to be proud of. Radical history has no shortage of figures who were in it for their own gain, recent history too. If we tear down the king in order to be king ourselves, we are no different from what went before, no matter what we spouted along the way.

At the same time, radical history also awes me. There were plenty of people who gave up comfort to campaign for rights. There were people who endured imprisonment, barbarous physical punishments and death in trying to improve things. I do not honestly think I would have the courage to stand by any belief all the way to the scaffold or the stake. We have at least made enough progress in the UK that being a radical is not automatically a means of courting death, but there are still countries where you can die for daring to defy oppression and tyranny. There are still people brave enough to give their lives in the hopes of making a difference. The heroism inherent in such sacrifice deserves far more recognition than it gets.

In the midst of this, I also feel hope. Wherever there have been wrongs in the world, there has always been some small, courageous voice raised against them. I feel concern because I have no doubt that many people with repressive, controlling, diminishing ideals for the rest of humanity think that they are bravely speaking up for the common good. There are people who are determined to feel spiritually, or psychologically harmed by what others do. Even if they aren’t present, directly affected, or even able to see it. The idea that someone is having gay sex, being a pagan, letting their women drive cars… is so offensive to some people that they would have no problem answering ‘an it harm none’ with the assertion that they are indeed being harmed and must protect themselves from the horror. While anyone believes they have the right (god given or otherwise) to control other human beings, in this way, we are going to have problems.

Reading about the tradition of crazy prophet women from the 1600s, writing illegal pamphlets touting ideas the elite didn’t want to hear… I think yes, this is something I belong to, just a bit. I watch the discourse across blogs, and it’s not so very different from the way people used to carry out arguments through pamphlets. Just a bit quicker, and sometimes with better spelling.

Historically, radicals have not tended to get what they want up front. It takes time to turn an insane heresy into an idea everyone can embrace. The transition from slave trading to the abolishment of it, was not rapid. Civil rights movements take time. They have to build support and belief, convince the mainstream that ‘normal’ does not mean ‘right’ and establish a whole new way of viewing the world before they take hold and themselves become ‘normal’. Every battle for human rights, freedom of expression, the equal valuing of all human life, has been slow won. But we do win more of them than not, eventually. So long as there are voices of dissent and people willing to question, there is hope.

Social fairness and the resistance of power is as much an issue as it ever was. We aren’t fighting over Biblical interpretations so much these days. The new heresies have everything to do with issues of climate change and human responsibility. The kind of radicals I’m interested in are talking radical compassion, radical resource redistribution, radical revaluing. The greatest dangers lie in thinking it’s all fine, and that we can sit back and trust that our freedoms and rights are safeguarded. Ask who has power over you, and ask what is done in your name, without your consent. One piece of repressive legislation is all it would take to turn most of us into criminals, or victims, or both.

Nimue: I notice you’ve said online that your book on Zen and Druidry is your
third book contract, so, what were the other two? I’m clearly behind here.

Jo: My other two books are a medieval fantasy (pulp fantasy my partner calls it!) called Falconwing and I also have a book of poems, entitled Instinct & Inspiration (the poetry book feels a little juvenile now, as it was written over ten years ago, and my style has very much changed – and improved!).

Nimue: Zen and druidry – how did you come to bring these two traditions together?

Jo: I’ve always had a great interest in religion, spirituality and philosophy from around the world.  I’ve been on the Druid path for over 10 years now, formerly a Wiccan.  I can’t quite remember how I stumbled upon Zen, but I began to see the similarities between the two emerge as I delved ever deeper into both Druidry and Zen.  Both have roots that can be traced back to India – at different times, it seems the proto-Celts went west, while Zen went east! The tenants and philosophies were much alike.  I also found that while studying and practicing Zen (in essence, meditation) it could be applied to Druidry and both would benefit.

Many people seem to think that Zen meditation is all about clearing the mind, focusing on having no thought. In reality, Zen teaches us to notice our thoughts as they happen, and as we observe we can eventually change our patterns into something much calmer, less chaotic – simplicity in its essence.  Rather than emptying our mind, we notice thoughts as they arise, and by noticing not allowing them to control us. This eventually leads to a state of mindfulness – being completely aware of  yourself and your surroundings.

This was essential in my Druid meditation. Whether practicing inside or outside, complete mindfulness was the key to true connection. Carrying that mindfulness into everyday activities was the next step.  It has allowed me to deepen my Druidry even further, allowing for profound change. Not only the principles of Zen deepened my Druidry, but the practice as well!

Nimue: How important to you is that historical angle and sense of connection between the two traditions? Or possibly, is the connection there because of the history, or is it something else, or both?

Jo: I think the connection is there within most spiritualities – they develop as we search for a meaning for our existence, for a reason why things happen… they are all rooted in the same basic human condition. Much in the same way as I see similarities between Heathenry and Druidry, so too did I make the connection with Zen and Druidry. In fact, you could say I’m a Zen Heathen Druid! Celtic and Heathen recontructionists are face-palming right now, aren’t they?

I wouldn’t say that it’s all that important to have the historical connection – everyone’s path is their own, no one can walk it for them. Therefore, each person has their own needs, which may or may not be met by an existing tradition, spirituality or philosophy.  Whether there is a historical connection or not, if it works, then it is meeting the needs of the individual.  For me, that is what is most important.

Nimue: Good words! I know you have an ‘evolving tradition’ attitude, from your words on belly dancing. How does that thread fit with the others?

Jo: Do you mean how does belly dancing fit in with Zen and Druidry?  I find dance one of the greatest physical expressions of emotion, inspiration – it’s storytelling without words.  So much is happening with your body when you dance – and also with your soul.  Being completely mindful of your dance, feeling every muscle, allowing the story to come through you, your story, maybe how you are feeling at that very moment – it’s just such a great expression, or reflection, of your own soul.  Sometimes it can simply be a physical release – I like nothing better than to put on some David Bowie or Led Zeppelin when I’ve had a trying day, and thrash it out in my living room when I get home. Other times I am expressing an emotion, such as love or peace.  It can also be a meditation, almost trancelike, shifting our consciousness to reach other states of being.

I love the movements and music of belly dance – there are so many different kinds of belly dance, from all over the world.  I love exploring all the different styles – in my workshops, I take a different style of gypsy belly dance and teach it.  Our last workshop was learning moves from the Rajasthani gypsy tribes – this month we are learning Turkish Roman moves and steps.  I find belly dance so expressive – it can be hard and edgy, with modern music such as Beats Antique, it can be soft and flowing, as with veil work, mysterious and moody with swordwork, cheeky and fun with cabaret – there’s a dance style to suit every mood!  I love expressive dancing – Flamenco with its passion is another favourite.

So, to answer your question – they are all great ways to be completely in the moment, to express your soul song – I suppose each is a language unto itself!

Nimue: Do you work with any druid groups at the moment?

Jo: I was a member of Clan Oghma for about a year, but had to give that up as I just couldn’t make the dates with my schedule. I was already a member of a group that I started up about five years earlier, Spirit Grove. It’s funny you should ask this question, as I have just left Spirit Grove as well now, to focus on a more solitary path.  I always find it difficult to achieve the deep spiritual experiences that I have in my own solitary practice when faced with group ritual. As well, I’ve moved out to the countryside, so I’m quite far away from both previous groups.  I really enjoyed working in a group – it’s a totally different dynamic, but now I’m called to walking a path in the quiet company of the heath where I live, the North Sea and the birch and pine woods of home.

I took both the OBOD bard and ovate courses, so I suppose I’m a member of OBOD. I’m also a member of The Druid Network, and also the Order of the Yew.

Nimue: And, where can people find you online? Or offline, for that matter…

Jo: At www.autumnsong.com, and I am also on The Druid Network. You can also find me on witchvox.com, and of course on facebook. I also have a blog at wordpress.com which is called  octopusdance.

Talk to the right people and anything magical, or spiritual becomes delusion. It’s proof of mental instability, an inability to cope, a lack of reason. At best you’re just silly. The faintest hint of magic can and will be used to by some to invalidate you, take away your voice, your right to autonomy, your ability to judge. I know that the police checked me out online about a year ago. I know my ex is out there just looking for dirt to throw. Who else is reading, waiting for me to say something that can be taken out of context? (You aren’t paranoid if they are out to get you!) Mostly I don’t talk much about magic, or religious experience, I keep to the rational, because it is a way of protecting myself from others.

However, the realms of dream and spirit are no less present in my life for not being talked about too much. I’m not sure why I’m blogging this today, perhaps a need to push away from the constraints of anxiety, to stand my ground and assert my own right to be.

I dream rich and wild. I always did as a child, and right through my teens. Then in my twenties, my dreaming narrowed to a handful of oft repeated anxiety dreams, reflecting a soul sickness I couldn’t admit to, much less tackle. Away from that which was poisoning me, I’ve started to dream again. The vibrancy has returned, along with wild variance of setting, narrative and content. I meet people in dreams who tell me things. I have experiences which resonate into my waking life. Partly this has happened because, in private, I have given myself permission to feel a much broader range of emotions, and to hope again. I’m not as fearful as I was.

In my sleep, I walk between worlds. I experience things, sometimes, that feel more real to me than my waking life. Most dreams are not that extraordinary, but they come, and with them a sense of being somewhere else.  A couple of nights back I lived for days on an otherworldly journey. I must have been through multiple cycles of dreaming, going back into the same narrative line. I think I’ve visited some of those places before, although not in a while. In my teens there was a city, and I went back to the same places there, although I haven’t seen them in a while.

So I’m starting to ask questions about the relationship between this waking life, and the dreaming one. They bleed into each other so frequently. If a dream affects what we do when awake, the dream has a reality in a rational sense. I’m still very tired from the journey dream of the weekend. That tiredness is undoubtedly real. But there are a lot of places you can’t show up dazed because you’re in the throes of a profound spiritual experience. Hung over, sure, half in the spirit world? Less easy to explain.

There are days when I wonder if the problem is that we spend too much time ‘here’ and not enough time in those dreaming places. I gather most adults don’t sleep enough, and that will eat into dream time. Those who run countries tend, from what anecdotal evidence I’ve encountered, to be even more sleep deprived than average. Maybe what our politicians need is a good dose of dream sleep, a chance to be in that other place, and to straighten out their sense of what real is. Too much reality, I suspect, really isn’t good for a person.

The government is saving money by cutting funding, cutting services, cutting money for the ill and unemployed. It’s not going after the unpaid tax of the superrich or tightening up the laws, its hitting the poorest people the hardest. But they’re Tories, it would have been naïve and optimistic to expect any different. What happens to people when there’s no work, no money, no opportunities, no hope? Some will no doubt get out there and do something radically positive. Many will lack the skills, energy and imagination, but will still want to be able to eat. As resources and opportunities become scarcer, crime, and disorder are almost bound to rise. Not just here, but in crisis stricken Europe, and further afield too. Desperation tends not to result in peaceful co-existence.

What will follow? Will those who have, respond with compassion to the desperate acts of those who have nothing? That seems unlikely. Will we see greater punishments for those who are guilty of the crime of being poor? A glance back at history says this is probable. Governments dislike poor people, treating them as at best an inconvenience, at worst, vermin. Does this kind of approach from on high breed peace and law abiding behaviour? Again, history says not. Angry people are more likely to become radical, revolutionary and potentially violent. And so it spirals into greater levels of violence between state and citizens. It would be easy to go there, and absolutely insane.

I make no secret of being a revolutionary. My idea of revolution has everything to do with radical cultural upheaval, the kind of revolution that takes place inside the mind of the individual. I’m very much opposed to violence, and for that matter, to theft. But who is stealing from whom here? As a big, affluent supermarket chain seems poised to get government sponsored slave labour, I think we have far bigger theft considerations before us. As the bankers who broke our economies continue to take millions in bonuses while payments to teachers, nurses and soldiers remain tiny in comparison, we ought to ask who, exactly, is behaving in a criminal way right now.

We won’t get change by rioting in the streets. All that achieves is the hurting and harming of people who were not to blame. We won’t get justice by throwing out a parliament and replacing it with another, we’ll likely get the same over kind of privileged people with the same assumptions and beliefs. And if the anger bubbling below the surface of so many countries now does erupt into violence, it will be ourselves we harm. History is full of violent uprisings that have lynched unpopular rulers, and so often all you get is a new set of corrupt and self serving monsters at the top. Rising up creates yet more evidence to tell the rich and powerful that poor people are basically nasty and dangerous, and should be restrained for their own good. In violence, we can only lose.

If we want justice, if we want a fair world, we are going to have to fight for it. Not fight in a violent sense, but fight with a willingness to take personal action, to speak out, to refuse to co-operate with corrupt and unjust systems. We have to stop doing what we’re told and start thinking for ourselves.

Last night my dreams were so wild, vivid and otherworldly that today I hardly know where I am. I’ve been reading about 17^th century radicals, which probably hasn’t helped. People of that age had a Christian framework to lean on, giving definition and shared language to new movements. We don’t have that language any more. I would say that culturally we have no dialogue about right, or good, or ethical, we have a system based on short term expediency and financial gain for the few. That has got to change. Next time you hear someone getting angry about the cost of migrant workers, or disabled people, or the unemployed, or single mothers, or any other manifestation of exploited poverty, ask who exactly, is being treated unfairly here. There but for the grace of (what?) go any of us, and most of us would hope for more compassion if we fell into difficulty. There’s not much I can do today that makes a difference, aside from a decision to be less angry about a theft, and more angry about a wider context that has anyone feeling it’s ok, or necessary to do that.

I don’t think nature perceives any great separation between it, and us. The things we build are just different kinds of habitat – some of them must look barren and challenging to a creature’s eyes, but useable none the less. To the falling seed there is no difference between a patch of mud in a gutter, and a patch of mud any other place. It’s what you’ve got and there’s little choice but to get on with it.

I get the impression a fair few humans do see a divide between the things that we have made, and nature. So we get irate about moles digging up the lawn, squirrels and bats getting into the loft, pigeons flying about inside our shiny shopping centres and so forth. We made it, so we imagine we ought to be able to control it. Nobody briefed the moles on this one, and the pigeons were all at lunch when the announcements were made…

A fox in a city is just as natural as a fox in a field. It does what it is in the nature of foxes to do, and even if that’s new, it’s still fox nature. Is a human in a city as natural as a human in a forest? We shouldn’t be any different, it should all be human nature. But there is a change, and it tends to happen inside our heads, were we also keep the great nature/civilisation divide. We think it matters where we are, and so we act differently. We feel differently about urban spaces.

I’ve never had a bunch of pagans suggest they wanted an urban ritual. Right in the middle of the shops, or at the crossroads, or the car park. I know of one pagan group only who did that kind of urban ritual. Most urban pagans use ‘nice’ spaces, stay indoors, or get out of the city. Granted, doing it in the middle of the street might attract unwelcome attention. But it also wouldn’t feel the same, and that’s a far more interesting consideration. We’ll travel for hours to get to sites made by our ancestors, but don’t feel so spiritual about the spaces knocked up by our contemporaries.

I’m no less a druid when I’m in a city. I’m no less spiritual, no less capable of undertaking a little private ritual. I’m no less aware of spirits of place, and the ground down there under the layers. And yet I have never done an urban ritual. The closest I’ve got were inside a museum, and in a garden in a built up area, but there were trees! Could I stand somewhere that was all tarmac, litter and decay, and do good druid ritual? I think the answer ought to be ‘yes’ and I also think the answer is probably ‘no’ and one of these days I’m going to give that some serious attention.

Relationship within druidry includes relationship with self. We can’t be in good relationship with the rest of the planet if we abuse, neglect and mistreat our own minds and bodies. Lack of care for self opens the way to illness and ongoing damage while care taken will work to minimize risk, and also helps us cope with anything we couldn’t dodge. I’ve been on the wrong side of this, unable to look after my own most basic needs and conscious of the wounding that caused. Good health, bodily, mentally and spiritually, depends on self care. In order to take care of the self, you have to think that’s worth doing, you need self esteem, self respect, a sense of usefulness, some reason to value your own condition.

Druidry is also very much about creativity and inspiration, and I think this is a huge wellbeing consideration too. There’s nothing like being trapped in a situation to push you towards distress and sickness. Inspiration is the tool for escape, for re-writing the rules, reinventing the job, the relationship, the lifestyle, so that wellness can follow.

In terms of mental health, community and a sense of belonging can make a lot of difference. Emotional support and recognition can keep a marginal person sane. Being heard helps to ward off depression. The work we do in ritual, hearing and supporting each other, holding circles of community, helps to keep us well, and upholds the self esteem essential for self-care.

There’s plenty of mainstream science that says being outside is good for you. A little walk relieves stress, and is good exercise. Time in green spaces is good for mental health. A little dancing, meditating, or drumming is good for the body as well. Many of the things that we do as part of our druidry, has beneficial effects in terms of health.

I think when we make healing into an event, focusing on the action of a few hours or days, we do ourselves a disservice. Wellness is not a thing to tag on as an afterthought. It’s not something to do once a week for half an hour. A good life has wellness at its heart. Granted, there are illnesses and setbacks that won’t be triumphed over just by application of regular druidry, but there is no ailment out there that isn’t alleviated to some degree by living well. So for me, druidry is less about healing work, more about not being so vulnerable to sickness in the first place. No amount of magical or new age healing work will save a person who will not change their life. I was unwell for years because my diet was wrong, I was sleep deprived, living with things that made me anxious, and things that caused me misery. No amount of healing intervention would have done more than paper over the cracks. Only a lifestyle change, and a recognition of the need to take myself seriously could get a healing process under way, and take me into a new phase of life where I am not continually being damaged.

I think the move to seek healing can be a way of starting that process, the recognition of problems, and the recognition of self as someone who merits being cared for. But ultimately, being well is a full time job, and the implications of going after it can be enormous.

That hunger for acceptance has had me jumping through hoops for as long as I can remember. I wasn’t the sort to drink myself to a stupor to try and fit, or any of that kind of trap. Possibly only because no one suggested to me that it would have helped. I learned to trade sexual favours for attention early on, and I learned to do what I was told, in all sorts of situations. As I got older, I found that voluntary work would get me tolerated some places. All someone had to do was hold up a hoop and suggest, that if I could manage a back-flip through it, they might put up with me, and I’d be there. Many hours of my time have been spent this way, to little effect.

I have come to the conclusion that those who hold hoops, are never going to be satisfied by how I jump through them. I have yet to find myself in a situation where the hoop jumping has paid off. It just sucks the life out of me until I crawl off somewhere else.

I’m also conscious that there are plenty of people who do not hold up hoops and stand round expectantly. People who value me for myself, not even necessarily based on what I do. People who do not require me to be useful, or suitably entertaining. People who have not ditched me when I’ve struggled. The holders of hoops tend to announce themselves, trumpeting their own importance, and how much you have to gain from their approval. The people who are worth having in your life are often quieter, asking for less, but accepting, and giving, a good deal more. Those quieter exchanges tend to be the more valuable ones.

Which leaves me wondering what kind of hoops I hold up for other people to jump through. What demands do I make? In terms of organising groups, it’s always been a willingness to be active. If a person turns up and looks interested, I’ll include them, but I don’t run round herding and hand holding. I’m not sure that’s a hoop, just a basic level of willing engagement. I expect honesty, I appreciate kindness and consideration, but I expect also that people with the best of intentions can and will make mistakes. I certainly don’t expect anyone to be perfect.

Holding up hoops to jump through, is, I think, about wanting to control the boundaries. It’s a way of establishing who is ‘in’ and who isn’t and it happens everywhere from playgrounds to adult social groupings. The position of hoopkeeper, doorkeeper, is a powerful one. One of the things about tribes is that to mean anything, they do need boundaries, a ‘them’ to pitch against the all important ‘us’. Conformity can be very much part of what defines the tribe. There’s also the issue that it is comfortable to have people reflect back our values and behaviours, and uncomfortable when they do not.  It’s an interesting question when considering how pagan tribes are formed and held. Looking back, there have been occasions when someone has seemed so unsuitable that I’ve not brought them in. I simply didn’t open the door.  I have never suggested to anyone that the door would open, if they do the right number of backflips first. There are ways of holding boundaries, I think, without hurting or humiliating those who, for whatever reasons, we do not accept in.

No more hoops, thank you. Next time I see one, I shall be walking away, I’m not going to play anymore. Want an exciting somersault through a flaming ring? Do it yourself.

http://www.druidry.org was one of the first website I found year ago when I started looking online for druid content. I remember it back then as being fairly simple, black and white, lots of text, and very informative.

This spring has seen a radical recreation of the site, with a beautiful new look and a lot of extra pages. It’s well worth going and poking about, for the variety of new articles and resources and the sheer pleasure of looking at it. It’s very useable, and offers a portal to a lot of other online druid content. My awareness of this has a lot to do with having been invited to contribute to the meditation pages – http://www.druidry.org/druid-way/teaching-and-practice/druidry-meditation

(Normally I’m going to use Druid News for things that are not about me, but… this is mostly about OBOD)

This revamp comes at an interesting time for OBOD, with the grades having been redesigned in recent years, and the rethinks about history brought by Ronald Hutton’s work. The new site reflects, I think, not only a growing community, but OBOD’s increasing involvement with the wider druid community. There’s a greater offering of resources to not just the membership, but anyone who drops by. It seems to me like a move towards being less insular, more accessible, and I’m interested to see where this new energy within the order takes things.

Share your news

If you want to get your news mentioned here, mail brynnethnimue (at) gmail (dot) com – short and sweet is good, by all means include links. Don’t send pictures, I have a hard time of it uploading anything big and complicated. I’m happy to include events, courses, book releases, new websites, new groups, things druids have been up to, or things you’ve spotted in the news that seem relevant to the druid community. Arty, crafty, musical or literary people with stuff to sell are welcome to present themselves if they can find a news angle. I’m not averse to personal news. No witchwars content, no conspiracy theories, no ‘I know a bloke who met this guy down the pub who said…’ tales. I’m looking for good news where possible. The mainstream does plenty enough of the miserable content already.

I’ve been fermenting an idea this week which seems relevant. Cat talks about money as being a way of exchanging energy – a productive notion, I think, that enables us to consider money in a spiritual context. What I want to explore today is the relationship between money, and fear.

Based on experiences to date, there are no problems that are not reliably exacerbated by poverty, while many problems can to some degree be alleviated by throwing money at them. Even if you can’t fix the underlying issue, being in comfort while you deal with it is a hell of a lot easier than if you don’t have a roof over your head. What can you not buy, with enough cash? The news is full of the kinds of breaks and advantages enjoyed by the super rich. Who wouldn’t look at those lifestyles, and the freedom great heaving loads of cash bestow, and want a piece of it? Who wouldn’t imagine that kind of life as being far preferable? Life is full of uncertainty, while money seems like the great insulator.

Of course the money itself doesn’t do anything, it’s the way in which you deploy it that gets results, which is where the money-as-energy concept comes in. Then there’s that interesting question of ethics, so important in druidry. With enough money, a person can buy an advantage over those who have less. Be that the better lawyer, the goodwill of a government, someone to walk in front of you with a big stick… or anything else. Somewhere out there is a line, a shift between what is fair and reasonable, and what is downright corrupt. How far can we fairly use money as energy and a means of getting things done to our advantage, and at what point does that become oppression, corruption and abuse? I don’t have an answer to that, but I think it needs asking, all the same.

What my druidry encourages me to think about money is this – that there is such a thing as sufficiency. Not an idea of wealth that can smooth every bump and grease every wheel, but enough. Beyond that, I feel a degree of duty to act in ways that are not just about me. Or at least, I envisage that with suitable degrees of security and resources, I would then start using what was left with an eye to others more than myself. Of course the measure of ‘enough’ will be mine, and will undoubtedly represent far more than many people in this world enjoy, but also far, far less than might constitute riches by a lot of standards. The trick will be, holding that notion in face of changing circumstances. Power, after all, corrupts, and what is money, if not power? Although I could also argue that poverty corrupts too, and desperation is just as likely to make us feel like relinquishing a belief or a moral stance, as excessive ease is.  You can’t eat the moral high ground, and it won’t keep you warm at night.

I suspect that there is no amount of money that cannot be taken from a person, and nothing that will reliably protect us from fear.

I’ve suggested to reality that it really ought to test me on this, and see if I can hold my good intentions in face of gratuitous success and wealth. That’s not going to happen this week, at a guess.