Devilish

I went downstairs earlier this afternoon to tell my father I got an interview tomorrow morning. Before I can even deliver the wonderful news he holds a hand up to my face and says something about how he doesn’t want to see it.

Wondering what “it” is? That would be my nose-ring. This had been a topic of contention between my parents and me ever since I got "it" over two years go. This is understandable for it is definitely considered deviant behavior. Outside of earlobe piercings, all other piercings are considered to be outside the normal realm of acceptable behavior in western culture. They deviate from our expectations of regular self-expression. Some piercings (nipple, genital, nasal sphincter, and gaging of any tip) are even considered grotesque for they mark an open/exposed orifice.

This is a surface examination of piercings. Anthropologist Lévi-Strauss points out that in cool/cold society’s (of which western culture is one) piercings and tattoos are consider to be individualistic and each mark’s meaning is different/up to the individual to create meaning. This means each individual has a different meaning for the mode and choice of self-expression. We don't have body modifications which no note things such as rank, social status, or placement within our socitey. Anyone can have a tattoo or ear piercing and there for these are not our indicators of social stratification. In a hot/warm society, various markings (tattoos/piercings) mean the same thing for everyone in the tribe. Each tattoo has a specific meaning and it is known throughout the enter culture.

Now that we have the basics down on body modifications and how it relates to society we can dive back into my story.

As soon as my father said he didn’t want to see it, I told him to stop and to get over his preconceived notions of what it means to have a nose-ring. That is when he said it was devilish.

Stop: Lets examine this for a moment.

Devilish, as in, relating to the devil. 

Let’s look at the depictions of the devil. Seeing how my father is a religious man, and studies the bible weekly, I will turn to the bible to look for details about what the devil looks like. Under the “Subjects Appendix” of the NIV there is no entry for “devil”. Under “Satan” there is many versus that say that Satan defies God’s power but nowhere is there an actual depiction of Satan. Nowhere does the bible say anything about Satan/the devil having any rings of any sort. The devil isn’t even said to have a nose. In fact there are no direct biblical description of the devil. The only glimpse we get at Satan's "physical form" would be his history as an angel/fallen angel; thus Satan looks like an angle.

Clearly my father was not using his vast knowledge of the bible to describe the piecing.

So where is he getting this relationship between a nose-ring and the devil? There is certainly a lot of historical depictions of the devil being grotesque and bestial, much of this coming from medieval art and iconography. The devil is often shown as possessing a goat head or goat feet or a forked tail or possessing any number of animalistic attributes. These images come from pre-Christian religions or spiritual traditions which often had very strong agricultural focus. The cycles of summer and winter dictated the flow of life and the livestock became the source of your very life, thus they were held with great reverence. Christianity comes in makes demons out of the old gods. Therefore you have the goat and the bull now have a connection with the devil/Satan.

Now let’s look at livestock outside of a medieval frame. They often had nose-rings (see I was getting around to this) in which they were led around the farm and tied to posts and such. They tilled the fields and provided nourishment through their deeds (and their bodies) to the community. They were bound to the earth and to the master. This is why I have a nose-ring. It is my tethering, my grounding in the earth. I have worked the field with my hands. I have used my body to bring food to the table for many people. It is my religion, in its original meaning, my re-connection.

While living in Lakeville (suburbia) and while it is winter it is hard to remain connected with the land. It is impossible to work the land when it is covered in the snow and ice. The nose-ring is a constant reminder that I have chosen to tie myself to the earth, to serve the community. I am not a beast of burden. I am not whipped by a master into working. I have chosen to place my will in the hands of the earth and she is bountiful. Many Christians do this with Jesus. There are many traditional prayers asking their will to be the will of God. I have done the same but to the earth. To flow with the cycles of the seasons; To be bountiful; to rest when necessary; To give birth to new generations and to take what is old and broken and bring it into a new time and place and form. The cycles and rhymes of nature are holy and sacred. They bring a wholeness to my life.

As such I have taken up the symbol of the nose-ring to connotation this message. In the cold society, as laid out by Lévi-Strauss, the messages piercings and tattoos have is often misinterpreted. People do not take the time to ask what does it mean? Instead these individuals are written off as deviant, as other, and as an outsider. In this time when we need to be looking at everybody, in all their parts, we need to look at the outsiders, those who do not have privilege, the unrepresented and listen to what they have to say.

Devil: relating to Satan, who in the Old Testament was called the Adversary.

Now I don’t necessary have a problem with this one. I don’t mind being an Adversary, especially if it is an opponent of the main-steam, hegemonic culture. The adversary calls out the powers-that-be and says Check yourself. You are wrong. Here are reasons why I see your actions as wrong and I will oppose them. If my nose-ring is a symbol of Satan and thus a sign of the adversary I wish to make myself a safe place where we can discuss prominent ideas and challenge them. If we strive for balance then we need to have an adversary to check ourselves against.

I do not see myself as the Satan, the devil, which is said to bring evil into the world, which is the one most often written about in the Bible. I do not spread the ideas which separate us from god. I do not spread sin. When I have been an advocate for greed? I do not condone violence. I will not shroud you in darkness. I can help lead you through the darkness and explore the compost rich dark night of your soul. I’ve gone down that road before. It is dark and lonely, confusing and often a place of great sadness, but we are not meant to dwell forever there. If anything, I claim to write about illumination: to bring light upon. I don’t claim to be a saint or a guru. I’m not filled with the pure light of god (show me someone who is) but I can say I’ve see, felt, been filled by and in the presence of the multifarious, ego shattering, wall dissolving, soul expanding  light of the divine. I see the divine everywhere: it comes in so many colors, shapes, and sizes. I do not take people away from divine. I would never equate my nose-ring or it’s symbolism with destruction and depression.

If my father wants to call my nose-ring devilish, then I ask him (and you dear reader) to use it as a term that relates to the earth-tiller, bringer of bounty, servant to the land and community.* Let’s call those who rail against the dominator society by pointing out its short coming, its hidden spots, those who it suppresses, devils. Let's reclaim the word. Let’s call them devils and adversaries and see them as necessary, valuable and need parts of our society. We might live on the edges of society on the fridges, but we can see into the hegemony. Let us honor every element of our culture and treat it all with care. Let us be shifting, changing and stalwart members of a loving, caring community. Care for those who are “grotesque”. Care for the adversary. They will protect you, from yourself.

*Editing note: I don't think we can "warm-up" our socitey. I don't believe that we can take our current body-modifications and attach meaning to them as warm socitey does. To live in a cool society means we need to ask each other what our body modifications mean. We need to see people who are covering in tattoos or piercings as people are convening a message and instead of seeing the surface, realize their is a history in that ink. There is a story behind her tattoo. Body modifications are intensly personal, even if they are in publicly visible places. It's our jobs are humans not to see each-other as outside but to inquire, with tact and sincerity.

The Ring: A Story of Memories and Loss

In the spirit of Christmas and Solstice I wish to share a story with you all. It is not a piece of fiction but is, in fact, very real and very believable and it starts with a ring.

Now, this ring was not gold nor was it forged from precious metals stolen from maidens or has it been owned by an evil king. This was a simple piece of surgical steel engraved with what one would call “tribal designs.” From which tribe this symbol made of curved and slicing lines belonged to, I have no idea. I do not actually believe the design to have had any connection to any indigenous belief systems. Think tattooed arm band from the 90’s and you’ve just about got it.

Now my father purchased this ring in a gift shop somewhere in the Washington peninsula. I saw it, thought it was cool (I was sixteen at the time) and the ring being 10 dollars he bought it for me. It was very nice of him and I was very gracious. I had never had a ring before and I thought it was great. 

Little did any of us know, this ring would be gone from my life in less than a day.

Not twenty-four hours after the purchasing of said ring, it had found its way to the bottom of a glacial lake. The story goes like this.

Scene: Family of four, white, middle-class, stops along a scenic road to view a glacial lake.
Parents are in their mid-forties. Children are teenagers and are throwing rocks the size of bread loaves into the lake.

Mother: Stop throwing rocks.

Teenage boy: One more.

Mother: No.

Teenage boy throws one more rock. The ring he is wearing comes off and is lost in the lake. The water is only two feet deep until roughly 3 meters into the lake where the elevation plummets to a depth so far down it is terrifying to stand that close!

Thus the ring was lost to all time.

End Scene.

That December my sister finds an identical ring online and gifts it to me for Christmas. The ring was worn and loved and periodically lost many times over the next decade. Once it spent the whole of a winter under my friend’s deck. We were hot tubing and it fell off the chair where I had placed my clothes and was not recovered until the snow melted and her parents found it.

Now comes August 2012. I went to Madeline Island, WI for my friend’s birthday (different friend than the one mentioned above but no less lovely and wonderful). We were camping near a beach and when a few of us decided to go skinning dipping at night I took my ring off. Long story short, when the cop told us to put our clothes back on, the ring was temporary forgotten and thus lost to the sand and surf.

Side note: Lake Superior and I have a touchy relationship. I love that lake so much. It is beautiful, calming, and so much fun; and yet once every few years or so it takes something very important to me. My freshmen year of college I went down for a moonlight swim and forgot to take off my glasses. After diving under and resurfacing blind, I knew they were gone forever. I try to be cautious around the lake but mama has her ways and takes what she will.  

The lake has her ways and I had a feeling I would be paying for the weekend in one way or another. A sacrifice was made and that weekend will live forever in the minds and hearts of all those who were there. It was a very special vacation and carries the nine of us through the years to this day. I just celebrated the winter solstice with them for the first time and it was just as lovely and wonderful as that time on Madeline Island.

I’ve been ring-less for a few months now. At first it was really weird not wearing anything on my left thumb. It’s surprising how accustom we become to the clothes we wear or the jewelry we put on every day. I really did/do miss that ring. You can see there was some real history wrapped around it. I really wanted to keep it for a long time. Nothing like a heirloom but something to have and hold for a good portion of my life.

My parents got me two rings this Christmas. They’re like the other one in that they are both made of steel, nothing fancy. No “tribal” designs this time. They are nice and I wear them both, one on my left thumb and the other on my right index. The new rings still feel odd on my hands but in time I’ll get use to them. I don’t really have a good story for them. Never the less, in time I will have written and told tales that include them too.

Perhaps I should name them?

Prayers for Newtown and Thoughts for The Future

For the victims and the community members of Newtown, Connecticut this is a very dark time. As you know twenty children and seven adults were murdered in the elementary school on last Friday. I wish to extend my deepest compassion and greave with you in the days and night ahead. I know what it like to lose a family member long before you expect them to pass on. To lose a child must be one of the worst experiences. There will be days when it will not make sense when sun rises. It will confuse you when others go about their lives as if nothing has changed and there is a giant space left in the wake this event. I can only wish you comfort, support, and solace in the days, months, years, a head.

For those of us with children, please hug them extra hard in this time of grieving. When you see loved ones for Chanukah, Solstice, Christmas, Kwanzaa, or whatever winter time holy day you celebrate, hold them tight and thank your stars they are still here in your life.

One of the reasons why this has captivated the nation as deeply as it has is because it involves children. These were innocent children in kindergarten. Children are blessings. They are our future. I have advocated many times for every child to be a wanted child. I have also adopted the belief that children are special for their innocence, for their gifts of creativity, inclusiveness, empathy; their way of making the illogical seem sensible and hilarious. So to see these children gunned down in a place where they are meant to learn and grow; in a safe space where they are told to play and learn at the same time, is so horrendous it is surly an unquantifiable loss.  

To place this in a bit of prospective I’ve recently seen the statistic that the city of Chicago “had 488 homicides this year…The Iraq war alone has a conservative estimate of civilian deaths at 105,052 from March 2003 to 2012.” That last one would mean that roughly 31 people are killed every day in Iraq. How much is coverage of these deaths is the press giving to these murders, these acts of violence? Can we say really say these deaths are culturally sanctioned because it is a war, like that makes it okay, verse the deaths of these children right here on our door step?

These are big questions and I don’t know if there are answers to them (but that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t try to find some solutions).

As tragic events are want to do this has sparked controversy. The battle over gun control verse personal freedoms is now well on its way. Like same-sex marriage and abortion we all know what the facts are, what the opinions are, and what lies in a moral/ethical gray area. For each individual this gray area is going to look a little different (if it not black or white for someone). Like all controversies, the way to getting to moving beyond the dualism is not by rehashing the same arguments but by finding the systemic roots. I think for gun-control it is not talking about regulations (because of freedom issues) but rather about helping those who have mental illnesses. I believe Hanna Hart (My Drunk Kitchen) says it best on her secondary channel yourharto.

In the cases of mass shootings we need to talk about the issues surrounding the events. In this case access to mental health care for the mentally ill is a key topic. We need to talk about being a bully, what that looks like and how that effects our peers, and accepting and loving people for who they are. We need to encourage and support these individuals to seek counseling and to feel free to talk about what is troubling them, free of judgment.  We need to be creating a culture where it is okay to be different. We need a culture that does not shame the mentally ill or the depressed. I think children, specifically small children, say kindergarteners, can help us adults learn how to be more empathic towards others. This, I believe, can make a huge impact in the amount of violence, specifically physical violence, which is acted out in our society. This will greatly decrease the number of mass shootings.

I do think some of our laws in our country are inherently wrong. I don’t understand why we are free to purchase weapons but not raw milk. I why is it legal for me in Lakeville, MN (a suburb of MLPS/St. Paul) to own several guns but not several chickens? I come from a family of hunters and therefor have many family members who own a number of hunting rifles. This is how they acquire food for their family. This is sustainable and wonderful. Why can I not own a small flock of chickens? Why can I buy tobacco or alcohol but not marijuana? I can eat myself into diabetes, obesity, and oblivion by eating nothing but fast food and potato chips but it is next to impossible to feed myself and my family with local/organic foods. I think we have many freedoms in this country and for that I am glad but the access and ability to nourish ourselves is severely limited to those who have upper-class privilege.

Do we really want a culture where it is easier to destroy ourselves than to nourish, restore, and support each other?

These are questions I think we really need to be asking ourselves, each other, and those who make our laws. I really hope this tragedy will help open our eyes as a nation to how much damage this illusion of autonomy (which is the idea that we are separate from everything i.e. the environment, our food system, our political system, our neighbors) is doing. When we don’t see how much pain and hurting the people in our communities are in, these are the kinds of events that transpire. When we think we are not involved in the lives of other we don’t notice the next door neighbor who is struggling with depression and mental illness. We also don’t notice the family struggling to make ends meet. We don’t see the number of fish in our rivers and lakes are diminishing because of the industrial agriculture chemicals and roadside run off. There are just a few examples but you see what I mean. 

 

I know we can’t go around making sure everybody is okay all the time (I would never ask that of anyone) but we can be more compassionate towards one another for sure. This means not being a judgmental ass-hole or telling someone to just “get over it”. Sometimes people have real problems and telling them to pick themselves up and move on is not the right response and actually worsens their psychological condition on a biological level. I believe we do need to get thicker skins but also we need to be more compassionate. It’s a two way street that leads to greater empowerment and stronger communities.

Now is the time to be with our loved ones. It is almost the winter solstice and I can’t wait to celebrate it with dear friends. I love spending Christmas with my family and will miss my sister while she is in Tulsa, OK. I will see friends on New Year’s and ring in 2013 with hopes and intentions for a brighter more peaceful future.

Mary Watches

I have a jar candle on my desk. Generally it is just plain yellow or green or blue. I buy them at dollar stores or grocery stores or the occasional occult shop; though the later tend to be spend-y and covered in glyphs or sigils that I don’t need. That’s not to say I couldn’t use some extra creatively or motivation around here. I light the candle whenever I’m at my desk, which is most the day when I’m not working at Jimmy John’s. This means I go through about one candle every two weeks; at roughly $2.50 each that’s not a bad deal to have a warm glow illuminate my workspace.

This time the candle is not plain but is decorated with the image of the Vigen de Guadalupe. I saw her at the grocery store next to Our Lady of San Juan (which looks like a woman’s head with wearing a really fancy crown atop a big blue bell with) and the Sacred Heart of Jesus. I like Mary even though there is a ton of controversy over all her symbolism and what it means for women (in specific to their sexuality). All of that aside I feel a sort of affinity towards her. So I bought the candle not thinking much about it and she sat unlit on a shelf in my room for a few weeks till the candle on my desk ran out.

(I'm aware that The Vigen de Guadalupe is not The Virgin Mary but they are analogues. In my experiences they been used interchangeably but do have very distinct background, histories, come from different culture, stories are different, etc. If you know more about how they are alike and how they are different, leave a comment below or send me an e-mail.)

Mary has been watching me write my first novel, balance my check book, write these blog posts, surf the net, and play a little WoW. She has also seen me write out my student loan checks. Having only the part time job at Jimmy John’s I currently only have $45 at the end of the month after paying the student loan debt.

I came to this realization yesterday and I would be lying if it didn’t upset me quite a bit. I actually became angry at how we, as a society, tell our youths to go to college and how we have a system that makes our 20-somthings into indentured servants to the banks. I’ll save you the whole two hours internal diatribe and get to the point. By the time I had fumed over my lack of financial freedom I had tumbled into a really dark place. Sitting at the computer looking for answers and a way to bring myself out of a really scary, intense place, I saw Mary’s face illumined by the candle light.

I’m not going to say I felt better automatically but I felt as though she had some compassion she wanted to bring to the world (it wasn’t just me). It wasn’t some divine revelation. There was no exact moment when I felt magically all better about my situation and that the world loved me once again. There was no conversation to Catholicism or anything so extreme. I didn’t fall to my knees and cry or feel shriven. There was just a calmness that and I felt this figure’s message was only bring compassion into the world. I can’t say it was a tangible or tactile feeling. It was gentle and subtle. It was kind and soothed the pains I had inside and made my thoughts of doing terrible things seem like nonviable options.

I don’t want this to come off as an attempt at converting others cause let’s be honest; that’s not what I’m about. If you are Catholic I would love to hear about your experiences, knowledge, and relationship to Mary and what she means to you. If you are non-religious, what are your thoughts on Mary? If pagan/goddess centered what do you think of Mary? Leave your comments below or send me an e-mail.

I’m happy she sits on my desk, watching over me; over the world, and in some small way that is partly psychological, some part mystical, wants nothing more than to bring compassion into my life/into the world.

Metis Is Spared

Metis, the goddess of wisdom and cunning skills, sits on the edge of the Aegean Sea and whittles away at drift wood; her knife a razor clam shell. She carves all the creatures of the sea: turtles, dolphins, crabs, and seahorses. Little figurines pile up beside her as the waves come in and recede; turning the gray stone black: sunfish and starfish and eels like thick strands of kelp. The little shavings tumble at her feet and collect in the tide pools like apple blossoms. Her carvings keep her company. They do not become the real fish of the sea but sit beside her; gently watching the tides rise. She does not enchant them to grow scales and webbed fins. The crabs are not brown and red but stay remain cool and colorless; if anything, they bleach in sunlight. They become white like marble , like the tops of waves.

She is not bothered by anyone on this lone island. It is just the figurines with their pearly eyes and herself. No one wants schematics to thunderbolts or weapons of mass extinction.  She hears nothing but the content motion of sea spray against rock. She has hidden herself away and no one can find her.

And yet here comes Hecate in a boat of silver and stars. She has been given dominion over the sky, land, and sea and she knows where Metis is. The sun casts its rays upon the water and they shatter it into a thousand pieces of glass. Hecate sails through the sea black and white gold silently as a specter, as a wraith.  

“Dear Sister,” Metis says as she cuts into a crab’s basswood back.

“I come baring news of the war,” Hecate replies and steps from her gilded boat and onto the black rocks flecked with algae like moss.  

“Is it over? What has happened?” Metis stands to greet her sister with arms wide as the gray horizon.

“It is and we have lost,” Hecate says and Metis knows she will stay on this island from now onto forever, “He has spared a number of us from the world below the underground. You may stay here on these islands and that is better than the abyss and darkness of Tartius.”

They both breathe sighs of relief. The war is over and they have been spared. The world has shifted, reformed, levels upon levels; a hierarchy made of unmatchable force.

“I have been given all things her on earth,” Hecate says as she slips back into her boat, “and I will tell our daughters our story. Persephone will listen. Artemis is strong. We have not lost everything. There is still hope.”

She watches her sister disappear over the waves; a shadow in the light of day. She wants to feel for the mighty Cronus, the many headed, thousand armed Hecatonchires, and the all-seeing Cyclopes but she cannot. She has been saved from eternal damnation and she will use her time sagely; just like she has always done.

She reaches into the ocean and draws up another piece of sun-whitened wood. She beings lathing away at its already smooth skin. Under her hands and the edge of that amber colored clam shell she forms the body of Typhon: the great and terrible beast that sleeps beneath the waves of that primordial sea.