Naturalistic Paganism

Working ritual with the Center, part 2

Alchemist's Showroom, by H. Kopp-Delaney

Ritual acts, apparently pointless, activate unconscious mental processes to effect a change in consciousness.

– by B. T. Newberg

This is the second of a 2-part series exploring a new technique for creating special time and space.  Part 1 introduced the Center.  Now, this part details the technique and its basis in psychology.

How do you work ritual with the Center?

Star trails at Point of Rocks, by Howard's Astronomical Adventures The basic technique is to choose an appropriate focal point, mark it as the Center, and mindfully circumambulate it three times.  This may be supported with appropriate gestures, phrases, and/or hymns (see Samhain ritual script for an example).

While the technique is simple, a lot is built into it.

1.  Appropriateness

The choice of focal point should be appropriate, and this is twofold.

First, it means that it should be a real center of actual activity, which requires that participants think about the local ecosystem.  In what sense is the focal point a center?  Is it a tree around which diverse creatures gather, a well from which a community derives sustenance, or the pole star around which our earthbound perspective turns?

At the same time, appropriateness also means it should fit the intentions of the ritual.  This requires that participants link their intentions to the center.  For example, a ritual of new beginnings may circle round the starting point of a path, or a ritual of death round a field of crops recently cut-down.

When planning a ritual, you may spend hours, days, or even weeks getting to know the local area and finding the perfect spot.  Thinking about the land in this way will ground you in it, get your inspiration flowing, and make the ritual more concrete and meaningful.  Moreover, it will begin to shift the ordinary perspective of objects and interests toward a holistic perspective of relationships and symbols.

2.  Marking

When the ritual is about to begin, the chosen focal point is marked as the Center.  A rope may be girded round a tree, a stone set up in a field, a chalk sigil drawn upon the paved path, and so forth.  This may be elaborate or spartan, but whatever the marking, it should not eclipse but rather complement the native beauty of the Center.

This serves both practical and symbolic functions.  Practically, it makes it clear to all participants exactly where the Center is.  Symbolically, it acknowledges your relationship with it, by contributing something of yourself to it.  This meeting of self and other further establishes the bond begun by carefully considering the most appropriate location.

3.  Mindful circumambulation

Circumambulation means moving round the Center.  Whether this is done in a solemn procession or a musical dance is up to you.  Either way it should be done mindfully, three times.  At the end of the ritual, circumambulate once in the opposite direction to signal your mind to return to normal time and space.

Within the imagination, allow this center to become the Center, symbolic of every center in your life, and indeed every center in the cosmos.  Allow it to become a locus of inexhaustible interpretation, a source from which inspiration flows as patterns and relationships suggest themselves to you.

Allow any errant thoughts to pass by unheeded, bringing concentration gently back to the Center.

This may be supported with the use of ritual phrases calling to mind specific relationships while you circumambulate.  For example, the Samhain ritual script invokes three relationships of naturalistic transcendence.  The first time round, participants raise one arm to the Center and say:

This is the Center, around which all revolves.

It does not revolve around me, I revolve around it.

As I pass round, I affirm my place within the mind.

On the second time round, the phrase is repeated, affirming “my place within the community”, and finally, the third time round, “my place within the cosmos.”

Traditionally, Neopagans walk deosil (clockwise) when creating sacred space.  This mimics the motion of the sun as seen from an earthbound perspective in the Northern Hemisphere, where the sun traverses the southern sky.  When dissolving the space, they walk widdershins (counter-clockwise), which might be taken to represent a new perspective gained during the ritual.

How does the Center work with psychology?

Bokeh Spiral, by Eric WüstenhagenRepetitive symbolic acts such as these may appear pointless and empty at first glance to some.  However, recent research is unveiling how and why ritual appeals to the brain, such that it is found universally across cultures, in both religious and secular contexts.  As the following explains, working with the Center takes advantage of embodied cognition, Pavlovian association, and cognitive psychology to effect a change in consciousness.

On the most primitive level, circumambulation creates what historian William McNeill calls “muscular bonding” between the participants – moving together in time.  Synchronous movement creates the sense of a group superorganism, and begins the submergence of the individual ego within a larger identity.  Through such embodied cognition, the movement of the body shapes consciousness.

On a Pavlovian level, the triple repetition is significant.  Three is a number denoting completeness in Western culture, as well as diversity (triplicity as opposed to unicity). These cultural associations, drilled into us since childhood, constellate a desired mindstate by Pavlovian association.

Finally, on a cognitive level, mindfulness monopolizes or “swamps” working memory, leaving no room for mundane or intrusive thoughts, resulting in a slightly altered state of concentration.

Further, the fact that the procedure appears pointless, at least to the uninformed observer, and redundant, circling three times instead of one, is also significant.  Lienard and Boyer propose that observing apparently unnecessary steps signals unapparent danger to the unconscious mind, inferring perhaps that the rationale for the steps must be some potential threat known to others but not to oneself.

This activates a mental module they call the “hazard-precaution system,” which likely evolved to avoid poorly understood but lethal dangers, such as pathogens and parasites.  Following a custom of ritually avoiding corpses or washing after touching blood, for example, has its evolutionary advantages, even if unaware of the real reason why these actions must be performed.

What we’re interested in here is not why the hazard-precaution system evolved, but how we can put it to work for us.  Its activation arouses a special attentional state, producing a slightly altered state of consciousness.  It directs attention away from goals and toward the specific steps of the ritual, which are typically actions so automatized they become dead to awareness, such as walking.  The extra attention paid to walking in a circle three times revives the act, makes it fresh again, and thus encourages a sense of vividness and being “in the moment.”  Ritual cues, such as apparently unnecessary steps, can unconsciously trigger activation.  The resulting state of heightened awareness may significantly facilitate the emotional power and inspirational meaning of a ritual.

It is important to note that this system is unconscious and intuitive, part of what Daniel Kahneman calls System 1 thinking.  There is also System 2: conscious, deliberative thought, the effect of which is often to inhibit intuitive processes.  In this case, for example, a critical thought might question the rational necessity of circling three times, thereby inhibiting activation of the hazard-precaution system and forestalling the desired change in consciousness.  The question has merit, but gets in the way in the moment.  That’s why ritualists often recommend setting aside skepticism for the duration of the ritual.  Critical questions can and should be entertained before and after, but not during.  It’s not to quell criticism, but to allow intuitive systems to function effectively.

If all goes well, the technique should produce what theological language calls a sense of the “sacred.”

Toward naturalistic ritual

Hoag's Object, by Billy and LynnWorking ritual with the the Center can be used as a viable, scientifically-supported method of creating special time and space.  It’s home-grown from a naturalistic perspective, yet open enough to invite non-naturalist participation without making any feel excluded. It’s also untied to any specific cultural tradition, so that Spiritual Naturalists of all stripes may find it useful.

This technique is still very much in the experimental stage, so please offer your comments and constructive criticisms.

Working ritual with the Center, part 1

Universe in a magic drop, by H. Kopp-Delaney

Centers unite all around a shared focus.

– by B. T. Newberg

This is the first in a 2-part series exploring a new technique for creating special time and space.  This part introduces the key symbol, the Center.

Last Samhain’s ritual script experimented with a new technique for creating special time and space (i.e. sacred space): working with the Center.  In short, participants circumambulate a chosen focal point.  Sounds simple enough, right?

Now, let’s explore that a little deeper.  Why create special time and space?  Why propose new techniques?  What is the Center?

Why create special time and space?

Spiral Galaxy, by JSome1The ultimate goal of ritual is to reaffirm or change patterns of perception and behavior.  Creating a sense of special time and space is useful to that end.

Whatever the nature of time and space in an absolute sense, our experience of it is malleable.  Time can seem longer or shorter, space can seem larger or more vital, and both can acquire a sense of heightened significance, depending on our state of consciousness.  Time and space can at times appear special.

At those times, routinized behavior patterns are disrupted as the unconscious mind reevaluates the situation.  They are thus prime times for inputting new information into the system.  In short, the function of achieving a sense of special time and space is to signal to the unconscious mind that what is about to occur is significant, so that it privileges it henceforth in memory and behavioral decision-making.

To put this in theological language, it is to create space that is sacred, meaning “set apart.”  Ritual time and space is set apart as special and significant.

Why a new technique?

Spiraling, by Amy PalkoBut wait… what’s the point of experimenting with new methods to do this?  Aren’t we re-inventing the wheel?

There are already several well-developed techniques for creating sacred space in the Pagan community, such as casting a circle or opening the gates.  They usually speak in some way of moving between “the worlds”, and naturalists can easily read this as moving between states of consciousness.  Becoming familiar with these techniques is valuable for naturalists because it allows us to take part in rituals of various traditions, side-by-side with other Pagans in the larger community.  And if it works for you, then hey, why not use it?

At the same time, these techniques may leave something to be desired.  Their theoretical backings are highly metaphysical.  For example, the purpose of a circle is purportedly to keep hostile energies out or desired energies in.  Opening the Gates (a technique of ADF and its offshoots) is meant to enhance communication with deities, spirits, and ancestors.

While such theory need not intrude on practice, it leaves me wondering what it would be like to experiment with an entirely naturalistic technique, home-grown and inspired by patterns in nature.  Hence, I present: the Center.

What is a center?

3S0578, by Billy and LynnWherever you look, centers (small “c”) pervade nature.  There are literal centers, such as the atomic nucleus circled by its electrons or the star by its planets.  There are also figurative centers, like the watering hole encompassed by herds or the giant redwood by a mini-ecosystem of life.  At the most domestic, there is the hearthfire of the home.  At the most cosmic, there is the omnicentric origin point of the Big Bang (which is everywhere).  Centers are all around.

Crucially, a center only exists relative to what gathers round it.  Apart from that, it is meaningless.  Centers are inherently relational.

Thus, the distinguishing characteristic of a center is that it is a center of something.  It unites that something around a shared focus.  It is the nexus, source, or heart of a community.  And that is what makes it interesting as a pattern for ritual.

What is the Center?

"Grand Design" Spiral Galaxy M81, by Chris ChristnerThe Center (big “C”) is liturgical language for a real and symbolic focus of ritual activity.  It is real insofar as it really is what all participants are focused around, symbolic insofar as it reproduces greater patterns of nature.  Its role in ritual is to alter consciousness, calling forth the individual ego’s relation to the group and the cosmos.

Like all good liturgical language, the Center is suggestive more than indicative, evocative more than precise, so that each person can discover themselves in it.  Virtually anything can be discovered to be a center if you look closely enough, and that is the point: it’s everywhere, but it takes a shift in perspective to see it.

This essay continues tomorrow with Part 2, which details how to work ritual with the Center, and its basis in psychology.

Upcoming work

This Sunday

B. T. Newberg

A new technique for creating sacred space…

Working ritual with the Center, by B. T. Newberg

Part 1 appearing Sunday, November 25th, 2012

Part 2 appearing Monday, November 25th, 2012

Thing on Thursday

Althing in Session, by W.G. CollingwoodThis week, Thing on Thursday asks:

Which mythic pantheon resonates with you most?

Next Sunday

Erik Oakenshield

What are ley lines, and how might they interest naturalists?

The greater significance of ley lines, by Erik Oakenshield

Appearing Sunday, December 2nd, 2012

Recent Work

How should we behave toward the stories of myth? / Come comportarsi con i racconti del mito?  by Hilaria

The big White splotch, by B. T. Newberg

A naturalistic ritual for the ancestors – Samhain, by B. T. Newberg

Get our ebooks

B. T. Newberg ebooks

With which label do you identify most?

2012 Thing on Thursday #9

After numerous polls on liturgy, we now begin a series returning to fundamental concepts and questions.  This week, let’s revisit debates about what to call ourselves.

This issue is complicated.  Much ink has been spilled over labels in the Pagan community, especially in recent years.  There are problems with every label, and it may be tempting to forgo labels altogether.  Yet without them, it’s awful hard to find each other.

There’s also a difference between what feels right in the privacy of your own heart, and what works best in the public sphere.  The ideal label fulfills both conditions, but it rarely works out so neatly.

Difficulties surrounding each label are detailed after the poll.

Complications notwithstanding, please choose the one that calls to you most.

Naturalistic Pagan.  This seems to be the most widely-used currently, and it links up nicely with larger umbrella movements like Spiritual/Religious Naturalism.  Unfortunately, the definition relies on a natural/supernatural distinction, which works fine in the Abrahamic sphere but runs into problems in the Pagan sphere.  Pagans generally view their deities and magic as part of nature, so aren’t they naturalistic by default?  This seems to necessitate the stipulation of adherence to scientific evidence to distinguish between our community and other kinds of Pagans.  Does this mean we should start calling ourselves “Scientific Naturalistic Pagans?”  You see my point.

Humanistic Pagan.  This is, of course, the name of this site, but it doesn’t mean we’re stuck with that label.  Humanism connotes an emphasis on human concerns as opposed to divine ones, which is accurate.  It also draws a nice analogy to traditions such as Humanistic Judaism, Humanistic Buddhism, and Christian Humanism.  There are two problems, however.  First, there are forms of Religious Humanism that still believe in supernatural deities, even though the emphasis is on the human, so there remains the problem of distinguishing our community from other kinds of Pagans.  Second, the very word “human” connotes to some an exclusion of nature.  Modern Humanism is very green, but it seems the word alone is enough to mislead.

Atheist Pagan.  This is what we often end up getting called by others, regardless of how we choose to identify.  There are numerous problems, though.  First, not all of us are actually atheists.  Second, some Pagans are atheists (no belief in deity) while still believing in magic, energies, crystals, and other unverified notions which our community tends to reject.  Third, atheism only describes what we deny, not what we do believe.  Fourth, atheism is often taken to mean “no gods at all”, when in fact many of us work with deities as metaphors, archetypes, cultural entities, and so forth.  Finally, atheism has always been a term of denigration.  Can we reclaim it?  It would be a hard row to hoe.

Agnostic Pagan.  Agnostic is less negative than Atheist, and more accurate in some cases.  However, it connotes wishy-washiness to many.  More importantly, there is no specification as to what one is agnostic about.  Some Pagans call themselves agnostic because they don’t know the nature of deity, even though they claim to know firmly that deities exist.  Furthermore, some take an agnostic stance to insulate their claims from criticism, but otherwise behave like adamant believers (Tanya Lurhmann calls this “convenient ambiguity”).

Spiritual Naturalist.  This is a larger umbrella term that generally includes our community, among others.  Identifying by it loses specificity, with no reference to any kind of cultural tradition.  It also suffers all the problems of “Naturalistic” (see above).  In addition, some object to the notion of “spirit”, apparently unable to read it as referring to anything other than a metaphysical soul-like force.

Religious Naturalist.  Slightly more popular than its counterpart, “Spiritual Naturalism”, this one avoids issues with the word “spirit”, but at the cost of objections to the word “religion”, which connotes undesirable institutionalism and hierarchy to some.  It also suffers most of the same issues as its counterpart.

Secular Pagan.  “Secular” can be read either as “not religious”, which may be accurate to some but not to others, depending on how you define religion, or it may be defined as “of our times”, following Stephen Batchelor‘s Secular Buddhism.  With regard to the latter, it would be difficult to claim that other kinds of Pagans are not of our times.  A good argument could be made that Neopaganism is a result of modernization, not a retreat from it.

Cultural Pagan.  This may describe someone who considers deities and magic cultural phenomena, in which case it would leave out those who see them as innate psychological phenomena, such as archetypes.  Or, it may describe someone who follows the Wheel of the Year as a cultural phenomenon, like non-Christians celebrating Christmas, which can suggest a certain superficiality.

Existential Pagan.  This describes well the earthy, this-worldly ways of someone like Brendan Myers, but it can be mistaken for the theism of existentialists like Kierkegaard, who advocated radical faith in God even though it can’t be verified.  It might also describe many different kinds of Pagans, far beyond our community.

Scientific Pagan.  I don’t know if I’ve ever heard anyone use this label before, but it would at least underline the emphasis on scientific evidence which many of us highly value.  The problem is, it may sound a bit cold (due to an unfair but common mis-characterization of science).  Further, many Pagans say they embrace science, and even hold out hope that magic is really an undiscovered science that will one day be vindicated by quantum physics or some such thing. Finally, when I put myself in the shoes of an outsider, the label elicits a certain skepticism in me.  It makes me wonder if this so-called “science” will turn out to be something like Christian Science or Intelligent Design.  Hmm…

UPDATE:

Naturalistic Pantheist (added thanks to a comment by RadicalProgress).  This label shifts the focus to pantheism, the view that the universe is identical with divinity, and “naturalistic” specifies the nature of that universe/divinity as non-supernatural.  There are many such pantheists today, the largest organization of which is the World Pantheist Movement (WPM).  The label shares the lack of cultural specificity of Religious/Spiritual Naturalism, no longer attached to Paganism in particular.  It also shares the difficulties surrounding the term “naturalistic.”  Finally, most in the WPM have proven largely uninterested in myth or ritual, though not necessarily hostile to it.  While this difficulty is not inherent in the term, it has been a stumbling block that has led many from the WPM to the Naturalistic Paganism yahoo group.  Reportedly the Universal Pantheist Society has been a bit more conducive.

Please share alternative labels and thoughts in the comments.

About Thing on Thursday

Althing in Session, by W.G. CollingwoodThis post is part of a series of councils on matters vital to the future.  The name represents both the generic term for, you know, a thingie, as well as the Old Norse term for a council of elders: a Thing.

Each week from the Autumn Equinox until the Winter Solstice, Thing on Thursday explores a new controversy.  Participation is open to all – the more minds that come together, the better.  Those who have been vocal in the comments are as welcome as those quiet-but-devoted readers who have yet to venture a word.  We value all constructive opinions.

There are only a few rules:

  • be constructive – this is a council, so treat it as such
  • be respectful – no rants or flames

Comments will be taken into consideration as we determine the new direction of Humanistic Paganism.

So please make your voice heard in the comments!

How should we behave towards the stories of myth? / Come comportarsi con i racconti del mito? by Hilaria

Pythagoreans' Hymn to the Rising Sun, by Fedor Andreevich Bronnikov

“The power of sacrificium (in Latin it means “to make sacred”) lies within us.”

Ancient Hellenic Pagans didn’t acknowledge conflict between science and religion.*

Yet we are quite familiar with their old myths: Homer and Hesiod have left us an immortal poetic heritage, full of  woo and unlikelihoods, where the Gods are more hysterical and petty than a spoiled child. Why were the Greeks worshipping terrible Gods like these? They were supposed to be smart people! At first I could not understand but then (perhaps… I hope so!) I realized my mistake:

I WAS STILL THINKING AS A CHRISTIAN.

I had to forget the idea of a historically founded religion, when Random Guy in flesh and blood starts his own religion and declares the rules, and I also had to forget the idea of a holy book contaning the Word of God in saecula saeculorum amen, with gruesome punishments for heretics who choose other paths. These things did not exist in Greek Paganism. They came… later.

Religions evolve

Let’s be aware that every form of Paganism was not fixed forever and ever, nor did it have dogmas. It was, and still is, a spirituality on the go; it is a stratified reality that (let’s write it in capital letters) CHANGES through times. The mythology of Minoan Crete was not and couldn’t be exactly the same as that of Aristophanes’s Athens… nor was the Rome ruled by Ancus Marcius religiously identical to emperor Claudius’s Rome.

It is no good to crystallize a religion.  Religion, like every other human product, is meant to evolve because we, as humans, are biologically prone to evolution.

The crystallization of cults and myths is a sick lesson we learned from monotheisms: it’s a consequence coming from the prefix “mono”… one time, once and for all, mythology has been strictly set and you must be satisfied with that. Period.

Science and myth, then and now

In Greece, science was never a threat to repress. I’m thinking about Pythagoras’ followers who were devoted mystics and excellent mathematicians at the same time; I must recall the amazing history of Platonic schools which lasted (and changed during the centuries) for more than a millennium: these philosophers, aided by their myths, wanted to grab the ultimate truth of the world of Ideas. Can you see the difference? Religiousness and mythology weren’t a hindrance to science and knowledge; they were, instead, a support.

Nowadays, what’s left for us? What can we still learn from these myths that seem so faded and quite anachronistic?

As opposed to our ancestors, we hold in our hands the most revolutionary weapon of the 20th century: psychoanalysis (that’s why I heartily recommend Jung’s books). Beyond the Olympic Gods, beyond the Chthonic Gods, I began to recognize the wide scenario of human temperaments. We are Gods, after all. We share with them faults and values.

The challenge

In my humble opinion, this is the challenge which must be faced by whomever wants to recover a pagan “feeling” in modern times, especially by whomever wants to approach cultures that survive only in crumbled ruins, in museums and in academic essays.  We must re-discover the worthiness of myths inside ourselves and realize that the power of sacrificium (in Latin it means “to make sacred”) lies within us.

The most precious lesson the wise Hellenes (and wise Romans too…  I’m Italian and ancient Rome played an  equally important role in my Pagan “weaning”!) have given me is:

Never forget your being HERE and your being NOW.

Maybe this life is my only lock and load, so I’d better get the best I can from it.

The ancient Pietas (greek Ευσέβεια; i.e Piety) must accompany me on this journey, together with Mythos… it was a simple value that fostered respect and love toward family and homeland, toward the Earth, toward The Gods and toward yourself. Pietas was sheer action, not a mere listing of good deeds written on a piece of paper and always procrastinated. Ancient myths are so damn contemporary…

In the end, I leave the conclusion to a friend of mine, Marcus Aurelius, who with one of his bright maxims summarizes my blathering about myths and mythologies:

Look within. Within is the fountain of the good, and it will ever bubble up, if thou wilt ever dig. (Meditations, VII, 59).

* Forgive me if I always refer to Greece; after all, it’s the culture I know best spiritually.
___________________________________

Italian Version – VERSIONE ITALIANA

Come comportarsi con i racconti del mito?

Gli antichi pagani ellenici non conoscevano il conflitto tra scienza e religione*. Eppure i loro miti li conosciamo tutti: Omero ed Esiodo ci hanno lasciato un’eredità poetica e immortale, strapiena d’inverosimiglianze, dove le divinità sono più isteriche e petulanti di un bambino viziato. Perché i Greci adoravano degli Dei così terribili? Credevo fossero un popolo intelligente! Anch’io all’inizio non riuscivo a capire, poi (forse… me lo auguro almeno!) ho capito il mio errore: NON DOVEVO PENSARE DA CRISTIANA. Dovevo lasciare da parte l’idea di una religiosità storicamente fondata, in cui Tizio in carne ed ossa dà origine alla sua religione e detta le sue regole, e dovevo dimenticarmi persino dell’idea di un libro sacro che contiene la parola di Dio scolpita nei saecula saeculorum amen, con annesse orrifiche punizioni per gli eretici che scelgono altre strade. Non esisteva nulla di tutto questo nel paganesimo greco. Tutto questo giunse… più tardi.

I paganesimi non sono religioni fissate per sempre e non possiedono dogmi. Sono spiritualità continuamente in divenire che si stratificano nel tempo e soprattutto (scriviamolo a caratteri cubitali) CAMBIANO nel tempo. La mitologia della Creta minoica non era, non poteva essere uguale spiccicata a quella dell’Atene di Aristofane… come la Roma governata da Anco Marzio non era rimasta religiosamente identica alla Roma di Claudio.

Cristallizzare una religione non è mai positivo. Lei, come qualsiasi prodotto umano, è destinata a evolversi perché noi umani siamo biologicamente portati all’evoluzione.

La cristallizzazione del culto e del mito è una lezione malamente insegnataci dai monoteismi: è una conseguenza del prefisso “mono”… una sola volta, una volta per tutte, la mitologia è stata rigidamente fissata e tu devi accontentarti. Punto.

In Grecia la scienza non fu mai una minaccia da combattere. Penso ai seguaci di Pitagora, devoti mistici ed eccellenti matematici al tempo stesso; non posso fare a meno di rievocare la strabiliante storia delle scuole Platoniche che durarono (e cambiarono nel corso dei secoli) per più di mille anni: questi filosofi, coadiuvati dai loro miti, tentarono di afferrare l’ultima verità delle Idee. Vedete la differenza? Religiosità e mito non erano un ostacolo al sapere, al contrario, erano un supporto.

Che cosa ne rimane a noi? Che cosa possiamo ancora apprendere da questi miti sbiaditi e forse ormai anacronistici? Rispetto ai nostri antenati, abbiamo tra le mani l’arma più rivoluzionaria del ’900: la psicanalisi, ecco perché vi consiglio caldamente di leggere i lavori di C. G. Jung.

Oltre gli Dèi Olimpici, oltre gli Dèi Ctonii, ho imparato a scorgere tutta la vasta panoramica del temperamento umana. Dopotutto, noi siamo Dèi. Condividiamo con loro pregi e difetti.

Secondo la mia modesta opinione, è questa la sfida che affronta chi si accosta di nuovo a un sentire pagano e fa propri i miti di culture che ormai sopravvivono soltanto nelle rovine sgretolate, nei musei e nei saggi accademici. Bisogna riscoprire la valenza del mito dentro se stessi e rendersi conto che il potere del sacrificium (in latino significa proprio “rendere sacro”) è insito in noi.

La lezione più preziosa che i saggi Elleni (via, anche i saggi Romani… sono italiana e l’antica Roma è stata parte integrante del mio “svezzamento” pagano!) mi hanno trasmesso è stata quella di non dimenticarmi mai del mio essere QUI e ORA. Probabilmente questa vita è l’unico colpo in canna che possiedo, per cui devo cercare di trarne il meglio che posso. L’antica Pietas (in greco Ευσέβεια, ossia la Pietà) deve ancora accompagnarmi lungo questo viaggio, insieme al Mythos… era un valore semplice che promuoveva il rispetto e l’amore verso la famiglia e la patria, verso la Terra, verso gli Dèi e verso se stessi. La pietas era azione pura e semplice, non una lista di buoni propositi destinati a rimanere su carta e sempre procrastinati. I miti antichi sanno essere maledettamente attuali…

Infine, lascio la conclusione al mio amico Marco Aurelio, che con una delle sue taglienti massime riassume tutto il mio blaterare su miti e mitologie: Scava dentro. Dentro è la fonte del bene, che sempre ha il potere di sgorgare, a condizione che tu sempre scavi. (da Pensieri, VII, 59)

*Scusatemi se faccio riferimento alla Grecia; dopotutto è la cultura che conosco meglio spiritualmente.

The author

Hilaria

My name is Hilaria. I’m 28, I live in Tuscany and I’m about to get a degree in Modern Philology (my focus is Renaissance Studies) at the University of Florence. I consider myself a seeker and a hopeless “bookworm.” I simply love learning, because there’s no other way to embrace and understand the unknown and make it finally familiar. My highest goal is to become a college professor.

My academic and mundane passions are literature and history. I always felt a strong emotional bond with ancient Greece and ancient Rome, without forgetting that I live in the 21st century…

On the spiritual side, I left Christianity in my teens. I wanted more than believing. I wanted knowledge. I started studying the religions of the world and it was an epiphany. The most powerful word I encountered, the one that gave me goosebumps was “paganism”; on that dusty old path my life changed for good.