Naturalistic Paganism

Upcoming work

This Sunday

NaturalPantheist

What spiritual practices can help develop a naturalistic path?

Walking the walk: Practice for naturalists, by NaturalPantheist

Appearing Sunday, August 19, 2012.

Next Sunday

B. T. Newberg

Experience the world deeply through concentrating on the five senses, plus introspection.

Meditation on the Five +1, by B. T. Newberg

Appearing Sunday, August 26th, 2012

Recent Work

How can a naturalist emerge in Paganism?, by B. T. Newberg

Pagan ritual as an ecnounter with depth, Part 2, by John H. Halstead

Pagan ritual as an encounter with depth, Part 1, by John H. Halstead

Get our ebooks

B. T. Newberg ebooks

How can a naturalist emerge in Paganism?

As in the animation above, multiple currents move in the Pagan community, often in seemingly opposite directions.

– by B. T. Newberg

Tanya Lurhmann, in her anthropological study Persuasions of the Witch’s Craft, asks how an otherwise mainstream person can be persuaded by magic.  Today, I want to ask the opposite question: how can a person take part in the Pagan community and not be persuaded to a literal belief in magic or gods?  In other words, how can a naturalist emerge in Paganism?

There is such variety among Pagans that generalization is extremely difficult, but I can at least speak for myself.  How did I manage to find myself a Pagan naturalist?  Why wasn’t I persuaded to join the majority opinion, preferring instead a minority one?

Different experiences?

One possibility might be that I haven’t had the same experiences that others have had.  That can’t be ruled out, as there is no way to compare subjective experiences with any precision.  However, it certainly seems likely that our experiences are at least similar*:

  • Once, when it was lightly raining, I made an incense offering to Zeus to honor the rain, and within a few minutes it began to rain cats and dogs.  Compare this to the rain coinciding with Michael J Dangler’s ordination ritual.
  • Once, at the precise moment that I invoked Demeter to be present in a ritual beside a river, a duck floating by suddenly bolted off in flight like it saw something that scared the bejeezes out of it.  Compare this to Teo Bishop’s experience offering to Manannan by the seashore.
  • Once, after watching The Last Temptation of Christ at a friend’s house, I felt moved to go into the backyard, where I fell down in violent sobbing beneath a tree and saw – in my mind’s eye, but completely without conscious intention – all those who had ever been an influence in my life, including those who’d put me through hell, and I confessed to each “you too have loved me.”  Compare this to Gus diZerega’s experience of “love beyond conception”, as told in his book Pagans and Christians.
  • Once, in ritual I suddenly felt a distinct presence other than myself, who appeared in my mind’s eye as an American Indian woman with blue eyes; she invited me to become her lover.  Compare this to Literata’s experience of a presence, a “specific awareness of a particular personality” (mentioned in the comments of this post).
  • Once, when exhausted and lying down for a nap, beneath the scrunched bedspread pulled over me I saw – not in my mind’s eye but with eyes open, as if with normal vision – the lower half of the face of an ex-girlfriend chanting in some unknown language.  Compare this with the smoke wisps seen by Euandros.

I don’t want to get bogged down in analysis of these events at the moment; suffice to say I found naturalistic explanations the most persuasive for my experiences.

In light of these comparisons, it seems unlikely that my experiences have been all that terribly different.

Different biases?

Was I biased toward naturalism from the start?  Maybe.  When I left the Lutheranism of my upbringing I was not eager to replace one implausible deity with another.  I was ready to see any kind of literal belief in magic or deities as nonsense.

Yet experience broke down my biases upon meeting non-naturalists of extraordinary intelligence.  I’m pretty sure Drew Jacob has a few IQ points over me.  Euandros is also a damn smart guy.  No, there’s no way to dismiss other views so easily – some pretty impressive people adhere to them.

Nor was it that I didn’t give hard polytheism a fair chance.  As a member of ADF, I opened myself to the possibility of real-existing independent deities, listened carefully to other ADF members, poured my heart into rituals and devotions, and had powerful experiences (see above).  I even wrote a manual on ADF liturgy that is still used today.  Yet I ultimately realized – in ritual, no less – that I was thoroughly naturalistic.

So, I don’t think it was a result of biases, or not giving other views a chance.

Different socialization?

Another possibility is that the social route by which I came to Paganism influenced me.  After a brief face-to-face class in Contemporary Shamanism, I quickly found myself a solitary.  Books and the Internet were my primary means of interacting with other Pagans.

This may well have been significant, as the Jungian view seems disproportionately represented in the literature.  Two of the most commonly-read foundational books, Margot Adler’s Drawing Down the Moon and Starhawk’s The Spiral Dance, both display a distinctly Jungian flare.

In addition, metaphorical interpretations tend to be disproportionately explicit.  Whenever Pagans choose to make their meanings explicit, it’s more likely to be metaphorical than literal, if only because literal meanings don’t usually call for extra comment.  You don’t say “This is an apple, and by the way I mean that literally.”

Primed thus to see metaphorical meanings everywhere, I came to interpret virtually all Pagan talk as referring symbolically in one way or another to inner experience.  Whatever I couldn’t interpret this way only seemed like a failure to grasp the symbolism, not evidence that I was over-interpreting a literally-intended meaning.

So, maybe I misinterpreted some meanings.  But I couldn’t have done so for years on end if there weren’t something else going on that facilitated it.  There must be something else encouraging naturalistic persuasions to emerge.

Is it something inherent to the Pagan community itself?

Lurhmann suggests that the process of coming to be persuaded by magic** exploits a certain ambiguity in magical discourse, in which both literal and metaphorical meanings may be implied, without commitment to either.

“The Goddess”, for example, may operate metaphorically as a personification of the Earth, but may also refer literally to a personality capable of communication, caring, and causal agency.  Which meaning is meant at any given time is ambiguous.

Magicians are free to believe either way, and may flip back and forth depending on the situation.  This is not felt as uncomfortable, since emphasis is placed more on practice than on belief.

The suspicion is that this ambiguity allows new practitioners of magic a long period of experimentation during which positive emotional experiences are built up before committing to literal claims of magic’s efficacy.  Many then gradually move away from mainstream Western beliefs (which deny magic’s efficacy) and toward the majority beliefs of the magical community (which affirm it).  This process is called interpretive drift.

While Lurhmann’s study focuses on drift toward belief in the efficacy of magic, other currents and undertows may be possible.  I visualize two ocean currents, hard polytheism and naturalism, moving in apparently opposite directions.  It might look something like this:

Ocean Currents; image source: NASA/JPL

Ocean Currents; image source: NASA/JPL

How two currents emerge

So, how can a naturalist emerge in Paganism?  Many factors may be involved, but foremost among them seems to be an ambiguity inherent in Pagan discourse.

But why does this ambiguity currently seem to lead in two different directions, hard polytheism and naturalism?

Alison Leigh Lilly suggests the hard polytheist current may be motivated by a desire for legitimacy in the eyes of the mainstream, and I suspect that is true of the naturalist one as well.  While the former moves toward what is perceived as historical accuracy and resemblance to mainstream American religious views, the latter moves toward what is perceived as factual accuracy and resemblance to mainstream science.

Do the two currents ultimately lead to different shores, or are they part of some still larger swirling pattern?

*I can’t say all of these people in these comparisons are hard polytheists, since there is too much variety among individuals (even those one knows personally!) to assign such categories.  Nevertheless, I’ve attempted to draw comparisons with people who appear to interpret their experiences as evidence of something considerably more than psychology alone.
**The subject of Lurhmann’s study was the magical community, which I take to map pretty closely onto the Contemporary Pagan community, though some differences may remain.  She studied belief in the efficacy of magic (not just psychology, but literal external effects).  The literal existence of deities was not the main subject of her study, but the factors involved seem similar enough to warrant extending her conclusion to questions of deity as well.

Upcoming work

This Sunday

B. T. Newberg

In a community like Contemporary Paganism, how do naturalists emerge?

How can a naturalist emerge in Paganism?, by B. T. Newberg

Appearing Sunday, August 12th, 2012

Next Sunday

NaturalPantheist

What spiritual practices can help develop a naturalistic path?

Walking the walk: Practice for naturalists, by NaturalPantheist

Appearing Sunday, August 19, 2012.

Recent Work

Pagan ritual as an ecnounter with depth, Part 2, by John H. Halstead

Pagan ritual as an encounter with depth, Part 1, by John H. Halstead

Isis in Big History, by B. T. Newberg – Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, and Part 4

Get our ebooks

B. T. Newberg ebooks

An invitation to blog at Pagan Square

Pagan Square logo

The following message arrived in my inbox this morning.  Pagan Square is a community blog space that runs the gamut of different views within Paganism, and naturalism could certainly use more representation. Check it out.

– B. T. Newberg, editor

Gentlepeople,

The Humanist/Atheist Pagan/scientific pantheist movement is something I’ve been following since our family printing company printed the World Pantheist newsletter for several years in the 90’s.

I’m the publisher of Witches&Pagans magazine and the editor of both the magazine and its associated blogosphere PaganSquare.com

I’m currently recruiting selected viewpoints and authors for PaganSquare, and your site came to my attention as the home of a number of highly-qualified bloggers.

We can’t pay in Coin of Ye Realm (I’m a volunteer at my own business these days!) but we’ve got excellent traffic (the site as a whole is averaging 10,000 page views a day) and I promote every single blog post to Witches&Pagans 12,000+ Facebook fans as well as to Twitter, so we hope to provide our bloggers with an excellent venue.

Comments on your blog are a) by registered users only, which seems to be keeping the trolls away) and b) managed by you (so if a troll *does* show up at your blog, you are giving the tools to banish said beast, if that’s your choice. (Like I said, we’ve been troll free thus far.) When we put ads on the site later this year, each blogger will be provided with our second-largest ad size to promote whatever s/he wants to on his/her on blog, so that’s a chance to promote your site and/or projects.

If you can share this announcement with your bloggers, I’d be most appreciative.

Gaia bless,

Anne Newkirk Niven

Pagan ritual as an encounter with depth, Part 2, by John Halstead

Trapeze ghost, by Elaine Clayton

“Ritual is not like a scientific formula, but rather like a poem or dance — intended not to control, but to court the unconscious.”

In Part 1, I discussed how I try to create ritual that is an expression of the unconscious.  Today, I will explain how I try to maintain the connection to the unconscious after the ritual is created.

The routinization of ritual

Jung often used the metaphor of water to describe the vivifying energies of the unconscious.  He called it the aqua gratiae (“water of grace”).  This water, he says, “comes from deep down in the mountain [the unconscious] and runs along secret ways before it reaches daylight [consciousness].”  The place where it springs forth is marked by a symbol.  This symbol merely marks the experience of the archetype, and it should not be confused with the experience (the water) itself or the archetype (the source of the water).

This “water” that Jung speaks of can be creative or destructive: “Where there is no water nothing lives; where there is too much of it everything drowns.”  The role of the conscious mind, then, is to regulate its flow.  Jung writes: “It is the task of consciousness to select the right place where you are not too near and not too far from water; but water is indispensable.”  Too much and ritual is a flood of chaotic imagery that may even threaten to imperil our psychic well-being.  Too little and ritual becomes an arid formality that only aids in the repression of the unconscious.  As Jung writes, “There is no development at all but only a miserable death in a thirsty desert if one thinks one can rule the unconscious by our arbitrary rationalism.”

James Hollis writes that the purpose of ritual is to lead us back to the experience of depth from which the ritual arose in the first place.  Ritual can be imagined as a canal leading back to the place where the archetypal energies first bubble to the surface.  If that connection is interrupted, then ritual becomes a dry canal, a mere routine or dead form.  Two ways the connection to the unconscious can be blocked are (1) by treating ritual as a technique and (2) by treating ritual as a self-expression.

Ritual vs. technique: Courting the unconscious

The canal analogy I used above should not be taken to imply that we can control the unconscious.  We may be able to channel the flow of the water of the unconscious, but we can neither stop it when it comes nor cause it to flow when it has ceased.  Edward Whitmont describes ritual as a formalized context for “containing” the affect-charged contents of the unconscious so that they can be safely confronted.  While this is true, it is a mistake to think of ritual as a means of controlling the unconscious.  Many Pagans view ritual as a technique for creating altered states of consciousness, raising “energy”, or achieving some other psycho-spiritual effect.  To the Jungian Pagan, ritual is not a technique — not even a technique for integration of the unconscious.  The integration of the unconscious can never be effected, only prepared.  Ritual creates a “space” for the potentialities of the unconscious to manifest, but their manifestation is not caused by the ritual.  Ritual, then, is an active waiting upon.

An example of the too-conscious or overly-rationalistic ritual can be seen in the case of the Renaissance magician or the modern occultist.  When magic is understood as a technology, “a science of causing change to occur in conformity with the will”, then ritual becomes an expression of the ego.  Occultists believe that the careful and precise application of magical formulae can be used to control (super-)natural forces, including the daemonic.  The occultist imagines themselves to be something like a scientist, but one who understands (super-)natural laws which are unknown or unrecognized by the scientist.  Some Pagan magical practice and ritual resembles occultism in this way.  A good example of this is the ritual circle.  Renaissance magicians believed they could control the daimonic forces they summoned within the circle, and many Pagans today use the circle in a similar way to control the “energy” raised in the ritual.

The Jungian Pagan, on the other hand, knows that, in the realm of the unconscious, control is an illusion.  The forces of the unconscious may be invoked, aroused, courted, persuaded, and seduced — but never controlled.  Even when they draw on some of the same symbolism as occultists, Jungian Pagans understand their use of these symbols in a very different way.  For a Jungian Pagan, ritual is not like a scientific formula, but rather like a poem or dance — intended not to control, but to court the unconscious.  If a Jungian Pagan uses a ritual circle, for example, it is not to magically contain the forces of the unconscious, so much as to create a psychological space into which those forces can be invited.  The unconscious may manifest, or it may not, or it may happen after the ritual is completed and when it is least expected.

Ritual vs. self-expression: Listening to where the words come from

Just as the ritual circle is not used to control the unconscious, so too the words of a ritual are not intended to command it.  They are intended rather to evoke, as when we evoke a feeling or a memory.  As such, it is critical during the ritual to listen deeply.  I try to adopt a listening attitude even when I am the one speaking.  This applies to the non-verbal expressions, like gestures, as well as the words.  The goal of ritual for Jungian Pagans is not to speak to the unconscious, but to listen to it.  The trick then is to think of ritual not as a self-expression, but as a self-forgetting.

In order to achieve this self-forgetting, I find that it is essential that I learn the words and gestures of the ritual by heart.  Reading and speaking from memory are very different internal experiences, and I find that reading is too self-conscious and often interferes with evocation.  This dictates that the ritual must be relatively simple.  The aphorism, “less is more”, has usually proven to be true in my experience of ritual.

Then when I listen, I try to hear what is unspoken in the words and gestures of the ritual.  Jung quotes Gerhard Hauptmann as saying, “Poetry evokes out of words the resonance of the primordial word.”  The words in ritual are poetic in this sense and intended to evoke what Jung calls “the primordial image” or archetype.  When I speak the poetic words of ritual, I try to hear the “primordial word” or archetype, to listen not so much to the words as to the place where words come from.  Martin Heidegger writes that to truly hear what is unspoken we must let the words come to us as something “unique, never to be repeated, inexhaustible” and let ourselves be shaken to our depths by it.  I find it is helpful to read these words by Heidegger before I perform a ritual to put myself in this receptive frame of mind.  When I speak the words, I imagine this is the first time the words have ever been spoken, and this will be the last time they will ever be spoken, knowing that the sound of the words themselves will never capture the fullness of their meaning.  Then, sometimes, the ritual will transport me back to that experience of the archetype that gave rise to the ritual in the first place.

Sources

Hanegraaf, Wouter. “How Magic Survived the Disenchantment of the World”, Religion, vol. 33 (2003)

Heidegger, Martin. “What is Called Thinking?” (1968)

Heidegger, Martin. Fundamental Concepts of Metaphysics (1929/30, 1993)

Hollis, James. Under Saturn’s Shadow: The Wounding and Healing of Men (1994)

Jung, Carl. Correspondence to H.L. Philp, in Psychology and Western Religion (1984)

Jung, Carl. “On the Relation of Analytical Psychology to Poetry”, The Spirit in Man, Art, and Literature, Collected Works, vol. 15

May, Rollo. Love and Will (1969)

Whitmont, Edward. Return of the Goddess (1982)

The author

John H. Halstead

John Halstead is a former Mormon, now eclectic Neopagan with an interest in ritual as an art form, ecopsychology, theopoetics, Jungian theory, and the idea of death as an act of creation.  He authors the blog The Allergic Pagan.

Check out John’s other posts: