The Din of Society
As I separate myself from the herd of steel bison at the end of yet another day, I realize that I am reeling from the intrusion of sounds and actions of the mundane world into my personal space.
And so I head into the comfort of my beloved woods.
As I walk along the worn path, which in all reality is yet another sign of the determination of humans to leave their mark on that which is far greater then itself, I begin to think of the day's activities and how it has affected my journey thus far within this realm.
I think about the horns blaring, the sirens wailing, folks yelling at their children, folks yelling at each other, the din from the TV's and radios. And then it strikes me like a sudden bolt of lightning.
Most of the sounds that the human species makes are in an effort to garner attention to oneself and in many instances to get one's way at something, however great or small such attention may be.
As a witch I have always strived to reach within in order to travel about, thus stepping outside the boundaries of this mundane world.
Astral projecting to realms unattainable by any other means, for the bridges to these alternate realms, has long since been obscured by the tunnel vision of our kind.
And yet human society seems to be predicated on garnering attention from others of our kind in an effort to be noticed and to obtain one's personal desires. Our organized religions, politics, artificial wealth, laws, wars and so forth are all intended for this purpose.
However such false gratification is that of a physical sense. Which in and of itself is truly one-dimensional and tends to narrow the efforts required for achieving something far greater then ourselves.
Which leaves me wondering why, since the attention that we should be striving for is that of the Great Spirit.
The journey through this realm is but one step in the long journey to spiritual maturity and yet we tend to become easily distracted and caught up in the short term offerings of this realm.
It's as if each one is busily clamoring for their perceived piece of a society induced goal. A society that is not only lost but which refuses to finds its way out of its self created morass.
As a species we are a fairly recent addition to Gaia. And as such we expend a great deal of energy drowning out the natural sounds of life. Of which the source of these natural sounds could if we would only listen; teach us lessons which extend far beyond the artificial bubble of perception that we have created for ourselves.
As a pagan, I personally believe that Gaia is eventually going to pop such an un-natural bubble, and then what will us as a species do?
In many instances we have isolated ourselves from the natural order of life and thus have no real experience in dealing with such a shifting landscape.
And yet beneath the clamor and din of our mundane existence, reality is progressing forward as it has always done prior to and during the human presence here on Gaia. Some of those who engage in the mystical arts are keenly aware of such a progression for such knowledge is necessary to actively engage in the flow of energy that is all about us. And on occasion, we realize that we are not the teachers of spiritual realities but rather the students. And as a species our actions and reactions are part of a learning curve and in many cases an example of what not to do in regards to our spiritual lessons.
As I begin to follow a deer trail meandering through the leaf strewn ground, a gentle breeze caresses my brow. And I wonder how many others have this very same breeze touched in similar fashion. And
though it moves silently along, I am respectful of its inherent power, aware that it can go from an invisible wandering companion to a mighty hurricane which the follies of man cannot withstand. If one were to listen closely you can hear the voices of folks long gone as they careen and dance within the currents of air.
I stop next to an old Holly tree and reach out a gnarled hand. As I touch its gray bark I can feel the tension from the mundane world draining away. And in its place I become keenly aware of the sounds of the woods.
For this moment I can hear the world as it was meant to be heard.
A few yards ahead stands a grove of oak trees, and at that moment an acorn comes plummeting down to the ground. This occurrence reminds me of the endless cycle of birth and rebirth that we strive so diligently to understand, yet it is an ancient ritual that has extended down through the eons.
And yet, one has to stop and question the depth of such an understanding for as a species we frequently inflict an untimely demise to the life forms that are all about us. And we do this not as part of the natural selection but rather in response to our artificial needs.
As these thoughts form I can sense Gaia heaving a deep, deep sigh of weariness.
Slowly I wander down to the little pond in the woods. Many a year I have sat along its banks lost in thought about the follies of this realm.
As I toss a pebble into its smooth dark surface, the ripples begin to cascade backwards towards the shore. Such an example reminds one of how we affect the world around us by our own individual actions. For in a reality that extends far beyond this realm, we are in essence, all connected. For each of us carries a piece of Spirit within our being. So though we may be individual in our approach to this life,we are before, during and after this life, a part of the whole.
As I head back up the trail, a crow suddenly lands on an old stump. The remnants of what was once a mighty Willow tree. And as Crow calls out to those who would acknowledge her mysterious presence, thoughts begin to crowd my mind yet once again.
I think about how humans will gnash their teeth and wring their hands when one has returned to the womb of the Great Mother, though this is a natural part of the Wheel. She who sends her children out will eventually want us to return to her.
And yet who will mourn for the Willow that once stood here?
Is not the fauna and flora our kin as well?
Or is the self serving din that we have created as a species keeping us from hearing their death
knells as they fall before us by way of our very own hands?
As pagans we herald to the world that we are the stewards of Gaia, but it is our actions that will remain long after our words have faded away.
And so as this old witch wanders back out of the comfort of the woods, I realize that in the morning I will re-enter my steel bison and once again become immersed in the daily stampede of humanity. And once more become lost in the din of noise and false values that has become the trademark of our species.
As a pagan I would like to think that there is always the opportunity to escape to the comfort of the woods, but then realistically I have to wonder how long before the follies of humans affect even this small enclave of reality?