Sanity Eclipsed

:::sacred sparks wasted:::

Supposedly, on May 28, 585 B.C., the sight of a total solar eclipse is said to have suddenly stopped a battle between the Medes and the Lydians in what is now Turkey. For anyone who has witnessed the way the shadow cast by the cryptic gliding of the moon over the sun creeps over the Earth knows, it is no surprise at all that such an auspicious event would cause a sea change. Yet, I imagine, as with countless other awe inspiring events that have occurred over the last decade, most this coming Monday will do little more than glance up briefly from doomscrolling to take a selfie with the Great Gig in the Sky and then get back to being numb again. Maybe this is for the best.

Throughout history, entire civilizations have orchestrated themselves as guided by celestial movements. Humankind’s symbiotic relationship with the rhythms of stars, suns, moons and far away galaxies determined how our ancestors constructed cities, when lovers were to be wed, at what time to sow seed, when and how to celebrate, to rest, to pray. Yet the further we tread away from those land-based peoples we once were, aware of the minute details of grand turnings and their resulting pulses of soil and sea, we lose our ability to understand why all of this mattered so much to so many for so very long. Ceremony gives way to holiday and the sacred becomes mundane.

Modernity has eclipsed sanity. We once saw the Sun as sacred and should something cover this incomparable life-giving force we would certainly take heed and honor such an occurrence in appropriate ways. Everything in the natural world meant something to our former selves and, being born of a far different education than we today are, we paid attention. Now, an event as profound as a total solar eclipse, has been reduced to yet another opportunity to cash in on tourist dollars. Forgive them Father, for they know not what they do.

From what I have gathered from the generosity of others who know more than me, most ancient cultures did not consider an eclipse to be a time to be hosting a festival or for being outside at all for that matter. Far from being seen as a celebratory event, if anything it was something to fear and stay far away from. For during an eclipse, That Which Gives Life, is literally obstructed entirely. The metaphor could not be more clear. Nature Herself screaming to all of existence, “I am in charge. Stop doing what you are doing. Be still.”

There are so many shadows covering the light now. The fires within and without rage on, flickering violently, continuously fed with bad fuel, poorly tended to by the deeply distracted and uninitiated. Where I now sit, in South East Asia, in all directions thousands of uncontrolled wildfires blaze on, resulting from the mad, unregulated greed of transnational industrialization. Focused only on quick profits, proper foresight is forfeited and intergenerational relationships are strained. The world over we see the brilliant spark of bright adolescents grow dim, as communities fade, no longer possessing the bandwidth to hold multiple truths, memory, Big Story and thus the ability to perform necessary rites-of-passage that guide the young into the elegance of maturity. Thus, the useful spark of youth, if it doesn’t simply blow out altogether, transmutes into apathy and vicious rage.

Yearning to belong, left unguided with no true elders available to offer greatly needed support to uninitiated youth, our brightest sparks grow into forever-adolescent adults who burn things. Having never been taught how to make meaning, how to be still and listen, to pay attention to the cycles of Time larger than the fleeting, unstable passionate desire of what one wants now, the sacred creative impulse that ought be held ritually by a mature and intact community, harnessed with ancestral wisdom for the purpose of a time beyond now is instead wasted on commerce, war, Bitcoin and A.I.

So stealth is the shadow covering us now, so clever the hungry ghosts of modernity. Many misguided and well intended souls naively believe their efforts to “liberate”, "progress”, and seek “justice” is noble, able to remedy the biggest challenges of our time. Yet with no light to be seen, the monster (wetiko) is fed instead, and the devouring fire of empire is fueled even more. The same impulse to dominate nations drives the unloved hipster to burn more of the holy earth in an effort to mine more crypto, to build rockets, to code. Misguided, the righteous yearning to feed the light, instead, furthers the spread of Wrong View.

We yearn for Mystery. We long for the warmth of that great fire we once sat (and danced!) around, wildly, with abandon, knowing deeply who we were, where we were in relation to all things. We try to build better systems now, to “fix” the mess we have made, to bring to justice those we deem responsible for our beloved, scorched earth. We place blame on the left, the right, the Zionists, the liberals, immigrants, Hamas. All the while, light from long ago deceased stars beam down to us, mirroring memories of a more sane time, in between mazes of arrogant satellites, whispers of forgotten orientations. We Art That. We all did this. Do you remember?

Looking at a screen is not the same as staring into a dancing flame. The entire experiment of so-called “civilization” seems to have been one mad effort to cover up the brilliant rays of original light. In not knowing that the plastic tree is artificial, we go about our manufactured lives thinking we are safe, totally unawares that That Which Gives Life, is no longer there. We scared Her away with cheap tricks and useless holidays.

Only Nature knows what to do now. And thank the Gods. Because in the end, modernity did not make this wretched shadow of amnesia that now blankets the post-truth realm of anxious narcissism and pointless wondering. No, we can’t give empire this much credit. There are far more powerful forces at play in the cosmos today, fruits ripening from cycles set in motion long ago, forces that have grown weary of our lazy forgetfulness. They don’t want their picture taken. They don’t want you to sing them stolen songs. They just want you to be still, to, for but one blessed moment, just stop, and be aware. It is not always clear what the intentions of the trickster are. Not everything is for us to know.

Could it possibly be,

This isn’t about us?

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#maypeaceprevailonearth