The Yin-Yang of Nature

1024px-Yin_yang.svg

Yin is the dark and yang is the light.

I)

The castles we build protect us from the wolf and the wind. But they do nothing against time.

Change is the nature of nature.

Routines, even good ones, fly in the face of this.

To strive to be healthy is to strive to be unhealthy.

The more we fortify against chaos, the more fortification we need against chaos. The ego separates itself from nature and must maintain its distance; which is impossible.

Thus, behind our ramparts we slowly truncate and dissolve our Selves.

A single sleepless night can bear more wisdom than a hundred days of thought.

Constantly challenging ourselves we can transcend ego-consciousness, allowing for change and re-connection. Anxiety shrivels when we walk out onto a new path; the ego is given relief that it is more capable than previously imagined.

Sometimes chaos and misfortune are what force us to change and better our Selves. Thus chaos is the evolver and exalter of human spirit. To extinguish chaos is to flatten the human spirit.

The desire for security allows us periods of vital restoration, but these sanctuaries eventually degenerate into prisons.

Our longing for pure yang puts us out of alignment with what is possible.

II)

Light is like a veil which conceals shadows. But the darkness always remains.

If we overcome all our struggles and fulfill all our dreams, we are confronted with death.

Our dreams and desires shield us from this realization; they occupy us. Sometimes we feel death seeping through the facade, but seldom so.

Therefore to be free from dream and desire is to permanently confront the unfathomable.

We know how to die as much as we know how to live. We are adapted for it and ever prepared to die.

To accept your Self is to accept elements of yin, therefore the inevitability of death.

Thus we fear our whole Selves. To be your whole Self is to undermine the control of the conscious ego; to recognize it as a mere component of the whole.

The conscious-ego exists on a plane of time, whereas the deepest aspect of Self exists in an infinite, indiscernible domain. This creates a contradiction when one is too identified with the ego, but a perfectly reasonable totality when one is willing to allow the whole Self.

The desire for yang-order and straightness rubs up against the reality of yin-disorder and roughness.

The tension between these two forces should be a great motive force for our Selves. But if we live in denial of yin, it becomes a thing to be dreaded.

III)

What is captured is taken out of its domain of spontaneity, ceasing to be what it was.

Our whole Self contains sparks of chaos which cannot be controlled. The deepest emergent properties of our Selves can be cultivated and given space, yet they act beyond our conscious control.

Imagine a person who wants to control their dreams – their deepest form of yin-perception. They would, by the very folly of their quest, be truncating themselves. The conscious ego does not have the capacity to reach the source of dreams.

Dreams analyzed by rational thought are bastardized. To understand dreams we must allow a deeper form of perception to triumph.

To stop the river in its course is to destroy it; water taken out of the river ceases to be of it. The river is more than its water, its mass, its banks and its debris. It is its flow and totality. One cannot understand what it means to be in the river from without. Nor can one take its water, fill up a pool and mistake this for the river.

To be whole and complete we must relinquish control of our whole Selves. This requires us to trust all modes of perception and to trust the unknown.

Death is the end-beginning. No one knows it, nor can they. It remains the ultimate mystery.  For the dead individual it is the only satisfiable resolution of any questions of consciousness or spirituality. When we accept this essential yin-element of death and decay, we can fully experience the yang-element of life and thriving.

IV)

Our options are to be ordered and die a long death, or to accept chaos and live a little before death.

All walls eventually crumble. All forms are subject to entropy. Every dawn the sun rises. Every dusk the sun sets.

The cosmos is equal parts yin and yang. I feel humanity may be more aligned with yin, having historically failed to overcome its evils. We continue to underachieve despite our technological progress and immense potential.

However, this is no cause for misanthropy. We have the rare ability to mirror and embody other creatures. Thus we can be influenced by yang-aligned creatures – such as the blackbird whose song is benevolence and the hedgehog whose being is innocence – to account for our shortcomings.

Yang-aligned plants and trees can guide us and support us. This is why we must be surrounded by nature at all times.

We cannot even begin to align with other creatures whilst we are trapped in wholly humanistic, individualistic, empirical domains. Spirituality is there for all of us, if we are willing to accept it with humility.

Civilized human beings must learn what wild animals already know. How to be authentic at all times.

V)

Yang without yin is an indiscernible ball of light without contour. It is a plane of stagnation. It is darkness that allows shape, diversity and contrast. Without these things there is no reason to live.

Our utopias would be domains of death and stagnation. We must accept the world we are in and accept the limits of the yang-light we may shine upon it.

This is to exist in alignment with the yin-yang of nature. This is to be whole again and to achieve what is possible.

The slumbering elves

The forest elves are sleeping now, we must not wake them!

Ssshh – tread lightly.

Say some that every winter they lay deep in their caverns, gradually releasing all moisture from their bodies.

In a dreamless slumber they wait, their breath slowing to one rise-and-fall a month, their skin becoming as tough as bark.

When spring comes, moisture and light begins to permeate through the soil – the elves stir!

But it takes many weeks to fully awaken and they appear tree-like and terrible in such a state.

This is why so many adventurers mistake them for dryads or more pernicious creatures!

Yet in good time they will again be elves; fair and songful but quick to anger!

It is a fool indeed who contrives to summon them in Winter. They will be weakened for the whole of the year to come without the replenishment of their manas. If they survive at all.

Little Dragon’s Three Seasons

Little Dragon was born at the start of Autumn.
She believed the whole world to be golden browns and deep reds
Falling leaves and falling climes.

Then came Little Dragon’s first Winter.
She believed the whole world to be icicles and beautiful morning frost
Clear skies and chilling air.

Next came Little Dragon’s first Spring.
She believed the whole world to be lush and verdant, vivid green growths
The hatching of life and the return of the sun.

‘Now I know the nature of the world and its three seasons!’ said Little Dragon.

Momma Dragon laughed and watched without judgement as her daughter ran wild
among the world.

Summer was on its way.

Retarded Growth

It is early Spring and the elder trees are daring to emerge with new leaves. Shrubs and hedges are putting out their babies to reach for the newly emerging sun. Songbirds are swooping into the garden, blessing the world with their existence. Life promises to grow, the Winter is ending.

I should be free from frustration, but quite the opposite! The growth of everything else is reminding of my retarded growth and that of those around me.

We should be free to express, to spread our arms far and wide, to let go of troubles and cease counting how much grain is left over Winter. Instead, we have school kids forced to take responsibility for a climate catastrophe they played no part in. The young generation is rising up to make up for the mistakes of the older. It is a burden they have the vigour to bear, yet I cannot help but be saddened by the recent youth climate march and school strike. It is great that they are mobilizing at such a young age, but why should they have to? They are young, life should be theirs to enjoy, property and prosperity should be their promise – not a life time of struggling against corpses which cling on to power.

I have seen the effects of fighting the system and constant swimming against the tide on myself. Of course, in my day, we were outcasts and vagabonds, ridiculed or ignored for our refusal to enter the machine. For the pioneers such action is always going to be harder – the youth should win more acclaim for their actions. Now it is common knowledge how fucked-up it is; we just need the political will to change things. But the toll has been paid by my body and soul. My growth has been retarded for most, if not all of my life.

I wish all the power of Spring to the rising generation. I have no resentment toward them – that would a conservative position of futility. But anger toward the great retarder; the one who blots out the sun and casts shade, the one who withholds compost and plant feed, the one who squeezes us into small pots which he always threatens to take away, the one who rarely bothers to pick up a watering can, the one who poisons the soil and drains our bodies of vigour, the one who picks our fruit when it is time to harvest but couldn’t care less when we are unproductive – my anger for this broken system and its retarding agents is strong. Perhaps it is my only real vigour outside of the arts!

Or perhaps a late bloomer can still grow into something beautiful. My new maxim is ‘depleted but never defeated’. Cut down but never pulled out at the roots. Spring is here and here we go again. We are on the cusp of Brexit madness, a buckling system, upheaval and unrest as the people-who-apparently-actually-matter (white middle class) prepare to suffer what we in the ‘lower orders’ have suffered for a long time. The indignities of privation and constant threat to person and property. Here we go again, I hope I can finally fulfil more of my loving nature this year.

Grow tall and strong, but grow thick thorns to protect yourself always! It is worth the energy to invest in defence, in this world which is full of evil. But even that evil cannot withstand us when we finally link our roots together and our good nature overturns the insanity of this wrong turn in humanity’s shared course.

Then we can grow, even if it is in our Autumn years.

 

Abandonment

I have been experimenting recently with staying away from the nest.

It was the built-up feelings of frustration that propelled me out. I remember a day of boldness and surety, really striving to carve out a place for me in the world.

The next day the momentum started to wear off. I was somewhere without my own personal, safe space. Back to the nest, and then away again.

But this time away meant feeling a strong sense of abandonment and desolation. I had a feeling that the spirit inside would not let me sleep, so I left, cleaving through the night to return to the dark nest.

On that night journey back I felt little of the usual fear. It was like the subconscious was projecting out onto everything, it did not really seem real; things did not seem as they were but only a figment of myself. Symbols representing something beyond my knowledge.

I listened to the spirit and it felt a lot more comfortable on its return. Waking up in the small hours of night I felt a strong sense of abandonment and desolation, and at the fringes of that a fear of self-harm or destruction. An underlining depression and dread.

I cannot quite explain it, only to say it is right at the front of the chest. I am glad I was in a familiar place when dealing with such emotions, because I was able to get through them without much alarm. In an unfamiliar place, it could have been much harder.

Life is not going to be as easy as moving away from abusives to somewhere safe. On my own is not exactly safe, and unfamiliar is not exactly safe. There has to be a careful back and forth until somewhere good is found. If indeed somewhere good is possible.

Maybe, at the risk of the depression talking, this is life now. Maybe we are thrust into tragedy and the best we can do is survive it until we die. Looking at the appalling lot of the people I was forced to grow up with, I can only compare it to something like a developing nation which must suffer enormous tragedy in order to industrialize. The legacy of abusiveness and repressed pain means there is immense suffering by default. The spiritual and emotional retardation means that members of this stunted family start far behind others, who are nonabusive and encouraged a lot more. Instead of a deranged unit which destroys its own interest, most people have a more functional organ which can achieve synergy and unity. As such, none of us can achieve the impossible standards of society, and a demi-success is all we can sustain. I can achieve only an orc-like existence, at the fringes, barely alive, unblessed by the light that shines, and comfortable only with warped creatures of shadow. Without my wretched god of snarling darkness and self-loathing, I am naked and anxious, left to trembling and the cruel punishments of the soul.

All the sentimentalism of souls and eternities and objective meaning are just there so that we never have to see and understand the ultimate futility of Nature. Its beauty and good feeling only fleeting, its ultimate end the stillness and demise of everything. If this is the case, striving for the ultimate state of society will only aid us materially; existentially nothing would have changed. People will suffer anxiety disorders and depressions under socialism. Not because of oppression and injustice, but because this is the legacy of evolution. Humanity will always find something to make itself miserable, as much as it strives to change and struggle for better. All human effort, a vigourous struggle to swim to the surface, but never does a foot step upon the shores of elysium.

Well, that was a depressing tangent! It feels true to express it, painful though it is. For some reason I also find it utterly hilarious. Do I believe such nihilism? Some part of me must do.

The other reveres Elder trees and sings of optimism through bleakness, always seeing light on the other end of the cavern.

Beneath a bright moon

Beneath a bright moon last night

I stared up on my knees.

A religious experience, of awe and connection.

Trembling, tormented contrition

For becoming an addict of petty stimulation

Going nowhere, shutting off nature

Needing the pain of another sleepless night

Beneath the bright moon to remind me

How I once shared its glory

And walked much more freely

Through winter cold

The scrape of bramble-thorns

On my clothes.

 

I feel sometimes a traitor to the cause

Of life on earth, natural gods

Yet I do not spite myself

Or feel much more than disappointment

None of us can afford to take the whole world

On our shoulders

No one is fully responsible

For the themes within us

For the madness of civilization.

All we can do is recognise this

Gradually realigning ourselves

To the order and chaos of gods such as bright moon

For we are half a chaos race

Chaos a necessity for our hearts to beat

And our souls to taste vital forces.

This the ego, seeking security

Seeking eternity, cannot accept

And so the gentle war inside me

And all of us who are not wholly wolf!

 

Beneath a bright moon last night I found a god

That was as much me as I was it

One of many, an ancient force.

I will not forget you again, my celestial

I will remember that I am a shard of your power

And eventually be magnanimous again.

Winter Solstice

Winter Solstice
The bleak hope
Old Night still holds sway
Dominating the heavens
Clouds keep light at bay
And the coldest months await.
Yet the tide turns here
Not one more day
Does the darkness triumph
Its slow retreat assured.
Step by step
Day by day
Archangels of light
Push against dark forces
Who slowly yield
In Nature’s eternal,
Celestial,
Dance of balance.
The war for the heavens
Has ended not
Battle after battle
Awaits the forces of nature
And many of mankind
Will still tremble and cling
In the mists of Old Night.
But for those left standing
Spring’s sweet dawn awaits
Thrice in mirth
For the embattled and the worn,
And I will be at the van
Bright standard in one hand
And sword of sunfury in the other
Saying; ‘Darkness,
Though your place
Be not ever truly vanquished
In the balance of all-things
And my deep respect you have,
Your time has come this year
And you must take your place
In the depths of eternity!’
At last, the dark days
Are ending!
Come transcendent light
And do for our souls
What we may not ourselves do!

Task of the brave

To mend what was broken
To heal what was wounded
To find what was lost
To restore what was ruined
To raise what was fallen
To love what was neglected
To fill what was empty
To seed what was barren
This is your task, hortzosh.

But to find why these tragedies
Came to pass in the first place;
To stop evil from triumphing again
*This* is the task of the wizards.

The wizards…

ZERO IMPACT

You have to be sustainable about being sustainable.
 
The limits of what can be achieved in society at the present have to be acknowledged, to prevent great disappointment and relapse back into total drone-ism.
 
The emotional challenge of building new societies when we carry so many wounds from the old must be recognized, to prevent us repeating those oppressions.
 
Realistic lyfe goals.
 
Amazing how many ‘zero impact’ people are precisely that – making zero impact on the wider struggle to stop climate change by getting their hands dirty and ending this capitalist insanity.
 
Go and live under a tree if you want, it will last until some government cuts it down to build a railway!
 
(And of course the capitalists and the mainstream exalt the lone hermit who runs off to the woods to live “in nature”. That is one less green activist and one less dissident in society, one more disarmed citizen waiting to be bulldozed by the leviathan when his turn comes, and one more symbol-fetish person for the masses to admire without recognizing the futility of their reality).

Enchantment

Without enchantment, we are lost in the world. Without myth, guideless. Without spirit, we are dead inside. Without art, we are silent.

The world-as-it-is: not suitable for our primed imaginations. Stillness is just a reprieve, sleep a chance to dream. The vigour of endless Western minds; ceaseless, like the snout of an anteater. The world is layered with our mark.

Then let us do the best that we can do with our candor and sheer energy. Let us enchant nature and live there, among the wood sprites and the sacred trees. Let us catch that mana, let us fly these concrete prisons.

Profit is a road leading nowhere. But the deep wood and the bramble grove is an infinite, winding adventure…