On the Defensive- Part 1

One from the ‘Drafts’ folder. As I ponder further whether or not I should have to defend my non-belief- when, logically, those who believe without evidence should be the ones attempting to make their ideological case- I’ve put together some defenses on topics a little less-controversial. Perhaps. People seem to be pretty het up about these things, too…

One night last week, I opted to consciously put a hold on the all the insanity involved in holiday prep and some of the other obligations/responsibilities to which I am currently beholden. My plan (after I foolishly braved the freakin’ Eaton Centre- THAT didn’t last. Holy cows, people. If you’re going to walk and text in the midst of a million people, then you are GOING to get mowed down as I move with purpose to hit the stores I absolutely HAVE to hit), was to chill on the couch and catch up on some reading.

And writing.

My output (both the fictional stuff and here in WordPressWorld), for quite some time now, hasn’t been anywhere near where I’d like it to be. I could blame it on the time of year, but it’s been going on far longer than can be legitimated by that particular excuse.

There is the reality that my laptop is on its last legs (not that it has legs- it’s a MacBook)- sometimes it works, sometimes not so much – and the danger that I’ll get into some serious compositioning and have it die and lose it all is very frightening. I don’t need the anxiety- or the anger and frustration that would result when that happens. Santa knows the sitch. Hoping the Big Guy comes through so I’ll have one less potential defense for lack of productivity. (Update: Totes dead now. RIP Abe. And his successor was not to be found, under the tree- so I’ll have to venture out into the MacWorld to purchase one myself- and that ain’t happening until the stores clear of ‘bargain’ shoppers.)

Honestly though, I think the true problem is that I’m dealing with a whack of sensory overload right now. There is so much going on, and most of it deserves some reflection and commentary. As of this moment there are 12 drafts in dashboard. Lucky 13, if you count this one here.

Comfortably settled on the couch, I tried to put something together that began to address the disgusting news of the past week(s)- downtown Australia under siege, more women and children taken by an putatively-religious organization of thugs in Africa, children and educators murdered in a school in Pakistan…

Couldn’t do it.

Just. Couldn’t.

There is no insight I can offer. I don’t get any of it. I can’t explain away the credulity and self-serving power mongers that drive these sorts of ideologies of cruelty and irrationality. I’m not going to try.

Since I was having issues with writing I opted to do a bit of reading instead. Like the draft folder, my To-Read list is mighty full at the moment. Once again, couldn’t do it.

For whatever reason (partly the season, I’d guess), the bulk of the articles I’ve marked to come back to seem to be about things like belief-based indefensible defenses of the the existence of an historical dude named Jesus and his definite and absolute divinity (and this article about why such defenses are indefensible), the whole end-of-the-year looking back retrospective on things like how no one was reporting let alone paying attention to the really important stuff going on, or the fact that while this guy is attempting to bring change to a millennia-old outdated and obsolete institution, those who benefit most from the money and power continue to fight to hold onto that money and power and deny culpability in cover-ups and injustices…

All that stuff is just sameoldsameoldsameold… I have no new ideas about how I might more effectively tilt at those windmills at the mo’. Too much to do, and not enough determined energy to fight the idiocy.

But I AM feeling defensive… My reserves and resources are low, but there have been fighting words- on a number of topics- that have been thrown around of late. So, since these particular topics matter not-at-all in the overall scheme of important things, these things, I feel up to defending.

When I was talking about the newest iteration of the Band Aid thingamabop (okay, that was a defense too. I guess I’ve been on the defensive for a while now), I mentioned that I was working on a defense of the guy who has stuck around (and retained enough fame) to participate in all the various versions of the thing in the past 30 years.

Bono. We all love to hate him. I’m guilty of that, myself, truth be told. He welcomes it. But hey- the guy’s got some redeeming stuff going for him too…

Doesn’t he?

Yesterday, there was a story on my beloved CBC all about the biggest marketing fails of 2014. I’m not a fan of marketing- I resent being marketed to, and certainly don’t want to deal with people looking for information that will help the process run more smoothly- so I knew I’d get a chuckle at the offered instances in which things did NOT go according to plan.

The Number One biggie gave me a little pause for thought.

When U2 ‘gifted’ humanity with ‘free’ versions of their latest album, the interwebs were set afire with complaints and concerns and conspiracy theories. A certain portion of the younger generation, on social media platforms like Twitter et al, claimed that U2 MUST be Illuminati, since they woke up out of innocent U2-free sleep to the unauthorized addition on their own, personal, technological device(s).

Which none of them seem to really understand. They had been ‘hacked’. The lads from Ireland had violated their privacy by offering them their latest missive. For people who seem to use the social media at the expense of actual human interaction a whole bunch, they really don’t seem to grasp how it works.

Songs of Innocence, their (unlucky?) 13th studio album, WAS there- on devices or in the iTunes store available for download (if, as in my case, your phone ain’t so Smart). It was advertising- an ill-fated attempt at generating a new audience. It was not a conspiracy.

For about a week I couldn’t stop laughing at the suppositions- Bono and Crew were Illuminati. Illuminati. Perhaps the worst part of labeling them such? The accusers were obviously drawing their definition and conspiracy theories from another book by the the writer of TDB (interestingly, I wrote about Bono in that post about TDB, too. Maybe he IS Illuminatus. Just kidding. He couldn’t Illuminati his way out of a paper bag).

Sigh. They couldn’t even pull their fictional conspiracists from good fiction (the Illuminati also appear in Foucault’s Pendulum– but it is highly doubtful that the investigative minds positing the theory that U2 are part of their number- in less that 140 characters- have taken the time to read Eco).

Anyhoo.

Bono sort of apologized for the ‘megalomaniacal’ stunt, blaming it on their enthusiasm for the new tunes and a desire to share them with everyone.

They offered a whole lot of people the opportunity to have a listen to an album. They didn’t kill anyone or kidnap young girls in the name of misogynistic ideology.

Yet it got people reallyreally PISSED. THAT did. A gift of music. Which you could easily delete if it wasn’t your cup o’ joe.

Seriously.

In the realm of ‘Much Ado About Nothing’, this sitch takes a whole big chunk of the cake.

The argument can, perhaps, be made, that what they should have apologized for is the album itself. I have to admit, I was sort of in that camp when I first downloaded and listened to the thing.

The fact that the lead-off single was already an iTunes/iPhone commercial has something to do with that. Irritating as Hell to have it pop up endlessly on the tv. Then there was the fact that it pays homage to Joey. I’m not sure that the song says ‘Ramones’ in any way, shape or form. I’m not sure that it even says ‘U2’ all that much. And did you ever hear the version of Beat on the Brat they did for the Ramones Tribute album? If you haven’t, please don’t google it. No really. Do not. It hurts my heart.

Is it a great album? I don’t think so. Although Rolling Stone begs to differ. Number 1. Of. The. Year.

I’ve listened to it in its entirety a few times since the Day of the Download. Parts of it have grown on me- not so much that I’d have been all that pleased if I’d paid money for it- but enough that I can appreciate what they were doing.

And enough that demonstrates that they can still rock’n’roll better than a whole lot of young’uns getting way-too-much air time on the YouTube and such these days.

The Lads have said that it is their ‘most personal’ album yet. Some of that comes through quite clearly. Bono’s song about his mother, Iris, is truly lovely. Raised By Wolves hearkens back to the violence of the environment in which they grew up- the Dublin and Monaghan bombings of 1974- and reignites some of the same feelings that Sunday Bloody Sunday awakened, back in the day. Sleep Like a Baby Tonight is deceptively lullaby-esque- until you realize it references a pedophile priest…

Add to all that the fact that Bono, even if he is a self-righteous megalomaniac, has had an impact on the world and does have a tendency to do more than pay lip-service to his drive for change.

He gave this little TEDTalk less than two years ago.

Okay. So he’s a prat. He loves himself so veryvery much. The biblical/historical allusions made my teeth grind. And he’s got a mouth on him that makes me cringe at times. But he can also laugh at himself- and at his fame and the lack of real importance that accompanies the fame. And he is doing something. He is using his celebrity (and, evidently, his powers as an Illuminati) to aid in the eradication of worldwide poverty. Worldwide Poverty.

Modeling himself after those greaterthans who came before him, he is helping to make the world a better place.

Factivism. I like that. I can get behind that. (I could do without the image of his ‘collation arousal’, though. Ick).

‘The power of the people is so much stronger than the people in power.” That line alone speaks louder than most of the pop-tripe out there in the www.

A defense mechanism is a coping technique. It helps to reduce anxiety. We get defensive when our opinions or illusions or way of seeing the world are challenged to an unreasonable degree. It is an unconscious impulse used for self-protection when things get overwhelming.

It isn’t good to resort to these mechanisms pathologically or immaturely, but we can do so maturely. That latter option may include things like altruism, humour, respect and gratitude- those virtuous actions that we can use to positively optimize our relationships and interactions with society. This can also involve things like emotional self-sufficiency– not relying on the opinions of others to validate oneself.

As I continue to evaluate my own reactions to things- whether those found in our popular culture, or in the wider world- I’ll be keeping that one, in particular, in mind.

While I do so, here’s one from the vaults. I forgot how much I love this song, actually. The Edge’s monotone provides a nice counterbalance to Bono’s somewhat strident falsetto. It also goes to show that this band is more than its vocalist (and his big mouth)- and that they have things of value to say.

The Edge has said that this song- and the Zoo TV Tour– tapped into “the sense that we were being bombarded by so much information that you find yourself shutting down and unable to respond.” Twas true back in 1993. The sensory overload is exponentially worse, now.

“Don’t move, don’t talk out of time

Don’t think, don’t worry, everything’s just fine
Just fine

Don’t grab, don’t clutch, don’t hope for too much
Don’t breathe, don’t achieve or grieve without leave

Don’t check, just balance on the fence
Don’t answer, don’t ask, don’t try and make sense

Don’t whisper, don’t talk, don’t run if you can walk
Don’t cheat, compete, don’t miss the one beat

Don’t travel by train, don’t eat, don’t spill
Don’t piss in the drain, don’t make a will

Don’t fill out any forms, don’t compensate
Don’t cower, don’t crawl, don’t come around late
Don’t hover at the gate

Don’t take it on board, don’t fall on your sword
Just play another chord
If you feel you’re getting bored
(I feel numb)
(I feel numb)
(Too much is not enough)

Don’t change your brand, don’t listen to the band…”

Even if they want to give you their music for free.

Thanks for the tunes, Lads.

Baphomet. (And Bono)

Search terms. I don’t know much about SEOs and the like. Those sorts of emails/’comments’ that thinly disguise advertisements for companies that do know all about such things end up in the spam folder and are all deleted. I have written about a few peculiarities that have popped up now and again, but I’m kinda wondering what’s up with people right now. Every day for the past week or more, the same search term keeps on showing up on the stats page.

It’s there again today. Twice.

I did write about Baphomet- in a particular context- not all that long ago. So okay. Fair enough. The search engine brings people- who happen to be looking for the guy- here. But it seems like a whole lot of people are looking for info about a 14th century construct lately.

Weird.

Perhaps that damned movie about a fictional code was on tv again.

While we were visiting Scotland I insisted that we pay a visit to that little chapel that shows up at the end of the damned movie (and the even more damned book that inspired the damned movie).

Small (okay, LARGE) aside- in case some of you might be wondering why I am so against Dan Brown and That Damned Book (TDB, from now on)…

1) he ripped off the idea from a bunch of ‘journalists’ who came up with the (fictional) story without any level of thought about actual historical veracity;

2) the writing is pretty much uniformly bad, but the ending is just plain terrible;

3) TDB is so filled with scientific and historical inaccuracies that I just can’t even…,

4) it has fed the never-ending and voracious appetites of conspiracy idiots across the globe (who certainly needed no new fodder);

and

5) his main character is a professor in an academic discipline that doesn’t exist. Semiotics is an academic discipline. Symbology is not. Semioticians study signs and symbols as elements of communication and behaviour, focusing on the relationship of the signifier and the signified, using linguistics and psychology to identify the ways in which symbols are used to construct meaning. Symbologists study nothing. Because they don’t exist.

Oh. And also because TDB was turned into TDM, and, as a result, I actually hated a movie that starred Tom Hanks. Which is terrible. Because Tom Hanks is lovely.

Admittedly, it did bring a number of people to my classrooms over the years. Either because they were looking for evidence that the RC Church hadn’t lied to them all these years, or because they thought that an examination of the non-canonical Xian writings would demonstrate that TDB was right all along. Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to set minds at ease in the first group (the Church has told more than its fair share of lies) and the primary sources and historical evidence we have does not, in any way, point to anything in TDB being at all accurate. Historically speaking.

End rant.

So.  You could ask, legitimately, why would I want to visit Rosslyn Chapel – just outside of Edinburgh- if I loathe TDB/M so much?

Well. Quite simply because it’s beyond lovely and the story of the Chapel and its restoration is way more interesting than anything a hack novelist could dream up.

I loved it there. At the end of a long day touring some of Scotland’s most historic sites- Bannockburn and Stirling Castle were just two of the stops- we were coping with a fair bit of history overload (yes, it can happen. Even to me) when we arrived at Rosslyn. The site, for all its historical value, overwhelms with its beauty and the intricacy of the carvings, yet is a place that lends itself to quiet reflection.

And, since I do like the actual history of groups like the Masons, the Chapel provides some interesting evidence of the traditions and symbols associated with that storied Brotherhood. I bought a matted rubbing of some of the Masonic symbols that are found in the Chapel, as a matter of fact (have yet to get it framed. Which, since I had to go looking for a stock photo of the Chapel because I haven’t started sorting through the photos we took, isn’t really all that surprising).

As we sat in the Chapel, listening to the guide talk a bit about its history, its resident cat, William, popped in to say hello to everyone. He made straight for my lap (as is generally the case with most small creatures. I tend to attract animals), and was a purring mass of black and white fur who enhanced the story we were being told immensely. Nothing like a lap full of cat and a good story. If I’d had a Scotch in hand, it would have been pretty much perfect.

The guide noted that the Chapel had fallen into disrepair after centuries of neglect, but was gradually undergoing some restoration work when TDB was released. That August, the Chapel received more visitors than they had in the entirety of any previous year. Since there was only one washroom available on the site, this proved more than a little problematic. And Dan Brown’s fans continued to descend en masse to discover the secret of the Code for themselves.

The influx of Seekers of the Holy Grail facilitated the building of a beautiful Visitors’ Centre (complete with washrooms, cafe and gift shop- where you can buy Scotch, bottled especially for Rosslyn as a means of raising funds for its on-going restoration- although they frown on you drinking it in the Chapel) with all kinds of cool interactive displays that talk about the carvings and the (family) history of its construction.

The release of TDM brought even more visitors to the site- again, a good thing from a heritage preservation perspective. The guide told us a few tales of memorable visitors- those convinced that Elvis lay in the inaccessible vault beneath the Chapel, those convinced of the existence of the Sang Real, and those who thought they might catch a glimpse of Tom Hanks.

And then there were the crazy people…

One of the things that most resonated with me as we traveled the highways and byways of Scotland, in the company of fantastic storytellers with an impressive knowledge of history, was the fact that so much of it is continually being re- and/or over-written. This was made clear as crystal by the unanimous expression of disdain for one film in particular- one that starred a too-short Australian, dressed in anachronistic belted plaid, while painted (also anachronistically) with woad. I’ll refrain from mentioning the bit about the affair with Isabella of France (who was only three at the time of the events portrayed in the film). Oops. Guess I just did.

I haven’t seen Braveheart in its entirety. Never really interested me- especially since I read about the glaring inaccuracies fairly early on. I’m not all that fond of the Aussie-in-question (although, while I’m not much into the post-apocalyptic genre, Mad Max did have its moments. And I liked the first Lethal Weapon film. Nothing after that, though), so I wasn’t in a rush to witness his particular brand of over-acting.

I was quite surprised at the vehemence with which our guides emphasized the wrongness of the film’s presentation of its hero. William Wallace is very important to the Scots- and messing with his story is problematic. To say the least. They still talk of his murder (and they consider it murder, not execution) as if it happened recently, rather than in the 13th century.

We humans revise and review and revisit history all the time. Our stories are re-written and re-presented in different forms. The best stories hold up in the face of reworking and redaction because their themes and characters speak to something that is universal.

But, all too often, we do so at our peril.

Am I being pedantic when I complain about the ridiculousness found in TDB? Probably. A lot of people like the story, and found some level of entertainment in it. And, after all, Dan Brown never claimed that the story was non-fiction. Those conspiracy fans who make such claims do so of their own accord.

But. The subject matter at the source of his fiction, for all that it is, itself, fictional, has loomed fairly largely in my life. I’ve spent a lot of time with the texts- primary, secondary and tertiary, in my adult life. So the fact that people are willing to accept the further fictionalization of the myths, and reinterpretation of the symbols and metaphors they were meant to illustrate, as TRUE just bugs me. For the same reasons that any sort of unexamined credulity makes me crazy.

And now I’m ranting again.

What does any of this have to do with a search engine term that keeps bringing people here to visit? Some of you (assuming you’ve stuck around this long) are probably thinking (not without cause) that I’ve gotten totally lost in a complete derailment of my train of thought, but there is a connection. I swear.

You see, poor old Baphomet is the exemplar of this sort of thing. He is a construct that originated out of torture designed to garner confessions from a group of monks that had become a bit too rich and too powerful for the comfort of the King. And the Pope (although the Vatican now says that the persecution was ‘unjust’, and that Clement V was ‘forced into it’ by King Philip IV).

As they were tortured, some of the falsely arrested Knights confessed to the worship of some sort of heathen idol- variously described as a severed head, a head with three faces, and a cat. Until the persecution of the Templars, no one had heard of Baphomet. He arose out of the stories that were told about the perceived crimes of the Knights of the Temple.

Created. Whole cloth. As an instrument of condemnation of a group that was causing the powers-that-be some difficulties. Various theories as to the origins of his name- and of the demon/idol himself- proliferated as the centuries passed. His existence was back-dated for veracity.

With the 18th century rise of Freemasonry, Masonic leaders sought connections to heroes of the past, as they sought to create their own mythologized history. They connected the Masons to the Templars and then, going back even further, to some of my beloved Gnostic-types.

It’s all pseudo-history of the worst possible kind.

Dan Brown is far from the first person to cash in on the credulity that such unexamined claims can foster, if not cause outright. Eliphas Lévi drew a picture (literally) of Baphomet that served to secure a place for his image in Western minds for subsequent generations.

This is him. According to an occultist with a really good imagination.

 Aleister Crowley liked Baphomet (and Eliphas Lévi) a fair bit. He is generally considered to be one of the minions of Hell (Baphomet, not Eliphas)- if not the Devil Dude himself. Some Xian evangelist-types suggest that Masons, today, still worship that particular demon.

All this notoriety. From a singular mention in the writings of a chronicler of the First Crusade- suggesting that those they fought against called upon him as they attempted to hold the city against the Crusading Xians.

Baphomet is demonstrative of what can, and does, happen when myths (and mythological characters) are cited outside of their originating context. The stories go through a process akin to Broken Telephone- with the elements of the narrative losing all connection to their original, metaphorical or symbolic purposes.

As we add details and creatively expand upon sparse references, the innocuous can become monstrous. Such is the power of story– in the hands of people who have a way with words and the construction of lasting images.

When taken as entertainment- or as a potential source of universal truths/common sense- such stories serve to unite us as human beings. We all love a good story.

Stories become dangerous their authors purport to tell truths to which they cannot, legitimately, lay claim. Or when the credulous among us (an ever-growing crowd) decide to infer truths underlying the fiction.

Baphoment is a poster-child for this phenomenon. I’d like to think that that’s the reason so many people seem to be looking for information about him here in the interworld.

Given the stuff that I see in the media on a daily basis, I’m not naive enough to really subscribe to that particular conceit.

People are searching for information about him because they believe, however foolishly, in his existence as a manifestation/personification of evil that exists in the real world.

‘Don’t believe what you hear
Don’t believe what you see
If you just close your eyes
You can feel the enemy…

And I’d join the movement
If there was one I could believe in
Yeah I’d break bread and wine
If there was a church I could receive in
’cause I need it now…

And I know that the tide is turning ’round
So don’t let the bastards grind you down’

Bono has said that the song is largely about examining his own hypocrisy. It’s about having high standards for other people, and yet not living according to those standards. Wrapped up in the clearly-communicated anger and contempt is a message to continue onward in the face of overwhelming opposition.

So, despite the constant stream of evidence that supports the supposition that we are increasingly swayed by ancient superstition and reactionary rhetoric as we are subsumed by state-sanctioned credulity, I, like Bono- and Baphomet- shall persist. In living life at the standard which I expect from others, while attempting to spread my message regarding required examination and understanding of our history- literary and otherwise. With all its revisions and redactions.

Rant over. For real, this time.

How DO you get rid of Pazuzu?

Well.

Hello again.

Recently, I’ve been on something of a hiatus/sabbatical/terrible-and-extended-period-of-complete-and-total-writer’s-block. It wasn’t planned, and it has been hard to get back into my regular cole-like round of thinking and writing about the world around me.

There are reasons for this. Some are practical- I write all day and, as a result, words have become sort of hard to access in my ‘leisure’ time; I’ve been fighting to ensure that insurance companies fulfill their contracted obligations and that lawyers are remaining on top of required procedures and such; I’ve been trying to catch up on some summer reading (too many books, not enough time); and (I have to admit) I’ve become a little hooked on Modern Family (HOW did I not watch that show before? Simple- and regretful- answer has to do with the fact that I was prejudiced against Al Bundy. BIG mistake. He’s great in this show. As are the rest of the cast and the talented writers who bring hilarious and touching family life to the small screen).

Others are existential. I’m having a bit of trouble with the current state of this here planet of ours, and I keep having moments that tempt me to surrender my Human Race Membership Card.

What the HELL is happening lately?

Fellow humans, you are CHEESING. ME. OFF. (slight tangent- why ‘cheesing’? Cheese is good. I like cheese. A lot).

There are too many fronts (and I use that word deliberately- what with warfare everywhere) on which we are refusing to act with the humanity I KNOW we can access. Choosing up sides- and responding atavistically out of emotional investment in the certainty that one perspective is the ONLY perspective worth entertaining.

Can I resign? Or opt out? For a time, anyway. At least until some semblance of rationale is restored?

Basically, I’ve been distracted. And neglectful. Maybe a little bit lazy. Living in Ignoresville– like the majority of us- rather than doing something about it all.

Shouting into the wind about these things is draining- and the complete lack of effect is dispiriting, to say the least.

But.  Excuses are just that.  Excuses.

So. In a world gone crazy, I’ve been doing my very best to re-engage as best I can. And doing so has meant resorting to my default impulse- gathering as much information from as many perspectives as possible and reflecting upon my response to the input of others.

I’m trying to get behind the headline ‘news’ and soundbite grand-standing to suss out origins and cause and effect and such-like-things. Among the things I’ve been tapping into most frequently are the myriad programs and documentaries that one can find on the CBC on any given day (at least until Harper’s Cons systematically destroy its greatness). Since it’s the summertime (according to the calendar at least- temperatures haven’t really been demonstrative of ‘summer’- here in my City by the Lake, anyway), CBC radio programs are rebroadcasting some really great shows- and many of them are linked by commonality of topical- and timely- theme.

(Although there’s some pretty fantastic new stuff, too. Anyone catch Jian chatting with Mr. Tom Petty a couple o’ weeks back? Jebus. THAT was a great interview. I might have to say more about that sometime in future- assuming I maintain this limited ability of stringing words together).

After listening to a diversity of shows, I’ve come to the conclusion that best summation of our current messes- at home and internationally- boils down to that old salt, most famously articulated by the poet/philosopher George Santayana.

Amen, Brother.

I’d go even further.  Those who refuse to take the time and effort to learn about the past don’t have clue one how to handle the present and future.

Among the most poignant commentaries that reinforce this analytic truth (as I assess such things) was an episode of The Current that featured and interview with Scott Anderson about his book Lawrence in Arabia: War, Deceit, Imperial Folly and the Making of the Modern Middle East (which has now been bumped to the top of my summer reading list).

Synopsis? Anderson illustrates that since the period before WWI, the West just keeps on blundering into a region of the world about which we have zero understanding. The colonial ideal- as dictated and perpetuated by arrogance and drive for economic, political and religious power- set the groundwork for the percussive events that continue to ripple, violently, through the region and beyond.

On a connected theme, Ideas had a two-part documentary called ‘The Chosen’, talking about the concept and its origins in Bronze Age ideology and mythology, and how it has continued to shape belief and political motivations since.

It made me angry. Things like ‘Sense of Mission’ (that proselytizing to the ‘ignorant’ of other lands/cultures is not only acceptable, but MANDATED and supported by the ruling powers- religious AND political), the ‘Doctrine of Discovery’ and ‘Manifest Destiny’ stem out of the variety of ways in which the biblical conceptualization of ‘Chosen-ness’ have been interpreted over the ages.

It supports our narratives of violent conquest. Things like Divine Providence and Blessed Partisanship. The imposed authority of the Pope and the secular governments (under things like the ‘Divine Right of Kings’) granted ‘authority’ over all non-Xian peoples.

Despite the fact that this Western-centric interpretation of the concept has been discussed and disputed for centuries- notably and quite wonderfully by the 17th century philosopher, Baruch/Benedict Spinoza, who maintained that the there was no such thing as ‘eternal’ Chosen-ness- it persists in our conceptualization of the ‘right order’ of things.

Spinoza’s idea of god was one that is abstract and impersonal- and therefore equally indifferent to all people, regardless of tribal/religious/political affiliation. To him, being the Chosen of this god was something that is experiential and socially constructed- and therefore subject to change outside of its originating historical/geographical/temporal context.

I like Spinoza’s thinking (he also wrote about good and evil as relative concepts. The dude had it going on).

Thematically linked, these two great programs speak to the origins of one of the acts of insanity that is happening right now. Just one. And it’s one about which I tend to speak with heightened awareness of the volatility of the subject matter.

Another, recent, episode of The Current spoke about the media-handling of the current conflict- and whether or not there are biases at play that make it impossible to develop a clear picture of what is actually happening. Everything about the situation leads to contention and accusations against those who hold differing opinions.

I won’t share mine. I don’t, as a rule, discuss the politics of this particular region. There is generally too much emotional investment at play- and that emotion is all-too-frequently sourced in something other than a complete understanding of the history of the region. I don’t claim to have anything like a complete understanding of the history of the region, but mine is certainly more comprehensive than most.

And I don’t see an end. I can’t see an end. Not when all sides (and there are far more than just two sides in this conflict) base their claims and perspectives in ideological constructs that have no place in a civilized, humanistic world.

None. At all.

I don’t often really look at the search terms that seemingly bring people to this page, but one sort of jumped out at me, recently, for a few reasons and raised some questions:
1) Why is someone looking to get rid of a Mesopotamian demon?
2) What, content-wise, in any of my posts, might lead a search engine to think that I am offering advice on how to get Pazuzu gone?
3) Who, other than students of Ancient Near Eastern mythology and/or super-fans of The Exorcist franchise even knows who Pazuzu might be?

Side note: I quite like Pazuzu- he’s a pretty groovy fictional personification of evil- pretty high up there in the pantheon of cool demons- and I’m not sure why he needs to be exorcised.

If, in this case, we look to Pazuzu- an Assyrian/Babylonian demon king- as an example of the metaphorical personification of things that humans found troubling at one point in time (to the Mesopotamians he embodied the southwestern wind that brought storms/locusts and drought/famine to the area), as the metaphorical personification of something I find troubling in this time (the imposition of outsider mores/values/beliefs without understanding of the indigenous order of things), I’m all for getting him exorcised the hell outta here.

But, like all things that stem from those worldviews that originate in the Ancient Near East, it’s never that cut-and-dried. The foundational dichotomy of the area wasn’t based in relative good and evil (as people like Spinoza describe it) but in order and chaos- and tools of chaos were often used to prevent the onslaught of MORE chaos.

In addition to being feared as the bringer of the foul southwest wind, Pazuzu was also invoked to combat the power of his rival goddess- Lamashtu. He is a force of chaos, but as the king among demons he is useful to humanity as a protector against other, different, evils.

Lesser of two evils, indeed. Although he was, in fact, the greater of a whole bunch of evils- as far as the pantheons of such superstitions organized these things.

So perhaps he- and all his ilk- do need exorcising, after all.

I keep thinking about one of my Mum’s favourite adages: Two wrongs don’t make a right.

Fighting wrong by doing wrong- and using the tools of ‘evil’- is never the right thing to do.

Something to keep in mind, regardless of which side of any particular conflict in which you might be ideologically and/or emotionally invested.

It’s the beginning of the August long weekend/Civic Holiday- ‘Simcoe Day’, here in TO.  The Caribbean Festival is in full swing, demonstrating, as it does every year, the strong multicultural community about which we can be proud- while we remind ourselves how fortunate we are to live in a place where ideological differences can, generally, be resolved without violence.

A little optimism- and music- is therefore in order.

(Especially if you’ve managed to stick with me all this way- I think the writer’s block might be gone.  Sheesh.)

U2.  A tune about different sides standing together, inspired by the Polish solidarity movement.

Under a blood-red sky
A crowd has gathered in black and white
Arms entwined, the chosen few
The newspaper says, says
Say it’s true, it’s true…
And we can break through
Though torn in two
We can be one.

I… I will begin again
I… I will begin again.

Apparently, the distinctive bassline of the classic tune came about as a result of Adam trying to suss out the chords to this song:

One man on a lonely platform, one case sitting by his side,

Two eyes staring cold and silent,

Shows fear as he turns to hide. We fade to grey.

In times of fear and uncertainty we have a tendency to slip into grey areas- that can lead to actions that reflect the darkness of our human nature and end up desensitizing us to the bombardment of bad news that is everywhere.  It becomes hard to find perspective and embrace the good stuff that continues to happen in spite of the terror and hatred that stem from adherence to ideologies that promote separation and ascendency of one side to the detriment and destruction of others.  Ideologies that are followed, blindly, without any awareness of origin or the political maneuvering that has kept them on our collective human radar.

That lack of awareness is causing anomie and existential separation and is crippling all us citizens of the world.

in the paper today
tales of war and of waste
but you turn right over to the T.V. page

Still:

Hey now, hey now
Don’t dream it’s over
Hey now, hey now
When the world comes in
They come, they come
To build a wall between us- We know they won’t win.

We’re all in this together.  Happy Long Weekend, Peeps!

The Devil’s Music

I have such a love/exasperated (can’t say ‘hate’- I ‘d never hate them) relationship with U2.  They have made some of my favourite music.  Seriously.  So many of their songs figure prominently in the continually developing soundtrack that is my life.  But man, some of the stuff that comes out of Bono’s mouth these days…

The other day Pete Yorn- a fabulous singer-songwriter who I follow on the Facebook (seriously, check him out.  Great stuff)- was asking people to name their fave U2 song.  It got me thinking.  There are a whole lot of great ones to choose from.  As I say, they are a formative/foundational band in the development of my youthful love of music.

This one is near the top:

‘Don’t believe the Devil, I don’t believe his book’

Sure, the song is (at least partly) about the unauthorized biography/biographer of John Lennon, but the imagery of the devil and ‘his’ book is just tootoo apt, in my humble opinion.  The creators/recorders/redactors of the mythology, theodicy, rules and rituals of diverse and often-disparate biblical literature assigned a whole load of culpability to one figure- and those minions who chose to follow him in rebellion.

‘But the truth is not the same without the lies he made up.’

We use the devil to illustrate the opposite of what is ‘right’ and proper.  Without him- and the many ‘wrongs’ he manages to consistently and continually tempt us to execute- we have a great deal of difficulty determining proper course.

It isn’t enough that we have long lists of things we are supposed to be doing- whether those things are mandated by religious command or communal laws and consensus- we are, apparently, so easily influenced that we require constant and ever-changing (these things are culturally relative, after all) examples of ways not to behave.

These bad things are fluid to a ridiculous degree.  Unlike the larger prohibitions that are written into our legal systems- the big stuff like murder, theft, property damage (although even these things can be ‘condoned’ in specific- generally politicized- circumstances)- elements of our morality are subject to change according to the times and the ideology that holds the most power at any given time.

These actions are most often associated with that Devil Dude.  If a particular group of people decides that, say, a type of music is the result of the persuasive intervention of an external entity messing with the ‘proper’ order of things, and if that group has money and power and the means to communicate this message of ‘evil’ to a community of followers… the Devil receives all credit for culpability of origin.  The behaviour comes to be associated with him- and as something that is directly in opposition to his ‘good’ counterpart.

And if that type of music can also be associated with a marginalized group of people, then those people are also lumped in with the horned one and his disruption of all things good and ‘godly’.  As mores and tastes change and evolve, the music might eventually come to be regarded as ‘mainstream’- and acceptable to those who hold true to ‘strong values’- yet the stigma of association with the Big Baddy remains.

Labeling something as ‘evil’ or ‘against god’ gives its negative association an unreasonably long shelf life.  Those things that his detractors claim belong to the Devil are incredibly tenacious in their resonance across time and generations.

U2’s God Part 2 is an appreciative echo of John Lennon’s God.  In it, John deconstructed a whole passel of beliefs and constructs that he saw no need to hold onto as he remade himself as ‘John’- no longer the Dreamweaver, or the Walrus, or 1/4 of the Beatles.  Just John.  With Yoko.  Believing in the two of them- but not in the idols (religious and secular) he listed after declaring that ‘god is a concept by which we measure our pain’.

‘I don’t believe in magic
I don’t believe in I Ching
I don’t believe in Bible
I don’t believe in Tarot
I don’t believe in Hitler
I don’t believe in Jesus
I don’t believe in Kennedy
I don’t believe in Buddha
I don’t believe in Mantra
I don’t believe in Gita
I don’t believe in Yoga
I don’t believe in Kings
I don’t believe in Elvis
I don’t believe in Zimmerman
I don’t believe in Beatles‘

The song marked his new beginning as he let go of the trappings of the past to move in a new direction- one that would eventually lead to Imagine– and its beautiful vision of a world without religion, heaven or hell.  A world focused on this life- that we spend here together on this big ol’ rock in that we call ‘Earth’ for the duration of our lifetimes.  The song remains timeless in its simple beauty- both for its music and its message.

That guy knew.

(Short aside here- again with the links and connections that I keep harping on… As I write I have Forrest Gump on in the background- 20th anniversary of that movie.  How did THAT happen?  Where has the time gone?- and it’s just at the scene where Forrest is on Dick Cavett’s show with John- ‘inspiring’ him to write Imagine.  Weird).

And then there’s this:

‘I believe we’re not alone
I believe in Beatles
I believe my little soul has grown
And I’m still so afraid…

What made my life so wonderful?
What made me feel so bad?
I used to wake up the ocean
I used to walk on clouds
If I put faith in medication
If I can smile a crooked smile
If I can talk on television
If I can walk an empty mile
Then I won’t feel afraid
No, I won’t feel afraid
I won’t be Be afraid
Anymore’

Bowie recorded that song for his 2002 album, Heathens.  Since much of it was written and produced after the attacks of September 11, 2001, most of the album illustrates the pervasive anxiety felt across the country and around the world in the immediacy of the aftermath of the terror.

He has said that the album in its entirety is one of deep questioning- hence its title and the subject matter of many of its songs.  He stated in interviews that it was reflective of our collective trauma but that he wasn’t seeking to resolve the trauma.

Great songwriters do that- as they play the Devil’s Music.  They reflect and comment upon our experiences and sometimes even posit new directions that might make a difference to our overarching existence as human beings.

Gods and devils are both concepts which we use to measure our pain.  As metaphorical markers they have value.  Our earliest attempts to understand our world use story and metaphor.  We learn- and teach- using universal concepts that resonate with us because of their apparent immutability and simplicity.

‘Good’ is better than ‘Evil’.

Pretty easy, right?

Too bad the simplicity is always complicated by greed and politics and power plays.  This inevitability is part and parcel of our human nature.

So.  If John Lennon, David Bowie and U2- and all those who came before and after them- are playing the Devil’s Music there’s even more reason to appreciate the Horned One, if you ask me.  He obviously wields some mighty influence leading to incredible songs that are also expressions of our human nature.

Sometimes you have to take the bad with the good.  Unfortunately just what fits into which designation isn’t always all that easy to discern.

Musicians contribute their voices to the battle for the maintenance of the goodness and rightness of our humanity, often speaking out against governmental and other power-based inequities and wrong-doing.

I’ve said it before.  I’ll likely say it again.

Music.  And Science.  Both associated with the Devil.  Both often running counter to the accepted traditions/norms that fight change in favour of clinging to obsolete ways of viewing our world.

I think there are patterns forming hereabouts…

 

Songs for this long weekend

I realize that it isn’t an official long weekend, but I’m making it one by taking Monday off, so I’m getting a real head start by thinking about its soundtrack.  Got lots going on over the next few days, so I will need some good tunes to keep the energy level high and raring to go.

The temperatures are starting to drop (not that they’ve been all that up there this particular summer) and the evenings and mornings are starting to have the feel of August Camp.  You know, those mornings when you were a camp counsellor and would have to force yourself out of your warm cot and the many layers of clothing you were wearing to avoid hypothermia and go down to the lake to swim laps in order to avoid having to put $2 in the swim jar?  You know what I’m talking about.

Since 1879 the Canadian National Exhibition, on the shores of Lake Ontario, has marked the winding down of summer here in T.O.  When the Ex came to town you knew autumn was just around the very next corner, school was starting soon and it was time for one last piece of Summertime.

There are rides, of course- until the 1990s, visitors would risk life and limb riding the Mighty Flyer (‘rickety’ doesn’t begin to describe it) on Conklin’s Midway and the Polar Express still blasts its rock n’ roll songs (in my memory it was always Aerosmith) as you spin past the big white bears and answer the barker’s call of ‘Are you ready to go backwards?’ with a resounding ‘You betcha!’

The Horticulture Building beckoned, as something slightly more educational/in keeping with the agricultural origins of the Fair, with its wonderful blooms that would make my sinuses close and eyes swell up within a matter of minutes.  That’s actually where I first discovered that I’m pretty violently allergic to lilies.   Good times.  It’s a cheesy, douche-baggy club, now, but the building is still lovely.

Every summer the Princes’ Gates on Strachan Ave. welcome visitors in impressive Beaux-Arts style, with a triumphant Winged Victory atop the main arch.  She holds a maple leaf in one hand to assert her Canadian identity and role as greeter to one of the best traditions of the town.

I won’t make it to the Ex this year- though not because people seem to be getting sick from something they’ve been eating (the cronut burger seems to be the most likely culprit, but nothing definitive has been discovered as of yet).

The Food Building was a dreamy destination back in the day.  Everything was super-cheap and they had treats on offer that we never really saw at other times of year.  Sure, there are still all kinds of crazy varietals of interesting foodstuffs to be had, but they’re no longer cheap.

And some of the offerings are just plain insane.  Deep fried butter was the go-to trendy item a few years ago.  This year the popular ones are (or were- food poisoning fears and all) the cronut burger- approximately a billion calories and a strange (to my mind anyway) combination of savoury and sweet; the peanut and bacon milkshake (when did bacon become the ubiquitous food that everyone insists is their favourite thing in the world?  Not that there’s anything wrong with bacon, I quite like bacon, but it has become an Interworld meme food of choice.  I think the Pig farmers/marketers are behind it all); and the s’mores-covered hotdog.

THIS is a cronut burger.

None of that really appeals, TBH.  Not because I’m a health nut or anything.  I’d just prefer not to harden ALL my arteries in one afternoon at the CNE.

Anyhoo.

The Grandstand (or the Canadian version of the ‘Mistake by the Lake’) was the stomping grounds of the Toronto Argonauts CFL team and the first home of our Toronto Blue Jays before the Big Dome got built.  Our often-intemperate climate made the sports a tad problematic at times (snow on the field during baseball games that had to be cleared by a Zamboni borrowed from the Leafs, for e.g.  Seriously.  That happened) and the wildlife and wind from the lake offered their own share of challenges (Dave Winfield- while with the Yankees- was arrested for killing a seagull with a baseball.  Again, I kid you not).

Most of my associations with the Ex have to do with the Grandstand and the great (and the not-so-great- looking at you Bon Jovi, 1989.  We went because we had free tickets- a guy we knew had bought a whole passel of them because he figured it was the big ticket show that year and that he would make tonnes of cash scalping them to all those unfortunates who didn’t stand in line for them.  Like he did.  Apparently he misjudged the appeal of those particular Jersey Boys, so he ended up giving them away.   We went as a joke, I swear!  Although Skid Row- and taunting the Jon-loving rocker chicks sitting in front of us- and all around us, for that matter- was pretty amusing.  There was A LOT of hairspray and spandex in evidence that night.  Wow, this was a really long tangent.  Getting the train of thought back on track now) shows I saw there over the years.  It was a pretty great outdoor venue, and the tickets were cheapcheap, for the most part.

I saw SO many bands there, and the playlist on the Shuffle Daemon this weekend will be a stroll down memory lane paying tribute to some of those shows played at the grand ol’ Grandstand (whether or not they happened during the Ex proper, the Grandstand was all about the open air and the music by the lake.  Something about great tunes and lake breezes and a sky full of stars.  Heavenly).

September 4, 1983.  Bowie.  Serious Moonlight tour.  Sublime.  That’s all I have to say about that.

September 3, 1987.  Double bill.  Echo and the Bunnymen and New Order (and Gene Loves Jezebel, but I think we got there after their set.  Don’t remember it anyway).  Brit-tastic.

May 26, 1987.  The Cult.  And Billy Idol.  Wow.  The energy could have rendered Toronto Hydro obsolete (except for the electricity needed to power the show, so never mind.  Failed analogy).

October 3, 1987.  U2.  Joshua Tree tour.  This one was extra awesome- we had obstructed 1st-level seats and ended up moved to the floor!  Bono had dislocated his shoulder and performed with a sling.  My friend’s Mum got us the tickets.  You had to get a bracelet one day and go back the next.  One bracelet was good for 6 tickets.  She had her infant daughter in a stroller and someone in line suggested she get a bracelet for baby V.  We ended up with 12 tickets!  Great crowd of us.  Perfect Autumn night.  Although there was a tragic suede cowboy boot/peach schnapps incident, if I remember correctly.  The only fly in the otherwise flawless ointment.

June 9, 1988.  Depeche Mode.  The fourth (?) time I’d seen them.  They thrive in outdoor venues.  They’re at the Amphitheatre next weekend.  Sad I’ll be missing them.

August 6, 1988.  INXS.  Perhaps not quite as special as the show at Massey Hall the week that Kick was released, but Michael Hutchence was always on fire onstage.  An amazing showman.

I’ll finish the playlist with this one:

Thompson Twins Into the Gap tour.  It remains one of my favourite shows, and one of my sentimental favourite songs.  August 24, 1984.  29 years ago tomorrow.

Soundtrack of summers past.

I’m going to make the most of what’s left of this one.

Happy weekend!

Moving On

Every once in a while I take a weekend and unplug completely.  This past week was pretty much the epitome of ‘working for the weekend’ (ah, Loverboy.  Where would we be without that particular concept?) and I honestly couldn’t watch anymore as the grief of the citizens of Lac Mégantic was broadcast across all news outlets while the owner of the train company not only refused to take responsiblity, he sounded like an arrogant sociopath once he finally deigned to comment on the situation.

As of Friday evening at 5pm, I turned off and tuned out for the duration.

Nice to have the break, but I missed a whole whack o’ news- little of it good:

The Zimmerman verdict down there in the States represents yet another violation of anything resembling justice.

A young Canadian actor was found dead in his hotel room from a (likely) drug overdose.

The waste of youth, talent and potential in both cases is tragic- if for different reasons.

Both will prompt all kinds of discussion in the coming days. On Moyers and Company Lauren Feeney and Eric Boehlert discussed the media frenzy around the trial, how the story went from being about the tragic killing of Trayvon Martin to the ‘Zimmerman Show’- and the conservative ‘news’ groups that viewed him as some kind of persecuted innocent (!).

I imagine that greater minds than mine with more knowledge of the American system of (in)justice will try to make some sense of the travesty.  I can do little more than add my dismayed voice, in whatever small way, and shake my head at the ‘one step forward, two back’ social reality evinced by the US over the past month.

I admit that I watched the first season of Glee.  There was an energy to it that was attractive- and the flashback song selections were pretty fun.  Sort of lost the plot as it went on- and as we started to see less of Sue (who was awesome)- but I appreciated the talents of the actors/singers on the show.  In comparison to the endless selection of ‘talent’ competitions, Glee offered some real musical theatre in an entertaining one-hour format, and Finn was at the heart of the whole shebang.

Not being all that tapped into much infotainment, I wasn’t aware that Cory Monteith struggled with addiction.  31 is too young to exit this world- especially for someone of talent and support.  Sad.

All this waited to be discovered when I turned the computer/tv back on this afternoon.

But before I did so… as part of my hiatus, I went for a good long walk yesterday.  It was a glorious weekend- especially after the, um, extreme weather we had last week.  We took the storm- and the clean-up and aftermath- in relative stride.

The Indy was in town- always interesting for the crowds it brings to the downtown core.  And there were the usual festivals, community parties and special events that make Toronto such an awesome place in which to hang out in the summertime.  LOVE this place in the summer.

Anyhoo.  While out for my walk, the Shuffle Daemon was at it again.  This time it seemed to be anticipating the fact that I’d need a reminder that sometimes the bad stuff- even when it’s really really bad- has to be put behind us and we just need to keep on keeping on.

Perhaps the iPod was tapped into the fact that I had just been thinking about story and song, and Papa Nez, because the first song to come up was a country/southern-rock classic:

That song never ceases to put a smile on my face.  The idea of just rolling with things and moving on as the spirit takes you… something that I find so very hard to do.

Then:

Running on Empty.

Same type of message, but Jackson Browne describes one of the key things I try to keep in mind in my life:  “Gotta do what you can just to keep your love alive- trying not to confuse it with what you do to survive.”

The frenetic pace that he describes in the song reminds us that we need to both keep moving on and stop every once in awhile and appreciate those things that are most important.

Further good advice from Billy Joel came next:

Working/worrying oneself into heart attack (ack ack ack ack ack)- so not worth it.  It’s all about priorities and perspective.

This one hurt my heart:

Although it was in keeping with the whole keep on moving theme that the Daemon had going, and despite the fact that INXS remains one of my fave bands, the tragic death of Michael Hutchence (also too young) always casts a bit of a cloud over their fantastic songs.

Still, Just Keep Walking, from their first album, when they were (ridiculously) young and hopeful, frequently reminds me to keep my head down and move forward regardless of the difficulties thrown in my path.

U2 always seems to weigh in:

Walk On is about Burmese pro-democracy leader Aung San Suu Kyi and the more than 20 years she spent under house arrest as a result of her fight for her country’s freedom.  On a universal level, it talks about leaving behind baggage while taking only what is most important as the fight requires a change in locale or perspective.

And, because the Shuffle Daemon has a sense of humour (and because I have rather strange eclectic taste in music):

Who better than Kermit and Fozzie to demonstrate that moving it along is about adventure and companionship- and those we might chance to meet on the way.

Sometimes you just have to let things go and shift gears/change scenery/take a break from the known and breathe in the new.

These six story songs illustrate the concept wonderfully.  Although we can, and should, get caught up in the dailies and the important issues of the world, sometimes we have to shake it off and go in a different direction.

It is important to be aware of and engaged with the terrible stories that happen with way too much frequency.  Our access to communication requires that we not ignore the injustices and atrocities.  The stories- well-examined and evaluated- must spur us into action to counter the wrongs that we find contained within them.

Sometimes, though, it’s necessary to move on.  Becoming mired in the negative leads to anomie and apathy.  Being bombarded by the bad, it is hard to find the good.

And there is very good to be found.  Our stories continue- regardless of how some might try to silence the inspirational voices among us.

Malala knows- and our songwriting storytellers remind us (through the medium of ‘possessed’ iPods)- that the status quo is always subject to change.

A hopeful note on which to start a new week.