Butterfly, Haresfleid Beacon

[Photo taken by me in June 2007, near Haresfield Beacon.]

Periodically over the last 10 years or more, and more intensely perhaps over the last few months, I have been driven to ask the big questions. The whole – is there anything out there? what does it all mean? does it all actually mean anything? – the God questions.

Until this year, each time, the answer has been – well, actually no.

This year, the answer has been more a kind of – well obviously now that you think about it, all those old patriarchal religions are cultural and not True, but actually there is more to it than this. Is there anything else out there? Is there a Goddess? Is there Magyck? Is there, perhaps, none of the above but still a satisfying mythology to which a woman can attach her sense of the numinous?

And now, all at once, it comes to me. Fully formed, almost.

There is no True mythology that’s worth Believing in – no matter how satisfying it may be in terms of story-telling and soul-pleasing. Which is to say, that if I like to hear the stories and if I like to understand the mythology and if I like to join in the celebrations; if I find all this useful and satisfying because it helps me to create a palatable alternative to the crap ideology that is all modern culture has to offer me – that doesn’t mean it is True or that I Believe in any real sense.

I don’t and can’t. But that doesn’t make me feel disappointed, as some other time I might have been. Because I have had a revelation of my own and I guess what this all means is that suddenly I know what to call myself.

I am a nature worshipper.
Just a simple nature worshipper.

A creationist, if you will: because creation is all around us, and that is what I have found to satisfy my sense of awe. From bacteria and butterflies to boulders and blue whales, from mice and maples to mountains and the moon, peonies and polar bears and people and planets… It’s not “someone” that made all this. But it is something. Some powerful, mysterious force that can draw forth delicately beautiful creatures from the depths of the ocean as if they were made especially to delight us. Some powerful, mysterious force that can tear down mountains with a convulsion underground. What could be more true? What could do more to merit awe?

What could be more satisfying than to strive for a sense of harmony with that force, what could make a person feel more alive? In spirit, I can soar with the hills, crash with the waves, blow like crazy in a thunderstorm. Hell, yeah.

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