The language of birds

(Nimue)

Most birds sing short songs and make a few additional sounds. With a little practise, a human listener can learn to identify birds from their calls. We can recognise alarm calls, territorial songs and signalling to potential mates. People have tended to think of birdsong as a rather basic and limited mode of communication. What we’ve not taken into account is that bird hearing is not human hearing. We are not the intended audience and we do not get the full message.

Modern technology makes it possible for us to pick up more of the complexity. There are notes too brief and subtle for us to recognise. Bird communication is more complex than we realised. Similar things are happening within our understanding of all the kindoms. There are conversations that are chemical, vibrational, electronic and more. Worlds exist beyond the limits of our senses.

Part of the problem here, comes from the stories we have been telling ourselves. Consider the creation myths that suppose the world to have been made for our benefit. Equally unhelpful is the story that positions us as the pinnacle of evolution. Science has been limited not only by what we can perceive and measure, but also by the belief that our perceptions define what is worth measuring. 

Research has been informed by the belief that other kinds of life are inferior to us. Plant consciousness was long considered a whacky idea, but that was a failure of our imaginations. The context here was that science was the domain of affluent white men. You don’t have to go that far back into science history to find those white men asserting that women and people of the global majority, were incapable of rational thought. For the scientists of old who thought that women were passive like plants, investigating plant intelligence would have seemed as pointless as investigating the thoughts of women.

Our understandings of the world are often more informed by story and belief than by evidence. Limiting stories like the ones I’ve mentioned, keep us from even looking for the truth. It matters that our stories are well informed.

As Druids, we will never speak the language of birds. We do not inhabit the same sensory world as them. However, we can honour the language of birds. There are wonders in the world far beyond our experiences. The life flowing around us does not exist to serve us, and yet we are part of it. We live inside this amazing cacophony, this dialogue of smell and energy, feeling and vibration.

There is extraordinary richness and we can treasure it, even when we do not hear the song and cannot understand the words.

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Contemplating success

(Nimue)

What does it mean to be successful? Modern consumer capitalism defines success in terms of ownership and having power over others. This notion of success informs aspirations, behaviour and political choices. The people who achieve success on these terms are treated as more important than those who do not.

We each get to decide how we measure success and what we thus aspire to. Our cultures may shape our beliefs but we all have the capacity to think for ourselves. If we collectively redefine success, then we might create a culture in which hoarding wealth while others starve, would be considered a shameful state of personal failure.

If success looked like personal excellence, then we would focus on what we do best and not on what might earn us most money. Scientists, thinkers and innovators would be of more interest to us than reality TV stars.

We might measure success in the vitality of our communities, in the breadth and depth of our relationships. Success could be understood in terms of how much love and kindness we are able to manifest during our lives.

We could define success in terms of the beauty we create or the joy we bring.

In the context of eco-crisis, success could be seen as saving and protecting life. A species brought back from the threat of extinction is a success story. A pollutant banned, a river restored, a forest protected. For me these are the kinds of successes that make the mere acquisition of wealth seem pathetic and pointless. Excess wealth destroys life.

I have no idea what happens to us when we die. However, I do very much like the ancient Egyptian image of the heart being weighed against a feather. I wonder how heavy the energy guzzling crypto currencies are? How much does a private jet weigh when a life is measured? Those who own least and have least power also do the least harm. Maybe success is a feather light life that leaves little trace?

The question of how to live well is one that has preoccupied philosophers ever since philosophy has existed. At this point, how to live well is not just an interesting question but a critical one for the survival of our species. At the moment we are collectively defining ecocide as human success.

If we want a future, we need a vision of success that isn’t so destructive. This is a shift we all have the power to contribute to.

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Joy and resistance

(Nimue)

There’s a meme that floats about online claiming that joy is resistance. On Saturday night I went to a Grace Petrie show where she outright questioned the idea. It is something I wanted to explore in more detail.

Joy is essential. You have to be for something, with ideas of what to move towards. Without that, resistance is just resisting, it creates nothing and the agenda is set by the people with the worst ideas. That doesn’t mean joy itself is a form of resistance.

To keep going in these difficult times we need joy. Happiness is essential for mental health and can give you the resources to keep going. Joy can make resistance more sustainable, but of itself, it still doesn’t seem to be doing the whole job. 

Resistance is not always joyful. You don’t always win. Setbacks can be disheartening and heartbreaking. Sometimes there really is no scope for joy. At that point you need courage and determination to pull you through.

There is a real risk that the main effect of saying joy is resistance is actually to reduce resistance. If you are focused on private, personal joy, what are you changing in the world? Being able to focus on personal joy is itself a pretty good indicator of privilege and comfort. People at the sharp end of climate disaster and political evils do not have the luxury of seeking joy. They are struggling to survive.

There is however, a way in which joy as resistance can be a meaningful choice. Community joy has the potential to be much more radical and transformative. Building community, builds resilience and makes a firm base from which to organise. Community joy can thus be helpful. When we come together in a joyful way, we can connect, empathise and feel more kindly towards each other. We can break down barriers and challenge fear and prejudice. For this to really work, your community joy needs to reach out as widely as it can. Little is gained by getting a bunch of privileged people into a space to pat each other on the back while changing nothing. 

Joy is important, but if you aren’t working to change something then joy alone is not resistance. Being happy by being able to temporarily insulate yourself from the woes of the world is part of the problem, not the answer. Seeking happiness by making the world a happier place for all living beings, would be truly radical. 

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Why is my blood sugar so high?

(Nimue)

I’m primarily writing this post for fellow diabetics, but the body insights might be of wider interest. For me, taking a thoughtful, evidence-led approach to life is also part of the Druidry.

When I first had the diagnosis, I was encouraged to watch for patterns. All of the guidance I had was food related, but my diet was broadly fine. The patterns I saw were not the ones I was expecting. The data suggested that food was not a major factor. Here is what I learned.

Panic and anxiety increase blood sugar. This is a well-known issue and is due to the effects of cortisol. Once I went on anti-anxiety meds, that dialled down, making other factors more visible.

When I eat, my blood sugar initially goes down. If I miss a meal, my blood sugar goes up. When I get very tired, my blood sugar goes up. I can bring it down by resting or sleeping. It goes up if I get very cold, putting the heater on will bring it down. Intense physical activity also gives me high blood sugar.

I talked to my diabetes doctor about some of this. He said that bodies anticipate demand. That is why people also have elevated blood sugar when ill.

My body constantly over estimates demand. On a biological level, I anticipate having to keep going when cold, tired, ill or hungry. This is not difficult to explain, as I spent most of my adult life obliged to keep working when I was seriously under resourced. My body now overreacts in face of demands.

My theory at this point, is that I need to retrain my entire body. I’m using blood sugar monitoring to work out when I need to be gentler with myself. I’m also using that data to try and plan better and be more realistic about the demands I make of myself. My thinking is that if I can avoid stressing my system so much, I can reduce those blood sugar highs. My hope is, that over time, getting this right will calm my system and help me stop overdoing the blood sugar.

If you are monitoring blood sugar and get highs you cannot explain in terms of diet, you might want to try watching for things like this. If there is a correlation to physical or psychological stress, then this will be related to your own life and could be very different from mine. Follow medical guidance to remove the more obvious causes first, and use your meds as guided. If you think something else is driving the highs, try mitigating it. Talk to your medical people about patterns that emerge for you. I’ve found that entirely worth doing. Diabetes is complicated and there seems to be a growing consensus that we do not understand the mechanics of it as well as we thought we did.

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Pronouns for nature

(Nimue)

The language we use informs how we think and feel. This means that changing language norms can help create cultural shifts and political perspectives. If this is an area of interest for you, then the key term to look up is ecolinguistics. There are books and courses available.

A great deal of the mistreatment of animals is underpinned by the idea that animals are basically just objects for use. When a creature is an it, a thing, or a unit of production, it is easier to present it as not really mattering. When a creature is presented instead, as a being who has feelings, we are more readily persuaded that they are worthy of respect. The language shift itself demands a different kind of conversation.

The same thing happens with trees. If we label it as lumber, then a tree is just a thing out of which we can make other things. Describe a tree as someone who has a different kind of life from a human but who is very much part of a community, and everything changes. We are now getting research into plant consciousness, but you have to imagine consciousness could exist before you might start looking for real signs of it. After all, we spent long enough trying to tell ourselves that animals do not feel pain.

At the moment we do not consider landscapes conscious. We do have evidence of consciousness in woodland. Interesting things happen when you don’t use objectifying language for landscapes. If a mountain or a river becomes a who, rather than a what, our perspectives shift. Who was your first mountain? Whose watershed do you live in?

Capitalism reduces everyone, people included, to resource status. We can use language to repersonalise the world and to shake off the crushing grip of commodification. If we can understand the world as living, inhabited, and inspirited, this opens the way to more care and less exploitation.

Changing the pronouns we use is easy enough and it’s a good place to start.

5

New Druidic language

(Nimue)

I’ve recently encountered some words that are new to me and that I am finding meaningful from a Druid perspective. I thought I’d share these in case anyone else wants to add them to their word hoard. Both of these words came to me via Robert Macfarlane’s book, Is A River Alive, which Keith is currently reading to me.

When we talk about different kinds of life, these are often referred to as kingdoms. Macfarlane shares the thinking of a fungi expert called Giuliana Furci, who instead favours the word kindoms. Biology contains all sorts of concepts that are underpinned by colonial attitudes. The idea of a plant kingdom or an animal kingdom is a case in point. This is feudal language based on systems of control and ownership.

Kindom on the other hand, speaks of relationship. By dropping one letter we can drop some patriarchal baggage and become more accurate. Fungi do not have kings, but they do have kin.

The second term comes from a writer called Thomas Berry, to whom Macfarlane makes reference. He gives us ‘inscendence’. I’ve never liked the idea of transcendence. I do not want to escape from the world or overcome it. My aim as a Druid is to be more in the world, to engage and connect. Inscending is the term for this. It means going deeper, going into the world. I find it easier to explore concepts when I have some way of framing them in the first place.

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Writing, blindness and science fiction

(Nimue)

This winter, I’ve been relearning how to type. While I had some vision improvement in the autumn, I was tending to hit the wrong keys a lot. Loss of depth perception doesn’t help and I’ve had some post cataract-surgery fuzziness as well. I never learned how to touch type. One of the sight impairment charities I’ve been talking to, recommended putting a few raised markers on keys to help me feel my way. Since doing that, my typing has improved.

I am still very dependant on Keith for proofreading and I haven’t learned where most of the punctuation keys are yet, but I’ll get there. Typing is very slow as I feel for each key, but you may have noticed that blog posts are getting a bit longer as I get the hang of typing blind.

The loss of sight has affected my writing process in an array of ways. Previously, being able to look at the words I’d put down already was part of how I developed ideas. Redrafting and editing are hard when you can’t read. I am incredibly fortunate in having a partner who is an excellent and experienced proof reader and editor. Keith is a very capable writer who not only understands what I’m doing but also believes in the value of it. His help has kept me going and we are figuring out more all the time.

It’s not an entirely one-sided thing, as I’ve been able to support and encourage Keith creatively too. We learn and grow together; which is a blessing in itself.

I’m still working out how to handle longer pieces with the aim of getting back into the books I was writing a year ago. It means holding a lot more material in my head, but I think that will be feasible with practice.

This week, I managed a 3,700 word sci-fi story for a Harvey Duckman anthology. This is the longest solo piece of writing I’ve managed in the last year. In it, I have drawn on many things I have learned from audiobooks recently. I had been coping with my limitations partly by telling myself that I was doing research for future stories. It feels good to be able to convert that hope into truth.

In getting back more of the writing, I feel more truly myself. Life is not easy for me, but persistence and determination are paying off. That in turn makes me more hopeful about getting to grips with other challenges too.

10

Solo voice magic

(Nimue)

Outside of folk clubs, it is unusual to hear unaccompanied solo singing. This is in many ways a shame, so I thought I would post about why it is a good thing.

Let’s start with the negatives. Solo singing isn’t easy. It is far easier to hold a tune when you have an accompaniment to keep you on key. Many people find that they need something, or someone else, doing the tune to help them keep going. This is actually about practice. Most of us can join in plausibly with a song we half know. To sing alone, you need to really have a much deeper knowledge of the tune. You have to internalise it and that’s simply a question of investing enough time. People new to solo singing often underestimate how much work it takes and this can be disheartening. If you can hold a tune with support then you can hold it alone, if you learn it thoroughly enough.

Singing solo feels very exposed. There’s no safety net, nothing and no one to cover for you if things go wrong. Everyone makes the odd mistake, the skill lies in knowing how to recover quickly from them.

If you can sing solo then you can sing anywhere and on demand. Not needing to have brought an instrument, not needing to amp a backing track is often an advantage. You never know when someone might want or need you to sing for them. Once people know you can do that, they do tend to ask and I’ve had plenty of unexpected performances asked of me in this way.

There is real magic in the raw, exposed vulnerability of an unaccompanied voice. It is such a primal, human thing to be able to offer. The human voice is the first instrument we had as a species and is the first thing most of us use to make music. The unadorned voice connects us to the natural world and to our ancestors.

When we sing alone, we are part of a history of voices so old and vast as to defy imagining. This is magical indeed.

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Nature, sugar and life

(Nimue)

Eating is one of the most natural and fundamental processes we modern humans regularly engage in. Through food, we are connected with other beings, with landscapes, water cycles and the sun as the source of all life. Food connects us with cultures, tradition and ancestry. We are also encountering the long history of cultivation and crop selection. We are eating the consequences of a system built on a desire for profit, not health. Sugar is at the heart of this.

My diabetes diagnosis lead me to learn more about food and nutrition. That in turn led me to books about both our own microbes and the life of the soil. I learned a bit about modern farming and food production. These are all huge topics and if you have the time I can recommend digging in. I wanted to share a few of the things I’ve learned that struck me as being especially important.

Druidry is often associated with honouring the sun. When plants photosynthesise they take that sun energy and turn it into sugar. This is the basis of most food chains. Sugar is the essence of life. Usually plants make complex long chain sugars. These we call carbohydrates, starch and fibre. 

With help from microbes all of this can be broken down into sugar which bodies can convert into energy or store as fat. 

In creating refined sugar we have come up with something our bodies get excited about but are not equipped to deal with. Our gut flora responds badly to refined sugar, we store it as fat and it messes us up in all sorts of ways.

I did not come to diabetes through the over consumption of sugar. Even so, when I got the diagnosis I opted to remove refined sugar from my diet. This was easy, as there wasn’t much to remove. My body adapted quickly, and my appreciation of sweetness in fruit increased. 

For a long time now, humans have selected food plants to be both larger and sweeter. The largeness represents more starch and a lower percentage of nutrients. This is because food production is profit driven. Given the implications for our health and our relationships with the living world, this uneasy area of study may be relevant for anyone following the Driud path.

5

The Accidental Animist

(Keith)

Over the course of my life, I have drifted towards Druidry and paganism. Not necessarily consciously, and only in more recent years has it become obvious to me.

Regular readers of this blog will know that I recently acquired an Awen tattoo in recognition of my tentative steps along my own bard path.

This awareness and acknowledgement has mostly been down to the influence of my partner Nimue Brown (whose blog this is, and who very kindly lets me contribute every so often when I have something to share.)

Recently, she has pointed out to me that I am definitely an animist, which was news to me, being very much a science-y sorta guy. To be fair, I have always acknowledged animals and living things have an inherent spirit, a life force, and I have always respected that. I have rescued mice from boxes, helped free trapped birds, carefully helped spiders to safer places and I open the window for flies rather than squashing them. (Although, I have to admit this careful approach lapses when it comes to mosquitoes. Any small thing that is so belligerent as to attack something many times its size, deserves a permanent life lesson.)

But animism, as you will be aware, goes way beyond just animals. It encompasses rivers, trees, weather systems, plants, fungi and even rocks, as examples. To an animist, they all have a spirit, a soul.

This has always been a step too far for my conscious mind, rocks having a spirit? A soul? Then Nimue pointed something out to me. Let me explain.

I think I am somewhat clumsy. Probably no more or no less clumsy than anyone else, but I think I also tend to rush things, which obviously makes the clumsiness worse.

I will drop things, not put something down in a sensible place, stack things unwisely, trip over things that I should have noticed, bump into door handles, hit my head on the cooker hood and so on.

Today, for example, seemed to be “National Drop Cutlery on the Floor Day.” Earlier I touched the handle of a bread knife overhanging the worktop and sent it cartwheeling across the kitchen and onto the floor. Then later, I picked up a bowl knocking the spoon within it as I did so – again, it ended up on the floor.

These incidents have led me to the profound belief that these objects are doing it on purpose. They all gang up on me. For some reason I have done them great wrong and they now take every opportunity to extract their revenge by falling to the floor, not doing what they are supposed to do, by attacking me, and by tripping me up.

As a result, I can often be heard to exclaim, “Inanimate objects hate me!”

Well, just the other day, after one of these regular exclamations, Nimue said, “You know that makes you a true animist, don’t you?”

This made me stop and think, and you know, I guess she’s right. After all, if I believe that inanimate objects have taken against me, decided to extract some sort of deserved revenge, then they must have a spirit, a soul.

So, I guess this makes me a reluctant animist, an accidental animist.

(Nimue says I should try talking to objects kindly, and softly, instead of cursing them at every opportunity. She may well be right; cursing has never done me any good!)

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