[Note: I am turning off the comments on this particular post, for reasons you’ll likely see as it proceeds. If you want to engage in respectful dialogue on the matters I raise here, you can contact me via e-mail; otherwise, commenting on adjacent or other posts with your thoughts and responses about what is said here will not be looked upon kindly, and will result in deletion of your comments, and possible banning from future commenting. I do not expect anyone outside of the Ekklesía Antínoou to understand some of what is discussed here, nor the reasons behind and for certain changes that have occurred recently, and I even expect that some within the Ekklesía Antínoou may not fully understand some of these matters either; but, it isn’t for others to understand, and circumstances do not require anyone’s understanding of these things other than myself. I am under no compulsion to share these things, and am doing so out of a genuine and responsible sense of accountability to the people who have trusted me enough to invest me with the leadership of this particular group for the period I used to hold it. As I am no longer in that position, and never will be again (and this is most certainly for the better and for the good of all, including and especially Antinous and our other Deities, which is always and ever my foremost concern, in the roles I have held in the past and in the roles I still hold and intend to continue holding), I am no longer accountable in this regard, and so this is my final act as Magistratum of the Ekklesía Antínoou, to share what I’ve seen and heard and experienced, and to turn things over to people who are better than I am to continue carrying out the work of representing the group and directing its activities–and, I welcome and rejoice at these prospects, and to assisting in whatever capacity I am allowed to in the future with that forward movement. No matter who you are–unless you are Antinous, which none of you are–your opinions on these things are simply not relevant, and thus there is no need for you to share them with me, nor for me to be aware of them; and understand that this is not stated to be offensive or to belittle anyone, it is simply the truth and the reality of what is applicable at present with this set of circumstances. If you do not understand and respect that such is the case, then I’d suggest re-evaluating your own spiritual priorities as soon as possible, as they probably arise from selfish entitlement more than they do anything of genuine utility to anyone other than your own self…and if there is nothing higher than your own self in your spiritual worldview and cosmological understanding, then your way of understanding religion is not remotely compatible with nor relevant to my own, and thus is even more irrelevant a matter on which to be attempting to inform me.]
*****
Antinous to Ananke: Hail I say, and Praises I give
to you, O Ananke, Goddess of Unavoidable Fate,
for the gifts you give to mortals and to the Deities,
and the blessings which you have given to me.
Because of you, I have been blessed with the knowledge
that today and what it brings is all I have.
Because of you, I have been favored with the insight
that the hands of the Fates and of Fate are not always predictable.
Because of you, I have been swept along by forces
that humans cannot fathom and by which Deities are bewildered.
Because of you, I have been unduly privileged
in that I have been able to play the roles that I have.
Because of you, I have been pleased
to continue on journeys unforeseen into the future.
Hail I say, and Praises I give, and Thanks I express and proclaim
to you, Ananke, to whom every Deity submits, willing or unwilling!
Ananke: And praise to you, Antinous!
I give you the award which few attain in life or death:
contentment with what you have been given and how you have acted with it!
Antinous (and all): Hail, Praise, and Thanks to you, Ananke!
*****
After hemming and hawing about these matters for more than a week now, I’ve decided that the only way to really and fully explain what has gone on in the last two weeks is to simply detail my entire experience at the World Parliament of Religions in Utah, focusing on the positive aspects (mostly) first, then some of the negative aspects, and finally detailing how the hands of the Fates have been at play in my life over that time period. Buckle in, this is going to get long…
[Some things never change, do they?]
Indigenous Wisdom
Though it was not the focus of the World Parliament of Religions this year, I have to say that my main positive take-away from the events I attended and the time I was present for it was twofold: 1) an immensity of respect and appreciation for all of the varied indigenous peoples, individuals, and presentations about the work of several such individuals that I was able to attend, along with some of their ceremonies; 2) a heightened sense of solidarity with them in their continued struggles for legal recognition, full rights under the law in the U.S. and more widely, and as fellow walkers on paths that are rich in animist and polytheist elements that have far more points of contact with my own path than any other religion, including most forms of what would be called “modern Paganism.”
I was not able to attend the full extent of the Parliament, given that I had to work on the 15th, and could not get a flight until later in the evening, which got me to Salt Lake City just after midnight on Friday, and to my hotel before 1 AM that night. This meant that I missed not only the opening ceremony of the Parliament, but also the Inaugural Women’s Assembly that was held for most of the day on Thursday, and also the “Pagans at the Parliament” event that night. For all that I’m glad that the Parliament did have a women’s assembly, I am superlatively disappointed in some other things that I heard in the process…not to mention that having the women’s assembly and then *officially* beginning the Parliament doesn’t feel like a gesture toward inclusion and equity so much as it feels like marginalization amidst inclusion, or a very ham-fisted attempt at inclusion while still indicating that another gender is the significant and ascendant one. Indeed, from what I understand, eight men in suits constituted the opening plenary, and despite calls for women’s participation, nothing was done. This is a travesty, and one of many things about the Parliament that I think needs serious reconsideration, and deserves no small amount of vocal and harsh critique. Merri-Todd said it better than anyone I’ve heard in a while, that women are powerful and are deeply feared amongst the ranks of certain conservative social and religious elements, including many that are major position-holders within the leadership and funding of the Parliament. Everything that gets “branded” with the “stigma” of being “too feminine,” including female-honoring worldviews and cosmologies (of which many of the indigenous ones are excellent examples) gets disrespected and marginalized as a default at such events, and the Parliament is no exception. I witnessed no small amount of that in both microaggressions toward others during the events that unfolded.
I would also add that the gender-dualism of the Parliament, across the entire board, was rarely (if ever) questioned and was routinely presented as a default. This certainly upset and annoyed me, as a gender-diverse person, but what even upset me more is that many of the indigenous cultures represented used to have gender-diverse roles beyond an assumed binary, and these were some of the first things taken from them when the “doctrine of discovery” despoiled them of their cultures. Some people I spoke with acknowledged this loss and this theft, but many others knew nothing of it, which is a sad state of affairs. Those who routinely spoke of “brothers and sisters” still put the male position forth first, and then attempted to look inclusive by mentioning the female, and yet ended up disrespecting both women and other gender-diverse roles in the process, by subordinating the first and erasing the second…and I suspect that 99% of the people who did so were not even aware that such was the case in their presentations and their words. The re-evaluation of these issues on a global scale, and especially within the emotionally- and significance-laden context of religion, needs to take such details of speech and the exact phrasings of words into account and consider what they reveal about the deep-seated inequalities and inadequacies of long-held and deeply-cherished modes of thought which have lead to innumerable injustices against women, as well as anything identified as being “too close” to what is considered feminine, up to and including (but not limited to) the queer, the non-white, the indigenous, the disabled, the animistic, the polytheistic, and any number of other such factors. I’ll have more to say on this below in subsequent sections.
Before I proceed too much further, I want to make something clear about the Parliament, which I did not understand when the 2009 Parliament took place, and though I did not hear the terminology used very much this time, nonetheless it needs to be understood before going forward. The attendees at the Parliament are often referred to as “delegates,” and when we were speaking with one another, terminology was often adopted which assumed our interlocutors were “representing” a particular religion, group, or denomination. While each of these matters can be considered “true” for certain values of these terms, the “Parliament” was only a parliament in the sense that a great deal of “talking” occurred at it; “talking together” didn’t even always happen, unfortunately (on which, more later). Though there were “commitment books” and pledges and such which were signed and read out and affirmed and so forth, few if any of the major worldwide religious denominations adopted any resolutions or created any policy changes in relation to what occurred on this occasion; personal transformations may have occurred, or been encouraged to occur, but the very large religious institutions that still set policy and determine belief, and which are the sources of many of the problems that sessions at the Parliament attempted to address, were not and have not been changed, which makes some of what occurred there seem quite moot. The “delegates” were not nominated and duly sent by their communities in many cases; the majority of the more-than-nine-thousand attendees were self-selected people (often not even sent as official representatives of a given religious group) who could afford the rather steep fees to attend, and had the time off to do so. Though I am in that fortunate category myself (even though I had to do a fundraiser to be able to get sufficient resources to be able to afford it–and even beyond that, I’ll be on bread-and-water for the next few weeks because of it, and I didn’t overindulge in souvenirs, books, lavish dinners, or anything of the sort while I was there–I came with a limited amount of cash and didn’t spend all of it), we should not get any over-inflated notions of what it means to have attended the Parliament. It might have been a unique opportunity for a variety of individuals to attend, but it is not any particular “honor” or sign of distinction that someone was able to attend; literally anyone could have done so if they had the inclination, the time, the ability to get there, and (most importantly) the money for admission. Several people I know commented on how, despite deprivation of privilege in many areas of life, nonetheless it was an acknowledged privilege to be present at the Parliament in so many respects, and I fully acknowledge this in my own case as well.
The majority of the programming I attended was under the “indigenous” category, and I’ll detail some of those items more fully below. I considered attending a variety of other sessions, and did get to a few. On the first morning, I attended the discussion of a Zoroastrian thanksgiving ritual, but missed the ritual itself (due to being misdirected in the vast venue of the Salt Palace), sadly. On the second morning, I attended a session discussing the Jain practice of the snatra puja, and had some questions about Jainism answered in ways that no reading on the religion I’ve ever done previously has adequately addressed. I attended the #BlackLivesMatter session, as detailed elsewhere, amongst a group of Pagans and polytheists, though the content was primarily Christian. I ended up walking a labyrinth that was set up in one of the exhibit halls in the company of several priestesses of Isis, and after chatting briefly with them, later attended their session on modern worship of this Goddess, which had some interesting comments about the difficulties they’ve faced given that a certain terrorist bunch of shits better known as Daesh are commonly called “ISIS” by the ignorant media. I also attended the session on reconstructionist forms of polytheism (note, there was no “polytheist” track, nor a polytheist tag, in any of the Parliament materials, and thus this session was listed as “Pagan”) that was organized by Diana Paxson, and included Archdruid Kirk Thomas, Erynn Rowan Laurie, EliSheva, Gwendolyn Reece, and Robert L. Schreiwer (and you can read Erynn’s perspective on the whole thing here), and likewise enjoyed a dinner with this august group plus the ever-resourceful Lorrie Wood on Saturday night. I spent a great deal of time outside of other events with Erynn and EliSheva, on the latter of which more later. I also attended Crystal Blanton and T. Thorn Coyle’s session, which was a restorative justice circle, and likewise enjoyed dinner with them and the other Solar Cross Temple presenters–Elena Rose and Jonathan Korman–plus a variety of others on Sunday night. I saw and greeted various pagans I knew previously for a very brief moment (e.g. Selena Fox, Peter Dybing, Ivo Dominguez, Jr.), and talked with some of them extensively when time allowed (e.g. Don Frew), and I met a few new ones, including Annika Mongan, who I only saw on the first day I was there after meeting her by chance at the indigenous fire circle before everything started. I also met Claudiney Prieto very briefly, and we talked a bit about Antinous since he is also a worshipper of him–I must get to Brazil at some point, as Antinous is pretty popular there!
As I walked the halls, I tried (and nearly always succeeded!) in looking at and greeting, nodding at, or saying hello to as many passing people as possible, especially if they were looking at me. I was mostly greeted by warm smiles, if nothing else, in return, but I was also outright ignored by a great many people. I have to say, this shaped who I chose to interact with and what events I ended up attending. I did not get a single visual response from any Sikhs present, and thus I did not go to the langar they offered (plus, I didn’t want to wait that long for food, and from what I understand, it was spicy even by normal people’s standards, which would mean by my standards it would be inedible). The Asian Buddhists also seemed to look deliberately in the other direction when I passed by them. A few Hindus took pictures of me (several without asking), and one orange-robe-clad one seemed so happy to see me when he looked at the peacock feathers in my fez that he asked if he could bless me, and got someone to take a photo of him doing so. His blessing only consisted of saying “Om, om, om,” and he retrieved his camera and left without further acknowledgement after the photo was taken, before I could ask him if he was a worshipper of Skanda, Saraswati, or Krishna such that he found my peacock feathers worthy of notice. A Seattle-area American Sufi with some friends in common with me spoke with me on the last day, in the last hour that I was on the Parliament grounds, but that was almost the entirety of my contact with anyone Islamic. One other (I presume) Muslim who came up to me and asked me what religion I was then asked what the Ekklesía Antínoou is, and I replied (as I generally did to those few who asked) “a modern polytheist religion,” he turned and left without another word. I had to explain what polytheism was to a number of people (mostly Americans), and the reactions ranged from amazement to bemusement to varying levels of contempt.
In a post responding to mine from a few weeks ago, John Halstead said of the Parliament:
You might think that all the talk at the Parliament was about what we have in common. While there was plenty of talk about oneness and harmony, there was an equal amount talk about our diversity and our uniqueness. For five days members of these diverse religions not only co-existed, but created community together. They did this, not by ignoring each other, not by being silent, but by continuing the conversation. They sought first to understand before they sought to be understood. They asked questions. They were genuinely curious. They spoke with the goal, not of ending the conversation, but continuing it.
I honestly wonder if John was at the same Parliament I was. I know he was, because I saw him at one point, across the circle behind several other people at one of the indigenous ceremonies around the fire outside, but he did not stick around for it–if he had, I certainly would have said hello, and thanked him for assisting me to get there. The majority of people that I met incidentally and I dealt with who weren’t presenters did not seek “first to understand before they sought to be understood,” they were very eager to tell me about how great their religion is, how important their viewpoint on a given matter under discussion is, and various other details. If they happened to ask any questions of me, I was happy to answer them, but I did not volunteer information about myself or my religious practices unless and until I was asked by someone–it did not seem to be to be right nor respectful to do so, and I’ll say more on that in subsequent sections of the present post as well. But I did all possible to remain cheerful, approachable, and courteous. That very few people reciprocated those courtesies was a disappointment to me, certainly.
One interaction stood out to me for its utmost respect and atypical character. I had seen a young man in a bowtie the day before, inquiring at the Inclusive Heathenry booth (which became something of a hub for several of my good friends and associates), and the following day, while I was sitting at the open tables near that booth to have the snack which was my lunch, he approached me and asked if he could discuss what “metagender” means. I was immediately impressed with the fact that this young man had done his research (!?!–such a rare and precious thing!), and I inquired about his background. It turns out he is LDS (i.e. Mormon) and is involved in youth interfaith organization, and is working toward making interfaith interactions a requirement in schools, which I think is an interesting prospect. We had a chat about what being metagender means, as I’ve defined it, and he asked many good follow-up questions. He had clearly read the present website/blog, and it actually re-assured me that there is going to be hope in the world with the next generations coming up. If you happen to be reading this, you of the very unique name (I shall preserve his anonymity for the present since I have not been given permission to do otherwise), I want to thank you again for providing me with one of the most memorable and unexpected moments at the Parliament, and I look forward to the possibility of being in further contact at some stage, if it would be useful for you to do so! ;)
One of several reasons I was looking forward to my attendance at the Parliament was because it would allow me a chance to hang out further with my elder and tribal ally via the Communalia ritual, EliSheva. Because of our interactions at the last PantheaCon and some things which emerged from them, I presented her with a small statue of Qadesh when I first saw her. She did not have her lots with her this time, but nonetheless she gave me a reading on Sunday afternoon, using two lava stones and a vessel of water, and it was a much more shamanistic and primal sort of reading involving insights from the Ancestors than what would usually happen with a lot casting, but no less important and effective for all of that. The exact further details of the reading are not for anyone else to know, but nonetheless I will comment that there is a great deal to chew on for the future, and for the immediate periods to come, based on much of what was mentioned. We probably were able to hang out more on those few days than we have been able to at any other time previously, and I’m grateful for every moment of having been able to do so.
And, it is here that I can easily transition into talking about the specifically “indigenous” presentations, even though a great deal of what I mentioned previously–and especially any and all of my interactions with EliSheva–fall into that category, I think, in sympathy if not in definite actuality.
My interactions with indigenous peoples at the Parliament began even before things “officially” started. Soon after I got my name tag and registration packet, I headed out to the fire circle in the plaza outside the Salt Palace, which was one of the focal points for indigenous peoples’ activities throughout the weekend. I ended up spending a great deal of time there, and on that first morning, in the dark before dawn around 6 AM, I met Patrick of the Paiutes, who explained to me that he’d happily march under any Paiute flag and isn’t particular about whether he is Northern or Southern Paiute (though he’s Southern). He smudged me, and then instructed me how to make tobacco offerings around the fire in a four-directional manner. The fire circle was the idea of a Paiute-Shoshone holy man named Arnold Thomas (on whom more later), and was tended mostly by Paiutes from what I understand; I got to interact with Patrick quite a bit over the weekend, as well as a younger Paiute guy named Glenn, and I thank both of them for their service at the Parliament to the wider community. I brought some food with me on the second morning to share with them before dawn, and I think they were a bit surprised by that, but also appreciative. I started each day there, and on the last two days, was a bit later in arriving, which meant I was able to partake of the ceremonies that occurred on each of those days–I can’t recall who conducted the Sunday ceremony, but the Monday morning one was Mayan. (As I was making offerings in the morning, a short-haired woman who looked Native American–likely a Lakota, or someone at least familiar with Lakota traditions–looked at me and said “Uh-oh, look out, it’s a heyoka!”–and while this was a rather flattering thing for her to say, and it’s not the first time someone has suggested that in my presence, nonetheless I didn’t want to try and contradict her, because then that would only confirm that I am, in fact, a heyoka!) Later that day, after my own presentation, I went to the circle once more for purification and to make another offering to the land and the Ancestors. On the final day, I told both Glenn and Patrick individually that I think the fire circle was the real heart of the Parliament, even though most people attending might not have known about it or come to it, and it was one of the most important parts of the Parliament for me personally. The Wild Hunt has a photo of one of the ceremonies taking place at the fire circle, but I have to admit I’m hesitant to direct your attention to it, because it is kind of a sacrilege–people were repeatedly told not to take photos or recordings of the actual ceremonies which took place there, but many ignored this, and it seems such is the case with that particular photo. This type of disrespect of indigenous peoples’ customs and traditions, though, was de rigeur in many ways, no matter what the “intentions” of many people might have been. I heard several different First Nations presenters express that thoughts and intentions and feelings and words are absolutely useless, and it is actions that actually tell one what a person is, and with this I wholeheartedly agree.
The first major session I attended was a two-part one, on Friday and Saturday morning, called “Healing Our Hearts at Wounded Knee.” There were five presenters, but the three which stood out were Chief Arvol Lookinghorse, Audri Scott Williams, and Jean Fleury. Chief Lookinghorse told us about the 100 year anniversary of the massacre at Wounded Knee ride in 1990, where conditions were as cold as 80 below zero with windchill, and he rode with 300 other riders the same route as was ridden a hundred years before. When they reached the highway and the state patrol were there to escort them across and stop traffic, they asked him, “Who were those riders who already came by ahead of you?” There weren’t any–at least any who were physically incarnate at the time. Chief Lookinghorse speaks at the indigenous plenary which is given in the first video below. Audri talked about her Cherokee and West African heritage, and how her Ancestors eventually insisted she must do something, and she began walking for peace around the world. Jean Fleury is one of the main organizers and movers behind the “Healing Our Hearts at Wounded Knee” project, and her voice can be heard in the video at their website, and she appeared as well in the indigenous plenary at the Parliament (of which the video can be found below). She mentioned a vision she had about this event at the Parliament, in which she was standing before everyone, and each person appeared as a feather, and each fiber of each person’s feather was the bright light of an ancestor that they were bringing with them to the work before them. When she said this, I thought she looked right at me, and given I was sitting toward the front on one side, I likewise thought she was just looking in my general direction. When I went to thank her for the presentation later, however, she said “thank you” to me for being there before I could introduce myself, and when I was a bit quizzical about this, she said that the feathers on my fez showed that I was meant to be there and a part of her vision. There were people there on the second installment who had many more feathers than I did, and I attach no particular special role or significance to the fact that I literalized her vision in some sense…and yet, it was noteworthy to me that such was the case, and it strengthened my resolve to organize an event in support of their efforts in my own community this year. So, that’s what I’ll be doing in late December–look for further updates on that as time passes.
A second event, which ended up being multi-part in its own way, was a session on repealing the papal bulls containing the “doctrine of discovery” from the 15th century, which gave the Spanish and Portuguese initially, but others as well, carte blanche to enslave the peoples of the Americas, Africa, and anywhere else in the world where the population was not Christian. One of the main speakers and researchers on this topic is Steven Newcomb, who wrote the book Pagans in the Promised Land: Decoding the Doctrine of Christian Discovery. Another is Sheldon P. Wolfchild, who with his production company 38 Plus 2 Productions, and together with Steven, produced the film The Doctrine of Discovery: Unmasking the Domination Code. They spoke about their work and research at a session, along with Chief Oren Lyons. I spoke further with them at various other times, and then also attended a showing of the film the following day. I would recommend EVERYONE who is interested in this subject get the film without reservation, and become aware of these issues as widely as possible–this is not merely some forgotten papal edict that is now irrelevant, this is U.S. law-setting precedent that is still upheld in the courts of the United States to the present day, and is preventing indigenous people from having access to their sacred sites, and in many other ways depriving them of their lands, rights as human beings, and cultures. Chief Oren Lyons, who is of the Seneca and Onondaga nations, spoke at the plenary as well, but had some important things to say on the first occasion I heard him speak, one of which is that we all have to keep doing our ceremonies in our different traditions (to honor the Land, Ancestors, and Deities), that they are our strength and we should not ever give them up, and that “we’re good at them and we do them right.” Yes, yes, yes! Both Chief Lyons and Chief Lookinghorse also said something that I think needs to be repeated, because at the Matronae ritual at Many Gods West, this was also said, in these exact words and with the exact same gravity: “a storm is coming.” I cannot over-emphasize the importance of the work of these men enough, and will be saying more about that in the days and weeks to come as well.
On the second day, I attended a session on preventing youth suicides, which is a major problem in First Nations communities in the U.S., and which is something that I have a particular interest in (as I’m sure many of you know). The session was listed as being by Arnold Thomas, but a little more than halfway through, Arnold turned it over to his elder, Robertjohn Knapp, who is of the Seneca, Tubatalabal, and Ohlone nations–both of them are in the indigenous plenary. Very interestingly, this session was in many respects the least about the topic it was stated to be about than any other I attended…and, that was fine, because so much of what was said was also useful and important, and gave necessary context to what was discussed in relation to suicide. Arnold is a survivor of a suicide attempt in his youth, and now he’s considered a holy man. He did not address the topic by name hardly at all in the 50ish minutes that he spoke, but that didn’t matter. We ended up doing a quasi-guided meditation at one point having to do with being a crow, which ultimately lead up to being the punchline of a joke, and I think this was a really important experience for those present who aren’t familiar with the often sideways and tangential manners of teaching that can occur in indigenous contexts. When he turned it over to Robertjohn, he did say a few more things about the topic directly, but so much else that he said was almost more important. He talked about the anti-feminine forces that exist in the world, and he said that the notion of being sent beneath the earth into darkness and fire for damnation according to Christian cosmology is idiocy, because that’s just returning to the womb, and who wouldn’t want to do that? ;) He also talked about some cosmological ideas that favored darkness as the origin and “not a bad thing” which were entirely sympathetic to my own cosmological views on Nyx. (Note: I’m not using “cosmology” in the scientific sense here, I’m using it in the religious sense.) He said that everyone has a song, and you should find it and sing it. He then said that he likes many Christmas carols, but not the words, so he just keeps the tunes but changes the words, and I rather loudly agreed with him on this! ;) He also shared his idea that the notion that “love” is an emotion is complete and utter bullshit, and that instead love is an intellectual and conscious decision on the part of someone to care about another. As a result, he said he may not always like certain people or what they do, but he can (and does) always love them. Thinking about it in this manner is unbelievably important and useful, I think, and would fix a lot of the problems people have with relationships nowadays. His advice on suicidal thoughts was “Do something that makes you happy, watch a movie that you like; reach out to others; don’t let all of the negative messages that you hear convince you that you need to do something.” After their talk, I went to speak with him, and he began by saying “You see me, don’t you?” I said “yes,” and he replied, “thank you for seeing me, and not looking at me.” Alas, there was a TON of “looking at” people (including myself) that occurred at the Parliament, on which more later). He noticed my hat and talked for a while about how he went to sit in on a session of the U.S. Congress and they attempted to make him take off his hat, even though he had an eagle feather in it and that’s a part of his culture and is supposed to be respected as a religious practice. He ended up getting a Native American Congressman to get the rules on the books changed in relation to this so that such a disrespect would never again occur there. At the end of his account of this, he said “Don’t ever let anyone make you take off your hat.” I had the chance to speak with him a few other times during the Parliament, and I treasure every one of them.
The other indigenous session I attended was a so-called “shared session” (which is sad, because in reality, each presenter deserved a ninety-minute slot of their own), which was half Yoruba and half Di-ne (also known as the Navajo). The Yoruba part was by Wande Abimbola and his wife Ajisebo Abimbola (both of whom are also in the plenary below), and the Di-ne part was by Danny Blackgoat, who it turns out has people he knows in my college! I was later told by T. Thorn Coyle that during the Abimbolas’ part of the presentation, I was nodding so often my feathered fez was in constant motion! The part of that presentation that is not covered in their brief plenary that I think is the most important is the fact that anyone who tries to characterize the Yoruba religions as “monotheist” is simply incorrect and full of it–though Olodumare is the creator deity, all of the other Orisha are equal to him and are Deities in their own right. ASHE! Danny spoke about “assimilation” and “acculturation” of the Di-ne, and how he tried to escape residential schools several times during his life, the first time being when he was five years old in kindergarten. As he crossed the road and made it out to the sagebrush, a Di-ne rider came along and asked him where he was going. He said he wanted to go home and where his home was, and the rider said that it was far and he’d help him, but then once he was up on the back of his horse with the rider, he took him right back to the school. During his presentation, Danny held up his paper cup from Starbuck’s, and said “I’ve used this same cup since Thursday [it was Sunday] for water and coffee; how many have you used?” It was kind of a poignant moment for several people in the room, I think.
In addition to the indigenous ceremonies around the fire, of which I attended about four, there was one other major indigenous event I attended, which was the plenary on the final day. They expected to get through about 19 speakers–Rupert Steel, Robertjohn Knapp, Ta’Kaiya Blaney, Chief Arvol Lookinghorse, Wande and Ajisebo Abimbola, Arnold Thomas, Dr. Rangimarie Turuki Arikirangi Rose Pere, Inija Trinkuniene (and Andras Corban-Arthen), Steven Newcomb, Wilson Aronilith, Darlene St. Clair, Angaangaq Angakkorsuaq, Chief Oren Lyons, Flordemayo (with Jean Fleury), and Robbie Romero, all MC’d by Lewis Cardinal–in ninety minutes…Are you kidding? Who thought that would be possible or desirable? (Desirable to have that many and that quality of speakers, certainly; having to squish it all in like that, and putting time limits on these venerable elders: fuck no!)
Watch the whole thing, if you can (both parts!); but if you can’t, and can only spare about 15 minutes or so, then watch the first video from 2:02:24, where Lewis Cardinal is introducing Angaangaq Angakkorsuaq, which of the many indigenous presenters at the Parliament was the one who (amidst a thousand great statements and generations of lineaged wisdom) probably said the most important and shocking, but nonetheless essential, things. He was also one of the only people at the Parliament that I had no met or known previously who greeted me with absolute and utter warmth, welcome, and respect when I had a few moments later on to thank him and speak with him.
I will also never forget the moment after which he finished his prayer to the Ancestors, and when people began to applaud, but he waved his hand indicating that it was NOT OK to applaud prayers as if they are entertainment. So many people there, I think, were treating these indigenous ceremonies, songs, and prayers as if they were mere diversions and sideshows, and though there were very few people (of the perhaps five hundred) left who attended that plenary on Monday morning, and only the “serious” ones remained for the most part, nonetheless the message hadn’t gotten through to them even yet.
And here’s the rest, starting amidst Chief Oren Lyons’ statements…
…and it is a superlative disrespect that Chief Lyons was effectively “played off” in that manner. That they expected so many indigenous people, particularly elders, to be able to be crammed in to ninety minutes is such utter folly in the first place, though…But, it was also the largest audience that Steven Newcomb was able to address for the entire Parliament. When I attended the first session he did along with Chief Oren Lyons and Sheldon P. Wolfchild, Chief Lyons said at one point, “there are too many empty seats in here.” The room we were in could have easily held 350 people, but there were only about 35 present on that occasion. If only 350 or so remained at the end of that plenary, that was still more than there had been for most other events I attended.
Amongst a thousand other great things in these videos, I especially liked what Robbie Romero said near the end about “everything new is hidden in the past.” Those of us, who are not recognized as indigenous, but who are returning to the ancestral traditions and lineages of the past that have been destroyed, forgotten, suppressed, and abandoned (no matter how “irrelevant” and spurned some people still think these things are and should be), would do well to keep his words in mind into the future and in all of our works–not only what we research and bring again to light, but also what things we create which are new, but have that ring of the ancestral to them.
There’s a billion other things I could say about all of this, but I need to move on to some of the not-so-positive things that were occurring.
White Women’s *Spiritual* Privilege
But, beyond all that which was positive, I also encountered an overwhelming amount of spiritual tourism, which really is cultural appropriation in another form, and it particularly manifested itself in the form of what I’m going to call “white *spiritual* women’s privilege.” By pointing this out in this particular fashion, I’m not saying that any and all white women who are involved in spiritual pursuits of any sort have privilege (apart from white privilege), nor am I utterly condemning anyone who has ever manifested any of these attitudes or actions. But, in the cases where I observed these things, it was always white women who were doing the actions, and I’ve encountered such white *spiritual* women in other places (e.g. PantheaCon), who have often been the ones who have taken it upon themselves–without knowing anything about me or what I do–to instruct me on how “all Goddesses are one Goddess, and all Gods are one God” and other such utterly useless and irrelevant things.
Some of the things that I witnessed or experienced included:
–Just before the main part of the Mayan ceremony occurred on the last day, there was a space for people to make individual prayers or songs while people were still getting smudged or making initial offerings of tobacco. More than one white woman took the time, rather than to actually pray, to “share” about what a great experience it all was for them to see other people and to have this lovely feeling of “all being one” and how much they’ve *learned* from others. That’s fine, but this is PRAYER time, not *share* time. Not understanding that there is a difference between praying and making a statement, or asking a question and making a statement, or talking more about oneself and one’s feelings rather than listening to others, was something I saw an awful lot of throughout the indigenous sessions and ceremonies.
–When Arnold Thomas did a few prayer-songs at his session, he first stated the origins of the songs and that he had permission to sing them from those who gave them to him. He did not invite others to join in them unless they knew him and already had permission to sing them. When he and his associates then did these songs at one of the indigenous ceremonies, a number of white women–not having permission, not being invited to join in, and not even knowing if they were singing the words correctly (and YES, they do have words, they’re not just “gibberish you can follow along with”–yes, I heard a woman actually say that!), nonetheless singing along, shows a tremendous amount of entitlement.
–No sooner than one of the indigenous ceremonies ended at the fire circle did a particular woman, decked out in a huge flower crown and the requisite tie-dyed flowing skirts, break out her drum and begin singing loudly and drumming (poorly) some earth-loving song or other, dancing around near the center of the circle while the elders and those who conducted the ceremony were going around greeting and thanking everyone for taking part. That no permission was asked to do this, and that the protocols of the ceremony that had happened legitimately in that space before it were not respected (since it was still kind of going on with the thanks!), was profoundly disrespectful, privileged, and entitled.
–Several white women came up to me and did not ask permission to pet my wolf, who I carried on my left shoulder for the final day of the Parliament, and then didn’t say a word and just left. Invading personal space because you think you’re allowed to? Sorry, not cool, not kosher, and not remotely respectful.
–On the last day, a woman who asked to take a photograph of me referred to my outfit as a “costume.” One wouldn’t call a Buddhist monk’s robes a “costume,” nor would anyone who was being in any manner respectful refer to a First Nations person’s traditional regalia as a “costume.”
–At the Mayan ceremony on the final morning, one of the Mayan grandmothers went around the circle and gave everyone a small, thin candle that was a different color (there were six or seven different colors). These were then offered into the fire at different points in the ceremony that followed, to correspond to directional colors and associations, as well as qualities of heart and spirit that were being emphasized. I ended up with yellow, which corresponded to the “completion of creation/the universe” (interestingly and appropriately enough!), and I watched carefully as the elder leading the ceremony offered his candles into the fire and tried to do likewise. One white woman, who arrived late to the ceremony, was given a candle, and then put it in her pocket and soon after LEFT THE CEREMONY! There was no thought that this might be *for someone else,* it was just assumed that it was a little souvenir from those nice quaint indigenous people.
–It turned out that Dr. Rangimarie Turuki Arikirangi Rose Pere and her contingent of Maori representatives were staying in the same hotel as I was, and I didn’t know it until the morning I checked out. I had only said “thank you” to her briefly the night before and had no other interactions with her, so did not want to impose upon her. As I turned in my keys and was going to make my way to the light rail out to the airport, the Maori contingent were gathered in the hotel lobby, and were kind of giving an interview to some media, I think. At the end of it, they did the same blessing that they had done at the end of her part of the plenary. When that occurred I stood by and smiled. Once it was finished, I started to make my way out, and a white woman came up to me and said “Whether you like it or not, you just got a Maori blessing.” I said “I love that!” She responded, “Well, you see, I was just joking–I don’t think anyone could possibly not like that.” So, being patronizing and presumptuous in dealing with what she obviously thought might be someone ill-informed and “mundane” is not exactly a good way to approach others in a *spiritual* manner, is it?
These are some of the most egregious things that I witnessed or experienced; it is not the whole of the story. The behavior of many people there–not just white women, but there was a bit of a predominance of them engaging in such ways–was pretty appalling, and demonstrated something that I said in my presentation: not only do we need, as a modern culture in the U.S., to learn to be more hospitable towards others, but part of that ethic of hospitality is also learning how to be a good guest. “Respect” in one’s conduct and in one’s treatment of others, in one’s assessments of other people’s religious practices, and so forth is something that was emphasized repeatedly by many of the indigenous speakers. It’s a cornerstone, the foundation, the capstone, and the ornamentation on any polytheist and animist approach to religion. It was notably missing in too many contexts that I saw at the Parliament.
There were white women who were superlatively respectful to me as well, and one in particular (who did not identify herself religiously, but was from Salt Lake City) spoke with me just before the indigenous plenary began. When I told her of my experiences at my own presentation, which I’ll detail in the next section, she was highly disturbed; and when she asked me about my wolf (who is my wife), I told her a bit about her and how she came into my life, and how we are assisting each other with completing the work she wasn’t able to do and the work I’m still doing, and she was moved to tears by hearing it. She gave me a big hug, and said she’d carry the warmth of my heart with her for as long as possible. This was a wonderful experience, to see that I could have a positive effect on another person by telling the smallest part of my (and my wolf-wife’s!) story, and that someone not only heard it, but wanted to hear it and to be impacted by it, of which I had been deprived in my own presentation. It is exactly these types of interaction that I had hoped to have and looked forward to having at the Parliament. It is sad that there weren’t more of them in my own experience, but nonetheless, I’ll take that particular one–and several others–very much to heart and to good memory as I go forward.
Understand, again, and let me re-emphasize that I don’t think that “white *spiritual* women” are a problem, especially because some of the very best people I know happen to be white spiritual women–and note, the lack of the little star-sparklies there in my usage. These white spiritual women that I know are women who lead in all their interactions with their good character and integrity rather than with the fact that they’re *spiritual* because, for example, they wear a lot of turquoise jewelry and wear drapey shawls and scarves and skirts and so forth. There was a lot of what appeared to be shallow spiritual tourism going on, a fair amount of privilege and entitlement and thoughtless appropriation of some of what others were doing, and a great deal of disrespect thrown in. While i will be the first in a room to say that women are degraded and disrespected far too often and far too unthinkingly by society-at-large, and in particular in some religious contexts, and attempting to address some of those issues was important in this particular Parliament, I don’t think that automatically means that any white woman can do whatever she likes with whomever and whatever she pleases in a spiritual context, ignoring all concerns for respect and the boundaries which are maintained by it. I am emphasizing “white women” here because none of the women of color I met there, whether they were American or First Nations or from other countries, acted in those ways in similar positions and situations that I observed. Spirituality does not mean entitlement, and I think that’s a really important thing to keep in mind for everyone. When queer people act badly, I will be the first to criticize them, even despite the oppression and stigma that queer people as-a-whole have experienced over the years; I do not buy that any and all critiques of queer people are just “internalized homophobia,” for example, particularly when harmful and destructive things and disrespectful conduct is approved of and proceeds unchecked. I do think the same needs to be kept in mind with any oppressed and stigmatized demographic: it doesn’t make everyone of that demographic a saint, and it certainly doesn’t give them permission to run rough-shod over others, especially in contexts where cultural appropriation is not only possible but has had a history of occurring previously.
Now, on to less-happy topics.
Gessi and Responsibility
We come, at last, to a discussion of what in the hell happened with my presentation and why what has followed from it is the good, right, and respectful thing to have occurred. All of what is above needed to be known and heard in order to understand what follows. But first, I need to talk about several gessi that I have observed over the past number of years.
Because of my metagender status, something which the Tetrad++ have tried to emphasize with me over and over again during the past few years is the need to take myself in very good care, and to treat my gender identity as respectfully and as real and actualized in as many areas of life as is possible and safe in a given moment. This has meant that in the last few months, I’ve come out to more people at work, I’ve tried to transition many people in my life into the pronouns that I currently use, and I’ve advocated more and more for others and for myself in terms of various public accommodations and the like. If I am filling out a survey or a form of any sort and there are only two options on gender, but an answer is required, then I have the following choices: 1) if it is a paper form, don’t fill in anything; 2) if it is an online form, and an answer is required, then I forego whatever survey, service, or other thing is involved–with the only exception being airline tickets (sadly). There is more than one contest that I’ve not entered because there was no alternative-to-the-binary gender option; there is more than one survey that I’ve taken time to fill out that I then do not complete at the end when they get to demographic questions and force an answer on gender that only has binary options. I had to get the organizers of my high school reunion in 2014 to change the form for registration to not ask about gender, because it initially did and forced an answer; I would not have attended if they did not change it (by getting rid of that requirement entirely, since it was totally irrelevant). When I had my session accepted for the World Parliament of Religions, and went to fill out the registration form, the only reason that I did end up going rather than canceling at that point was because their gender options were “Male,” “Female,” and “Other.”
One of the further results of this is that I try not to use gendered restrooms in public any longer; I’ll prefer to go to certain establishments that have non-gender-specific restrooms; if it is a dire emergency and there are no other options, I’ll use a gender-specific restroom that (hopefully) won’t get me arrested, but for the most part, I’ve learned more and more to “just hold it” whenever these options aren’t available easily. And, if I am *in uniform* so to speak, and am specifically acting in a spiritual role where my metagender status is essential, I am to avoid gender-specific restrooms altogether if possible, unless it is a dire emergency to the point that my breath smells of shit and my eyes water urine. Yes, it’s that important.
This means that because I was in several variations of my sacred regalia over the time of the Parliament, I was expected by my Deities to abide by those agreements even more. There were only two non-gender-specific restrooms in the entire Salt Palace that i was able to find, and both were close to the main entrances. In one instance, there was a men’s room nearby, but no accompanying women’s room was adjacent because it was on the other side of the ballrooms, I think. This meant that on several occasions, there was a line for that particular non-gendered restroom. When I arrived in the line, I was always told within seconds, “You know, there’s a men’s room right there,” to which I’d reply–with an attempted (and occasionally failed) smile on my face–“I’m not a man.” (And I’m also not blind or stupid, thanks…but that wouldn’t occur to those who have cisgender privilege, would it?) In only one of those interactions that I had over the time of the Parliament did the person who made that suggestion apologize for reading and attempting to assign my gender incorrectly, and I had to take that 33.33% success rate on that particular score as a huge victory, sadly. Nonetheless, negotiating this is an ongoing battle. At PantheaCon, the current policy is ridiculous: “use the restroom which you are most comfortable with” would be “NEITHER!” in my case, and I suspect in the cases of many other people who attend the conference. That meant that the restrooms in hospitality suites were all the more important in the past few years for me.
But, speaking of PantheaCon, another geis that I have been upholding over the last few years also has been pertinent in that context, but has a much larger and longer-standing significance for me. It has to do with hospitality, and specifically hospitality toward my Deities. If a person within a particular organization or group evinces any open hostility or distaste toward any of my Deities, and is thus not hospitable to their presence (in a variety of ways, shapes, and forms), then the correct protocol for me to follow is to leave and no longer have contact with the group or organization in question. To be an uninvited or unwelcome guest is one of the highest breaches of hospitality that there is, in my book, and it is for this reason that having the specific welcome of the Ute, Paiute, Goshute, Shoshone, and Di-ne people of Salt Lake City and its surrounding region for the World Parliament of Religions was so important to have, and to maintain by good and respectful relations while I was there, which included going to their fire circle first each day, and also mentioning them at the beginning of my presentation.
But, also, this observance of the rules of hospitality in this particular matter also ends up doing something that I think far more religions should adopt: avoiding the possibility of evangelization, missionizing, and proselytizing. By its very definition, telling someone something they don’t want to hear and have no interest in is an unwelcome conversation; throw in the religious element, and it may not only involve unwelcome conversations, but also unwelcome intrusions of spiritual beings, energies, and modalities. If someone thinks that any of my Deities are “shit” to the point that they cannot quell the urge to comment on such, then that means that by definition they are not welcome in those spaces with those people. The only proper and correct action to take in such a situation is to excuse oneself from the person’s presence, even if they are the only one who feels that way within a given group. As long as the group maintains good relations and membership status with the individual in question, then the entire group becomes off-limits. It is a “putting a fence around the Torah” approach to the matter, but oftentimes, erring on the side of caution with gessi has more to recommend it than not.
This has meant that in the past, I had to leave a Celtic Reconstructionist group in Seattle that I was an early member of because someone expressed–not directly to me, through others who then conveyed this information to me–that they felt any mention of Antinous was a waste of time, and they also didn’t care to hear about Hanuman or Shinto. Keep in mind, I remember all of the times that Antinous was mentioned in any of our meetings–ONCE, when someone else brought him up in a way that was relevant, and we spent no more than a minute talking about him–but apart from that, my mentions of Antinous were reserved only for the dinners after our meetings occurred, where things as diverse as H.P. Lovecraft, computer games, tabletop role-playing, and other things entirely irrelevant to Celtic Reconstructionism were not only discussed, but were debated and expounded upon with more fervor than anything we ever did in meetings or rituals. Those were also the only occasions on which Hanuman or Shinto were mentioned by me, either. It was not a difficult decision to make, then, to remove myself from the group because people within it had those feelings. I will reserve comment on the fact that the Irish in particular are supposed to observe some of the best and most welcoming hospitality traditions, as is evidenced by their mythologies and folk practices (and even current ethos!), and therefore how much of a very big failure this was on their part in relation to specifically religious matters, but I think you can easily fill in the blanks.
I have attended a number of different events–including PantheaCon–where I have not always been assured that my Deities, and in particular Antinous, would be respected, and there have occasionally been threats that some of my events would be protested for various reasons. If that is the case, people are free to exercise their First Amendment rights within those contexts, but then that means that I have to leave and take my Deities and my traditions as I practice them with me. I have entered many different contexts, including even Many Gods West, with that possibility in mind as a potential outcome, and thus am often somewhat “on-edge” when I attend events because I have to be willing to act on this specific geis at a moment’s notice if necessary.
I’ll pause for a moment and introduce you to the fact that in Irish stories, when gessi are broken, it often leads to two further things:
1) The breaking of one geis leads to further breaking of other gessi.
2) The end result is usually death. That was the result for Cú Chulainn; that was the result for Conaire Mór. One should never assume that one is any better than these great heroes and kings.
I am thankful that the Deities who have these particular gessi that I have been able to uphold–until recently–do not require death as a penalty for breaking them, and they feel that I am more useful to them alive rather than dead at present. (It might not have turned out that way, as when I took a nap that afternoon after the not-good things happened on the last day of the Parliament, I nearly quit breathing in my sleep. That doesn’t happen very often, and hasn’t for a long time, but there it was…)
I have to mention one further thing before I get into the “actual” situation of my presentation. Throughout the weekend, I was making notes and plans and considering possibilities for doing a bit of impromptu ritual, especially since the Armilustrium was on the 19th, the Monday I was giving my presentation. I did divination before I left to see if I should bring certain ritual items for that purpose, but was given a “no” and was told I wouldn’t likely be dancing on that date, as I had planned. When I walked the labyrinth on the first day, I did divination in the center of it before walking out, and was told that I might dance out of that labyrinth on another day, but not that first day, which lead me to believe that I might do so on Armilustrium. I considered throwing together an impromptu ritual, which would mostly be chanting and moving, for the labyrinth after my presentation on Monday. I had also considered asking the Paiutes if they would allow me to do a dance or a prayer or song in their fire circle at some point when no other ceremonies were going on, and I suspect they’d have said yes, but I never got around to it. I did divination several times during their ceremonies, when there were open prayer moments, and was told by Amesemi and Antinous that I should FUCK YES sing and pray to them in that circle during a ceremony, because they would understand and appreciate it…and yet, I held off because I did not want to grand-stand or in any way overshadow what they were doing or take the focus off their ceremonies. I resolved to “save it for my session,” and hoped the Deities would be pleased with that.
Myself and Khonsumes–whose presence throughout the Parliament I truly appreciate and cannot extol enough–attended the Mayan ceremony on the final (Monday) morning b