Ritual

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"To me life in Western Europe is full of ritual activity and pretty deviod of spirituality"

Its devoid of spirituality alright! But are we confusing "ritual activity" with "compulsive disorder". Mere repetition of pointless actions like -

Christmas shopping, buying stuff in M&S today and exchanging it tomorrow, getting a new mobile though there is nothing wrong with the old one, just having to have the latest ring tones, downing as much ale as you can to prove your manhood, conforming to daft spellings like R*man and Xtian - are compulsions.

Our few remaining festivals are cheapjack commercial exploitations designed to sell cards, gifts and booze. They lack any real ritual. Each generation creates its own new compulsions within its peer groups and despises those of previous age groups. That is how society evolves and eventually collapses. The alternative is stagnation, tyranny and obsessive observation of ritual.

To me - ritual is formalised behaviour that we choose to follow - Catholics taking communion for example. Would I could go back to a time when simple rustic folk danced the sun up on May morning, brought in greenery and yule logs at Christmas, sang the harvest home... but I can't. That is a romantic dream and we are divorced from the old folk ways. Fake replication without meaning is all that remains. Alas!

Alas!....

Cheer up!

With all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams,
it is still a beautiful world.

Everytime I go on a stone seeing trip I play Buddy Holly's <i>Rave On</i> as I set off. That's a riutal with no particular spiritual meaning.

"Would I could go back to a time when simple rustic folk danced the sun up on May morning, brought in greenery and yule logs at Christmas, sang the harvest home... but I can't. That is a romantic dream and we are divorced from the old folk ways. Fake replication without meaning is all that remains."

In Chiswick or Chepstow, maybe, yet...

Kopivosian Tadau Ka’amatan!

Homowo!

Alkhalalalaj!

And no matter how cynical and ultra-westernised I might be, just the simple action of serendipity in finding a few handfuls of cornstalks laid carefully in the (now defunct?) Chapel of Brigit at Glastonbury, moved me to big gay tears.

The joy of harvest only recedes under a tide of gluttony. Gluttony never lasts ;-)

>...conforming to daft spellings like R*man and Xtian - are compulsions.<

I assume some on TMA insert an asterisk into the word 'Roman' because of their dislike for most things Roman.

The 'X' of Xitan is not a daft spelling at all. As I've pointed out before, the word Xmas stems from the Greek letter X (chi) representing the first letter of the Greek 'Christos' (Christ). The word Xmas is first recorded in the English language in 1551 (CDE) and is therefore not a modern invention as some may think. People might do well to check their etymological dictionaries before launching into a thread of 'X' number of posts, taking some twenty minutes to read, which in the end signifies nothing other than a waste of time - time that might have been better spent seeding my summer's crop of <i>shitake</i> mushrooms ;-)

"Would I could go back to a time when simple rustic folk danced the sun up on May morning, brought in greenery and yule logs at Christmas, sang the harvest home... but I can't. That is a romantic dream and we are divorced from the old folk ways. Fake replication without meaning is all that remains. Alas!"

If the whole thing has no meaning to you anyway, why would you want to go back in time and have 'morereal meaninglessness'?

Strange, I don't have you figured as the dancing sort, I'd invite you to Clun next year but I would think you'd be too busy chastising those dancers for being 'fakes' to enjoy it.

I hear it all now:

Green Man: "Hail, the Queen of the May"

Crowd: "Hail The Queen of the May!"

PeterH: "You're not real, you are pretending!"

May Queen: "Mine is the beauty of the green earth and the fullness thereof for I am the bringer of all fruitfulness unto thee

By the moonray’s shaft of sliver power
By the green leaf breaking from the bud,
By the seed that springeth into flower,
By the life that courses in the blood,
Invoke the power of land and tree,
And call on rain and sun.
As I do will, so let it be,
I speak the word and it is done.

PeterH (shouting now):

"What a bunch of idiots, where's the blood!? And she's not even the real May Queen! Go back to your Playstations you fakers - and I STILL haven't seen an Ibex killed by human teeth, these townies are an abominable sham. Get a move on, Candice Marie, we have to get back home by 4:46, I'm done with this parlour game."