and More Science and Spirit Smarts is about alchemy. Both posts deal with how differently we used to perceive ourselves before we split science and spirit, and how objective reality is now considered the true reality, marginalizing all else. The all else is where crop circles live.

http://www.annebaring.com — is “devoted to the affirmation of a new vision of reality and to the exploration of the deeper issues facing us at this crucial time of choice.” She has other very intelligent pieces there, that also go beyond the parameters of our public dialogue, where we confine ourselves to trying to change results without giving consideration to the need to deal with causes.

Excerpted from THE LOSS OF THE WORLD SOUL AND ITS RETURN

The belief system of scientific reductionism which so powerfully influences modern secular culture may be understood as the end-result of the long-standing dissociation between spirit and nature, mind and matter but, above all, the sundering within us of thinking and feeling, rational mind and instinctive soul – the conscious and unconscious aspects of our nature. It has concluded that the universe is indifferent to us, that we are the products of impersonal forces operating o­n inanimate matter and that we do not survive death…

Yet, o­nce, long ago, in a past so distant that we have no memory of it the whole cosmos was seen as a living being and the visible world was a showing forth of an unseen source which animated and sustained it. Everything in the heavens and o­n earth was infused with divinity because everything was part of a living, breathing web of life. The invisible and visible dimensions of life were imagined and experienced as a sacred unity.

Our present consciousness has grown out of a far more ancient and instinctive way of knowing which could be described as lunar…What did the moon teach us? The emergence of the crescent moon from the three days of darkness that preceded it gave us the image of the visible world emerging from an invisible o­ne, the time-bound world from an eternal o­ne. The moon nourished the creative imagination, teaching us to observe and to wonder, helping us to make connections between what was above in the heavens and what was below o­n earth…

From this lunar pattern constantly speaking to the mythic imagination, birth and death became a rite of passage for the soul as it journeyed between the visible and invisible dimensions of life, a journey that was symbolised by the path through a labyrinth. The ancestors were not lost to the living but were close by, available to counsel and guide. There was, therefore, no final demarcation line between life and death.

The constant rhythm of the moon waxing and waning held both light and darkness in relation to each other – held them in balance – because the totality of the moon’s cycle embraced both light and dark phases and therefore symbolically included both life and death. Light and darkness were not polarised as they were later to become in a solar culture, but were phases of the total cycle, so that there was always an image of a unifying whole which included both polarities.

Over countless thousands of years, shamanic rituals and myths kept alive the sense of connection between this world and another world whose symbol, initially, may have been the dark phase of the moon…This lunar culture was primarily feminine in character – receptive to the presence of the eternal…

Having described a lunar culture where people lived within a sacred cosmos, we may ask what wider cultural influences led to the loss of the World Soul?…From about 2000 bce, we begin to see developing a new phase in the evolution of human consciousness – a phase whose focus is the sun rather than the moon. As this process develops, solar mythology begins to displace lunar mythology: linear time begins to replace lunar cyclical time, and a linear, literal and objective way of thinking slowly replaces the older imaginal and participatory way of knowing. Concurrently, the human psyche draws away from nature and as it does so, the predominant image of spirit changes from Great Mother to Great Father. The greater the withdrawal from nature, the more transcendent and disengaged from nature becomes the image of the deity: divine immanence is lost. The mind is focused beyond nature o­n the realm of intellectual ideas: philosophy becomes discourse o­n these ideas rather than relationship with an invisible reality.

A second major influence was the impact of literacy o­n our way of thinking. The written word replaced the oral tradition that had carried the wisdom and insights of the older culture…Perhaps because literacy distanced us from nature, creation in the Judeo-Christian tradition is now believed to arise from the word of the transcendent Father, no longer from the womb of the Mother. This is a crucially important distinction because the unity of life is again broken: invisible spirit no longer animates and inhabits nature. The earth is desacralised. Religious belief replaces shamanic experience. Ancient ways of connection are forbidden. With this shift in archetypal imagery, everything formerly associated with the feminine archetype (the Great Mother) is downgraded in relation to the masculine o­ne (the Great Father)…For over 4000 years, under the influence of this mythology, war and conquest were glorified as the noblest activity for man; victory and the spoils of war the coveted treasure to be won in battle, courage in battle the supreme virtue in the warrior…

Solar mythology reflects an immense change in human consciousness, the formulation of an entirely new perception of life, o­ne where, as technology advances, nature becomes something to be controlled and manipulated by human ingenuity, to human advantage…It is as if the heroic human ego, identified with the solar hero, has to seek out new territories to conquer, has to embody the myth in a literal sense. The terminology of conquest and dominance still influences our own modern culture with its focus o­n the conquest of nature, of space, of our enemies. It is as if we have been conditioned by this powerful mythology to think o­nly in oppositional terms – victory or defeat – never in terms of dialogue and reconciliation.

Solar mythology is, above all, the story of the heroic individual. Its theme is the Promethean quest for freedom, justice, knowledge and power. It carries with it the human longing to reach higher, progress further, discover more. It is overwhelmingly male because the male psyche has been the dominant influence in many cultures over some 4000 years and it is the achievements and discoveries of exceptional men which have inspired other men. A strong sense of individuality and a focused ego can be acknowledged as the supreme achievement of the male psyche during this solar era. But the voice of women who were denied access to education, the priesthood and political power was silenced.

The danger of this solar phase is that the human mind, breaking away from its instinctive ground, and its relationship with nature and cosmos, begins to assimilate a god-like power to itself, seeing itself engaged in a great struggle to gain mastery of nature. The solar achievement of establishing a strong conscious ego was won at the expense of repressing whatever it perceived as threatening to it. The inner conflict was projected into the world as the drive for power and control over others, whether in the religious or political field.

The influence of solar mythology was to divide life into two halves: spirit and nature, light and dark, good and evil, mind and body, subject and object. These oppositions became fixed in our consciousness as an actual belief system…As time went  o­n religions took o­n the mantle of solar mythology in a struggle for supremacy and are tragically engaged in it to this day.

From this long historical process, it is possible to see that the belief system of scientific reductionism which has so powerfully influenced modern secular culture may be understood as the end-result of the long-standing dissociation between spirit and nature, mind and matter but, above all, the sundering within us of thinking and feeling, rational mind and instinctive soul – the conscious and unconscious aspects of our nature. It has concluded that the universe is indifferent to us, that we are the products of impersonal forces operating o­n inanimate matter. Consciousness arises from the physical brain. When we die, that is the end of us.

To sum up: over the four millennia that solar mythology became the dominant influence o­n world culture, we have achieved an extraordinary advance in scientific and technological skills and their application to improving the conditions of human life o­n this planet and a phenomenal expansion of the ability to express ourselves as individuals in myriad different fields of Endeavour. But at the same time, we have suffered a catastrophic loss of soul, a loss of the ancient instinctive awareness of the sacred interweaving of all aspects of life, a loss of the sense of participation in the life of nature and the invisible dimension of the cosmos, a loss of instinct and imagination…

This leaves the human heart lonely and afraid and the neglected territory of the soul a barren wasteland. The rage and despair of denied needs confront us as the enemies who seek to destroy us and whom we seek to destroy. We struggle to contain the effects of a dysfunctional way of thinking – believing that ever greater power and control will enable us to eradicate the evils we bring into being…

Beyond the present limits of our sight an immense field of consciousness interacts with our own, asking to be recognised by us, embraced by us. As this deep soul-impulse to recover what has been lost gathers momentum, the “marriage” of the emerging lunar values with the ruling solar o­nes is changing our perception of reality. If we can recover the ancient way of knowing in a modern context, without losing the priceless evolutionary attainment of a strong and focused ego, we could heal the fissure in our psyche and bring together many aspects of life that have been fragmented. In the words of D.H. Lawrence, “The great range of responses that have fallen dead in us have to come to life again.”

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A tale (well, two tails) of true love…

The Hippo and the Tortoise Who Became Friends After the Tsunami

NAIROBI (AFP) – A baby hippopotamus that survived the tsunami waves o­n the Kenyan coast has formed a strong bond with a giant male century-old tortoise, in an animal facility in the port city of Mombassa, officials said.

The hippopotamus, nicknamed Owen and weighing about 300 kilograms (650 pounds), was swept down Sabaki River into the Indian Ocean , then forced back to shore when tsunami waves struck the Kenyan coast o­n December 26, before wildlife rangers rescued him.

“It is incredible. A-less-than-a-year-old hippo has adopted a male tortoise, about a century old, and the tortoise seems to be very happy with being a 'mother',” ecologist Paula Kahumbu, who is in charge of Lafarge Park, told AFP.

“After it was swept and lost its mother, the hippo was traumatized. It had to look for something to be a surrogate mother. Fortunately, it landed o­n the tortoise and established a strong bond. They swim, eat and sleep together,” the ecologist added.

“The hippo follows the tortoise exactly the way it follows its mother. If somebody approaches the tortoise, the hippo becomes aggressive, as if protecting its biological mother,” Kahumbu added.

“The hippo is a young baby, he was left at a very tender age and by nature, hippos are social animals that like to stay with their mothers for four years,” he explained.

When I first focused my lens o­n the baby hippo struggling beneath a fish net in the back of a pick-up, I never anticipated what a remarkable story it would become. Back then, it seemed then to be just a curious quirk to the Asian Tsunami story, but o­ne that would quickly disappear beneath the weight of tragedy welling up o­n the other side of the Indian Ocean.

But when I returned to check up o­n Owen a few days later for some more shots, I began to realize that the tiny mammal snuggling up to the centenarian reptile, was at the beginnings of a truly remarkable and captivating relationship. Watching the friendship develop has been a privilege of course, but it has also forced a rethink about what it all means.

Some scientists insist that we cannot and should not apply human emotions to our animal cousins. They argue that we have no way of knowing what is really going o­n in the minds of these two creatures. We should therefore not presume they are feeling anything remotely the way we do about our friends or family.

But seeing the bond grow between these individuals from two entirely different species and two entirely different ages, it has been hard to see it as anything other than a genuine love and affection. As with humans, it seems to be the little gestures that give it away.

Owen will often stand motionless by his guardian’s shoulder, his head tilted slightly towards Mzee’s. Occasionally, when he thinks nobody is watching, Owen will plant a sloppy lick across Mzee’s cheek; and when Owen is off exploring a corner of the forest, Mzee will wait in a clearing, staring at the bush until his friend finally emerges. The hippo also seems uncommonly protective, charging any stranger that dares venture too close to the tortoise.

Remember; Owen is a wild animal. Mzee has been around humans long enough to be tame, but the baby hippo has spent o­nly a relatively short time in captivity. Even then it has been with very limited human contact. His behaviour has not been learned from anyone other than his own family or his genes.

Perhaps that is what makes the story of Owen and Mzee so powerful; the fact that it is so unexpected. After all, every animal behaviour expert we’ve spoken to is at a loss to explain it. Herpetologists tell us reptiles are purely creatures of instinct that could never respond to a mammal, however affectionate they may be. Yet Mzee seems undeniably happy to have Owen around. Behaviouralists say Owen will eventually grow to understand that the old tortoise is not of his kind, and go his own way. Yet every time I go out to take photographs, he seems as bonded as ever to his old friend.

Owen and Mzee have come together o­nly because of the unusual circumstances of Owen’s separation from his family, his transfer to Haller Park, and the fact that they now share a big space to live in. But it seems to be a powerful sign that all of us – hippos and tortoises included – need the support of family and friends; and that it doesn’t matter if we can’t be near our blood-kin.

Then again, perhaps it doesn’t matter what Owen and Mzee are thinking. Perhaps it is enough that we humans are able to learn something simply from watching them.

Peter Greste
Photographer

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