, , , , , , , ,

In weaving, the warp is laid down first, lengthwise, and generally on a frame of some sort.  The weft is then woven, over and under, up and down, line by line, to create an entire piece of cloth.  They are so integrated that to remove either the weft or the warp completely destroys the fabric that has been produced, leaving it in a tangle of threads.

As an allegory, I think this describes perfectly how the material and immaterial (definition #2) weave together the fabric of the Universe.  So much so, that I don’t see a division (in the final product) between the physical reality of the universe and the non-physical reality of the universe.  There is a difference, yes…but not a division.

In a previous Pagan Blog Project post, I talked about a reoccurring theme on this blog, the idea of loving where you live.  I worship (and by worship I mean that I celebrate, revere, honor, adore, devote myself to, make offerings to, and regard with awe and deference) nature (and by little-n nature I mean rocks and trees and lakes and ponds and birds and crocodiles and slime mold and slugs) as the physical body of Nature (and by big-N Nature, I mean The Big Mystery, aka The Divine, aka The Universe, aka Nature’s Consciousness) through the language and symbolism of deity (and by deity, I mean individual gods like Zeus or Brigid).

Admittedly, the idea of nature worship can be an idea that is not without its difficulties,  difficulties that  another blogger has tackled pretty thoroughly (if you click and read any links, read these two!).    But this post really isn’t about that.  This post is more about how, when I talk to nature, Nature often talks back.  And how, when I talk to Nature, nature often talks back as well.  And how I have chosen (or been chosen) to interpret deity/divinity in a particular way.  How we have all been chosen to interpret deity and divinity in particular ways, rooted in our own independent and individual experiences of them.

D is for Divine

Last time, for the PBP, I talked about consciousness.  The ultimate question of consciousness is the question of how the physical processes occurring in the brain (such as those that occur when sensing an event) transform into the subjective experiences of the person?  What makes the firing of neurons, the flow of electrons, the transmission of neurotransmitters become something that is unique to each person, that can ultimately be seen differently, felt differently?  So far, this is a question that is unanswerable by science–not because we lack the technology or understanding, but because it is largely untestable.

In my post, I talked about ourselves as a “cauldron of consciousness”, that I think that the place where we meet That Which Is Divine, however it chooses to reveal itself to us (or how we are able to interpret it) is here, in the space between sensing something and experiencing it.  For me, deity is nature–it is rock and tree and sea and sky.  It is also Nature–as Rock and Tree and Sea and Sky.  They are separate, but so tightly woven together that they are one.  For me, my experience of deity has worn into my brain an idea that isn’t quite animism, or pantheism, or polytheism, but  contains elements of each.

When I go to the beach and make an offering to Psamathe, I am honoring the beach itself–the convergence of the physical elements and magical ones, as much as the Nereid of Greek mythology.  I believe in a Divine Universe, woven  into the physicality of the physical universe, where everything is ensouled.

This post is a contribution for the Pagan Blog Project. Be sure to check out the other contributors, and enjoy!