Exploring new interpretations
Articles on archaeology, folklore and mythology
Full index to At the Edge issues 1 to 10. Contents of back issues of At the Edge Why At the Edge merged with 3rd Stone.
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Sacred Places: Prehistory and popular imagination
This book looks back at the days of At the Edge and other 'Earth Mysteries' 'zines and provides detailed discussions of many of the topics outlined here.
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Landscapes and mindscapesBob TrubshawAnd how can one imagine oneself among themI do not know; It was all so unimaginably different And all so long ago. Louis MacNeice Autumn journal When we look at the world, what do we see? If this seems like a daft way to start an article, then try a slightly different question. When Australian aborigines look at the world, what do they see? More to the point, do they see what we see? And if there's some doubt - as I hope you are already beginning to anticiapte - about whether this last point can be answered positively, then another suspicion comes to mind: When a bronze age person looked at their world of stone circles and burial mounds, what did they see?
In a very real sense, we never see the world as something purely physical. Even an idyllic sunlit stretch of English countryside is valued as much by what it is
What we see, we see as 'tourists'. 'Spectacle' and easily-comprehended concepts avoid the detailed assessment or overall surveys of the more thorough archaeological fieldworkers. We do not, for instance, see these places as 'pilgrims', as would have been the norm for our pre-reformation forebears. Indeed, it is the protestants who fully take the blame for (literally) 'desecrating' the tradition of sacredness of place, creating the anomaly of mankind's first secular landscapes [1].
Add to this the prevalent 'National Trust' cosy world view of the past, where we have to believe all our predecesors were wealthy and tasteful (so that today's affluent fill their homes with nostalgic bricabrac sucked in by a vacuum created by their lack of discerning taste or aesthetic sensibilties). But don't be too cynical of others - Earth mysteries is far from exempt from this search for idyllic idealism. Although there is superficial lip-service to the harsh realities of earlier epochs, too much EM writing reveals an outlook which harks back to a lost 'Golden Age' - if not in material terms, then as regards a now-forgotten wisdom and life style. The latest twist of this fashion is to consider our prehistoric ancestors to be a model of 'Green' existence, in harmony with the land. Whereas, as even scant archaeological environmental evidence soon reveals, from the neolithic onwards mankind was making major and irreversible changes to the flora and fauna of his habitat, changing various thin-soiled uplands from successful farm land into the arid moorlands of, say, Dartmoor or Bodmin Moor.
Almost by definition, readers of Mercian Mysteries regard certain aspects of the past - be it megalithic monuments, holy springs, medieval churches, or such like - in a different way to 'modern' features, just as in the same way a railway architecture buff or a Victoriana adept will look on the backstreets of any European city in a different way to the normal person.
And what would a person not brought up with Westernised consciousness make of any of this? Well, for a start there are no people alive who have had no contact with European cultural bigotry and domination. To some extent certain African tribes have kept their traditional ways, some Australian aborigines have hung grimly onto their own values despite the aggression of their white neighbours, and (as Alan Ereira's stunning Heart of the world TV programme revealed) the Kogi indians in Columbia have had minimal contact with the West, at least since the sixteenth century.
The writings of James Cowan and others with first-hand experience of Aboriginal ways have enabled us to have some insight into their outlook [2]. What emerges is at once both tantalising and almost incomprehensible. Their attitude to property, for instance, is quite unlike our own. Although 'personal' possessions are necessary, they are generally to be kept to a minimum. After quite a brief period of time belongings are best passed on as gifts; indeed, to be considered to be 'hanging on' to an artifact is very bad form. So aboriginal possessions make up a constant flux of gifts and reciprocal offerings.
And when we come to aboriginal concepts of land, we enter a world view almost beyond our comprehension. Not only does no individual 'own' land, even a tribal group only has rights over particular areas through a complex matrilineal system of descent, where the 'land rights' take the form of knowing the mythology of a certain tract of land. By chanting the relevant 'myth' an aboriginal can not only demonstrate that he belongs to a certain tribal area but, in a sense which is very real to that individual, they can 'sing' the land into existence. Cowan reports driving along traditional 'songlines' accompanied by locals, who only recognise where they are if they can 'sing up the country'. Bearing in mind that these songs were concieved for travel at walking pace, some virtuousity is needed to recite fast enough to keep up with a fast-moving 4x4.
But fundamental aspects of Aboriginal culture are more deeply integrated. Just as the land is indistinguishable from the myths which describe it, so their language is deeply integrated into their mythology. In a a very real sense their land is their myth is their language.
The key landmarks in Australian landscape myths are waterholes, natural boulders, distinctive trees, hallowed ritual places, and the like. Take away the myths which link them into the 'song lines' and we are left with the same ingredients which make up the staple fare of an Mercian Mysteries field trip - except that if there was ever a story linking them all up, we have lost it (yep, that old hoary chestnut of 'lost wisdom' creeps in again).
If the Australian aborigines certainly see the world in a different way to ourselves, then the Columbian Kogi Mamas are even further removed from Westernised thought patterns. The Kogi are the only South American tribe to have retained their way of life more-or-less free from European influence. The Mamas are the traditional leaders of their people and (despite the English associations of the word) are mostly male. They are selected at birth and spend the first nine years of their life in a darkened cave and never see the outside world or sunlight. All this time they are taught orally. This training has much in common with what is known about the Druids; indeed, their role and standing in the community have much in common. We cannot even guess how a young Mama reacts when he sees for the first time what we consider to be the 'real' world.
But this strange upbringing is the least of the differences. The Mamas constantly chew coca (activated with lime) and are able to spend many days and nights continuously in a meditative state of mind. Every aspect of Kogi life is controlled by the Mamas; the Mamas themselves rely on divination for most, if not all, decisions. They see their role as working alongside the people - while the majority of the population work the fields or the looms on the 'physical plane' the Mamas are working with them on the 'spiritual plane' or, in their language, in aluna.
Tantalisingly, the Kogi lands are criss-crossed by man-made tracks and staircases up and down the mountain ridges. The Kogi walk these paths all the time, transporting the produce of one region to other areas. But the paths are also sacred. We know that when the Kogi clean and repair these paths then, while most of the workforce are engaged in physical tasks, at least one person is ritual sweeping the path clean 'spiritually'. In passing, it may be noted that similar 'ritual sweeping' is known for the enigmatic Nazca lines and, nearer home, seems to have been a part of plough plays who commonly contain among the participants a broom-weilding, cross-dressing 'Besom Betty' [3]
The Kogis are known to have a prominent stone which appears to show a map of the trackways. Yet, the lines do not match up with the 200-or-so miles of Kogi tracks known by anthrolpologists and archaeologists. Instead, the stone seems to be showing a different system of 'networks' and relationships - perhaps a 'map' of the spirit world.
'When we look at a monument like Stonehenge or Avebury, we see the rocks, stones, mounds - the visible features. Because it is those visible features that archaeology is involved with. But we must remember . . . that the people who built or put up those things were seeing something else. That monument existed not merely in a physical landscape but in a symbolic landscape full of all sorts of meanings. And, indeed, in a landscape that may have been perceived in other levels of consciousness. So, we are looking at something that is a bit like a dream. It is a bit like trying to remember one of our dreams we had last night or the night before. It is a fragment that rears its head out of larger subliminal sea.
'Now, when we look for the remnants of the spirit landscape we are looking at the ancient monuments, the old stones. But spirit landscapes usually come in three particular types: necropolis type of landscape; 'ways' or lines (usually straight) through the landscape - what I have been calling 'shamanic landscapes' for the last year or two; and, thirdly, there are effigy mounds or other configurations in the landscape, often symbolising animals, human beings or cosmological imagery. There is a good deal of effigy mounds and earthworks in South America, for instance.
'These are the physical remnants of that spirit mindscape.'
Opening remarks from a talk on 'Spirit landscapes' by Paul Devereux at The Ley Hunter Moot, September 1993
'Spontaneous altered states of consciousness are endemic in any "normal" population and cultural beliefs exert primary influence upon the content.' [4]
If Jaynes is correct, then such audible hallucinations were not only common but also highly organised. A person who addressed a question to a statue or idol would hear the reply, rather as a piece of furniture speaks to a schizophrenic. Extending this just a little further allows conversations with standing stones, cave paintings, even burning bushes. Extended in another direction it also accounts for head cults - where the deceased ancestors continue to speak to their descendents - and fits explicitly with the Celtic tales of Bran's head; indeed, it would give a pre-eminent rationale to the widespread head cults and the veneration of dead kings as living gods [5].
While there may be some rewarding insights into the consciousness and neurophysiology of such internal voices, it has to be said that much of Jaynes original book mistakes the evolution of human artistic, literary and religious expression for the evolution of consciousness and becoms rather a quagmire of generalised scenarios.
Accept, at least for the moment, the idea of gods and goddesses speaking to individuals directly. Add the scenario proposed by Gordon Wasson et al in Persephone's quest (Yale University Press 1986) to the effect that early and Classical religious rituals might also involve the profoundly altered states of consciousness induced by psychoactive plants such as ergot, Psilocybe spp. or Amanita muscaria. These make up a powerful scenario which would lead to religious experiences far removed from Bible-bashing sermons and assine hymn singing. Deities evoked in such settings would indeed be deserving of worship!
Adapted from the article originally published in Mercian Mysteries No.19 May 1994.
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