Mannaz

'Thus counselled my mother,/ For me should they purchase/ A galley and good oars/ To go forth a-roving.’
--Egill Skalla-Grímsson, Egils saga
[December 9 marks a Day of Remembrance in the Ásatrú tradition honoring 10th century Icelandic hero Egill Skalla-Grímsson, whose exploits are told in the Eddas (sagas). One scholar has described Egill as

[f]ierce, self-willed, and violent... also a fine poet and a man with a sense of ethics. A wanderer, Egill epitomizes the Viking urge to travel out into the unknown world seeking adventure and fortune. With a combination of Courage, Brawn, and Intelligence, this first-generation Icelander survives war and treachery as he journeys through Scandinavia, the Baltic lands, England, Saxony, and Friesland. [caps mine]

Storytellers often note Egill’s unusual appearance: dark, with thickened facial features and a misshapen skull “like a helm’s rock.” Modern medical experts, examining his bones, concluded he suffered from Paget’s Disease, which can cause the face to take on a “lion-like appearance” (a condition called Leontiasis ossea), accompanied by headaches, deafness, and blindness. Though some cite the condition as a cause for Egill’s famous beserker rages, the stories show even as a child--when the disease was probably asymptomatic--he had a violent temper. Despite this illness, Egill survived his violent times and died of natural causes in his 90s. He seemed the perfect personage to ask about the Ásatrú runic virtue of Mannaz (Daring).] 
*    *    *
Ten Thousand Virtues: Hail, Egill Skalla-Grímsson! We bid you welcome and greet you with mead. [Produces a drinking horn.]
Egill Skalla-Grímsson [a bit warily]: Hail, stranger. I receive your gift of mjaðar gladly, but... Have you any bjórr?
TTV  [flummoxed]: Ehr... Hold on. [Though the magic of Imagination, produces a larger horn full of bjórr.] How’s that?

ESK [receiving the horn]: Ah, yes. Makes my heart glad. We have no need for mjaðar, you see, for I, as skald [poet] bring the Suttungmjaðar, Suttungr’s Draft. But the Mead of Poetry cannot flow until we ride the Dwarf’s Ship [“ride the Dwarf’s  Ship”=kenning or poetic expression for “intoxication”-ed.].
TTV [a bit surprised]: Oh! Um, okay. [Gestures to conveniently materializing hearthfire behind him.] Have a seat. I understand you enjoyed resting by the fire in your later years.  
ESK [gratified]: Ahhhh, yes.... I sang a stave on it once, when the rude young maidens who tended the hearth fires complained that I, a mighty hero, who deserved their honor, was getting in the way of their ash-sweeping! [Closes eyes and recites:]

'Blind near the blaze I wander,

Beg of the fire-maid pardon,

Crave for a seat. Such sorrow

From sightless eyes I bear.

Yet England's mighty monarch

Me whilom greatly honoured:

And princes once with pleasure

The poet's accents heard.'

TTV: Yes, your exploits are still remembered in our day, more than a thousand years after you passed, including your battles as a knight of King Athelstan of England... Egill, you are known as a master of the Runes, and Runic magic. I wonder if you can tell us about the Runic virtue of Mannaz?
ESK [considering]: Ah, Mannaz. Well, remember, young stranger, that those Nine Noble Virtues your modern Folk honor was not a notion familiar to men of the olden times. The ways of them be ours, however. I deem it fitting to use Rune names for them.

TTV [prompting]: Some say Mannaz means Vigor, or Daring, or Energy.  
ESK: Yes, those all have a piece of the sense of it. Mannaz is the way of a leader, a warrior. To be ahead of the pack, not one of the pack--that is Mannaz. Boldness.
TTV: Would you say your life is an example of Mannaz? I understand you showed Daring even at a young age. Your surprising Strength in childhood fights, which included slaying a boy who cheated at a game; your feud with the family of Queen Gunnhildr and King Eirik Bloodaxe; your adventures across foreign lands... What would you say was the moment of your greatest Mannaz?
ESK: Well, there be many of those. But as skald, perhaps my greatest was not in a battle of blood, but a battle of wits. One time during my travels, I shipwrecked in Northumbria, where my mortal enemies Eirik Bloodaxe and Gunnhildr ruled in exile from what you now call Norway. You see, I had cast a Runic curse called a níð against Eirik, using a horse’s head raised on a pole. It’s why he had to flee Norway. Once he got me in his clutches, he planned to chop off my head.
TTV [horrified] What did you do?
ESK: Over the night, while under house arrest at the home of my friend Arinbjorn, I composed a drápa I called Höfuðlausn ["Head's Ransom"]. The next morning, I recited it before Eirik.
TTV: How did he react?
ESK: He didn’t really want to, but he had to let me go. It would have dishonored him to kill a skald who immortalized him in song, you see.
TTV: Ah... So that suggests that Mannaz is not just about brute Will, but Wit as well?
ESK: That’s the truth of it.
TTV: Thank you very much, Egill. I wonder, would you honor us, in closing, by reciting the last part of your Höfuðlausn?

ESK: A righteous way to close, young stranger. [Stands, with difficulty, and raises his large, heavy head, to recite with Ferocity:]

'Silence I have broken,

A sovereign's glory spoken:

Words I knew well-fitting

Warrior-council sitting.

Praise from heart I bring,

Praise to honoured king:

Plain I sang and clear

Song that all could hear.'

*    *    *
May we see the gates of Mannaz, and perhaps make a home there.

N'giouele

Ask not what your country can do for you. Ask what you can do for your country.
--John F. Kennedy, inaugural address, January 20, 1961

Have you ever felt like a kingdom? I don’t mean like a king, I mean like a kingdom: Purple mountain majesties swooping down into fruited plains, giving way to ample hips and a belly round and swayed with fat--and when I say fat I smile as I say it and I mean it for the good thing it is: fat of the land.  

Swing your arms out, child. Feel the rain caress your body. Feel it sink into your bones of granite and lime. Feel the sweet sun kiss your face. Feel what’s live, the vibe erupting out in a cacophony of trees, their hungry roots sucking on your sweet flowing breasts, the birds in your hair, the dandelion seeds cascading over your leafy skin, the sky in your eyes which are bright pools. Think like a mountain...

Feel your people. Feed your people, your countrymen, from your bounty. You are the Mother and the Father of the nation. Your Abundance nourishes the future, Abiding the past.

Listen, child, and you will hear the steady drumbeat, moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees, the mountains and the rivers. From the blolo, where the spirits of the ancestors reside, you can hear their drums. Follow them all the way across the waters, to the First Country, between where the Comoé and the Bandama flow. Here you will find the story of the Old Man, who was a king, and a kingdom.

When Old Man was born, he was a king, a chief, and his relatives called him Dia, “The Magician.” As the day grew older, he became a doctor. As the day grew still older, he became a plantation boss, a union leader, a member of the French Parliament. And yet Old Man was every bit still a king, and the bounty of his Inner Country became that of his Outer Country. When the other nations starved, his nation prospered. When the other nations fought wars, his nation had peace. When other nations built weapons, he built churches. His reign was called “the Miracle.”

When a great person arises, and puts their great talents to use for the good of the whole community, the people have a name for this virtue. They call it N’giouele (Giftedness).

---
Seventeen years ago today, the great African statesman Félix Houphouët-Boigny, the first President of Côte d'Ivoire, passed away. Originally a village chief of the Baoulé people, “Papa Houphouët” became a doctor, plantation boss, union leader, and member of the French Parliament before rising to guide his country out of the colonial era. The success of his regime was known as the “Ivorian Miracle.”

Within each of us lies an undiscovered country--an Abundance of talents and gifts. How do we cultivate this Inner Country, whose fruited plains feed our fellows? How do we, like Dia Houphouët-Boigny, manifest our own N’giouele?

May we see the gates of N’giouele, and perhaps make a home there.

--
Image of painting Fruited Plains, by artist Elfred Lee, gratefully acknowledged.

Soithnges

They are eloquent who can speak low things acutely, and of great things with dignity, and of moderate things with temper.
--Marcus Tullius Cicero  

Today marks the anniversary of the delivery of the last of the four famed Cataline Orations, spoken by Marcus Tullius Cicero to save the Roman Republic. Cicero’s profound learning, combined with his passion for democracy, gave him great powers of persuasion. He makes a fitting study for the Celtic virtue of Soithnges (Eloquence).

The Old Irish Soithnges, translated as “Eloquence” or “Persuasion,” derives from so (“good”) + tengae (“tongue”), literally a "good tongue." It’s the second Celtic virtue we’ve encountered on TTV, Cubus being the first. Both come from a set of fifteen virtues discussed in the Audacht Morainn (“The Testament of Morand”), written around 700 C.E. Old Irish legend says the Audracht outlines the teachings of Morand, who guided Feradach Find Fechtnach to become Ireland’s greatest High King.

The Audracht is what scholars call a “Mirror for Princes”: a manual for future kings on how to rule wisely. Such texts often reveal the belief that Justice in the kingdom depends on the virtues of the king. The greatest of such manuals comes not from Europe, in my mind, but from the East, in the Analects of Confucius.

Confucius, however, maintained that Eloquence, like Courage, while a necessary ingredient in making Virtue, did not constitute a virtue unto itself: “One who has accumulated virtue will certainly also possess eloquence; but he who has eloquence does not necessarily possess virtue.” (Analects 14:5).

Many traditions take a similar view to Confucius (who was not, I might point out, known for his verbal skills; history awards that distinction to his student, Mencius). The Bahá'í faith, for example, lists Qawl (Speech) as one of twenty Divine qualities naming the months in their calendar. In the Tablets of Bahá'u’lláh, however, it also warns: “Oh people of Bahá! Ye are the dawning-places of the love of God and the daysprings of His loving-kindness. Defile not your tongues with the cursing and reviling of any soul.”

The Jewish middot likewise include Seyag LiD'varav, sometimes translated as Guarding One’s Speech--avoiding petty or harmful forms of speech. The middot, however, also include Arichat Sefatayim, Right Speech: speaking Truth and not making claims one can’t support. Theravadan Buddhists also cite this identical principle as Samma Vaca. Soithnges likewise embeds within it the notion of “good”--meaning in my mind not simply Skill, but also Beneficence. The Irish judge Morand imparted this virtue to King Feradach to promote not just power, after all, but Justice.

Cicero’s Cataline Orations, which saved Rome from rebels driven more by personal ambition and greed than by Justice, qualify as a fine example Soithnges. Cicero, son of a minor noble family, amassed an impressive education in the teachings of the Greeks--including rhetoric--and translated their wisdom into Latin. His zest for philosophical argument honed his speech into a powerful tool to edify and persuade listeners. If any skill satisfies Dione Fortune’s definition of magic--the “art of changing consciousness at will”--the oratory of Cicero certainly does.  

Cicero climbed the ladder of civil service, eventually becoming in 63 B.C.E. one of Rome’s two consuls, who shared control of the nation. One of his rivals for control of the nation was Catalina, who, after failing to get elected consul for a second time, began using open bribery to buy votes. Catalina’s followers included noblemen who could not pay their debts and saw an opportunity to make some money. The rebels formed an army and planned to murder Cicero in a coup d’etat.

Cicero, catching wind of the plot, drew attention to it in the first of his four Cataline Orations. The subsequent speeches directed the army of Rome to defeat the rebels; informed the citizens of the victory; and advocated execution of the surviving plotters. An overview of the full story can be found here.

“The pen is mightier than the sword,” wrote Edward Bulwer-Lytton. Modern day activists often cite the importance of Speaking Truth to Power. The worldwide drama unfolding at this very minute from the acts of Wikileaks founder Julian Assange, who threatened entrenched world powers simply by opening up their vault of secrets, demonstrates this. I am not sure if the manner of Assange’s reveal constitutes Soithnges, but it surely captures part of its spirit.

Today, take a moment to consider how the application of speech to enlighten people with Truth constitutes a power for Justice. How have you, in your own life, used the right words at the right time to move a friend or loved one into the light of Truth? Claim your Soithnges.

May we see the gates of Soithnges, and perhaps make a home there. 

Luminosity

[We] are luminous beings. We are perceivers. We are an awareness; we are not objects; we have no solidity. We are boundless.
--Carlos Casteneda, Tales of Power

Today we celebrate the birthday of Georges Seurat, the 19th Century French painter. He died at age 31, leaving us just a literal handful of paintings. Yet Seurat gained fame for taking the breakthroughs of the Impressionists another quantum leap forward. His pioneering painting techniques applied scientific insights into the nature of light and color to pursue Luminosity, the subject of today’s meditation.

Seurat grew up in Paris. His father, an odd man, lived three miles away from the apartment in which Georges and his two siblings dwelt with their gentle mother. An introvert, Georges spent his time in local parks drawing the other children and passersby--which may explain why his few and famous paintings mostly depict park scenes. After attending art school and serving in the army, he set up a studio on the West Bank. Impressionism had electrified the Parisian art scene, and gave Seurat a starting point. The Impressionists aimed to reproduce viewers’ subjective experience of movement, light, and color in the real world on the canvas.

To understand Seurat, we must review a bit of optics, the science of light and color. Isaac Newton showed that prisms split light into constituent colors. Unlike the creation of colors with paint pigments--mixes of red, blue, and yellow--the creation of colors with light uses red, blue, and green. A French chemist and tapestry restorer, Michel Chevreul, likewise noticed that adjacent colored threads on a tapestry produced a different perceived color when viewed from a distance. In other words, the beholder had a different perception of color in her eye, and mind, than one would obtain staring at the tapestry threads up close.

Seurat believed one could thus simulate the true experience of vision by applying to the canvas not the pigments that crudely aped the colors of the real world, but rather eleven “spectral hues” that, applied in small points, would, at a distance, induce in the viewer’s mind yet a different color. Unlike the Impressionists, who used instinct to reproduce this experience of vision, Seurat believed science could offer a rational approach to painting. The use of colored dots of pigment to produce yet a different color with greater Luminosity is called pointillism.

The Impressionists did not know what to make of 25-year-old Seurat, and at their Exhibition they literally hid his first painting, Bathers at Asnières, behind a door in a dark corner. With Perseverance, however, Seurat continued to paint, and after three years unveiled A Sunday on La Grande Jatte, a masterpiece. This painting got the attention of the successors to the Impressionists, and Seurat’s work anticipated that of later greats like Picasso and Matisse.

Seurat’s painting shows that our experience of the world takes place in our own minds, rather than what might actually be out there in the “real world.” The quality of Luminosity--defined in optics, art, and astronomy as “the quality of emitting or reflecting light”--can also refer, in the Buddhist canon, to a virtuous quality of one’s own mind. His Holiness the Dalai Lama explains:

In relation to the nature of mind, what is luminosity?... Say you look at an object which doesn’t have bright colours but is rather subdued in colour and not very attractive. And you look at it for a while. Then, while looking at this object, you make the determination: ‘I shall retain my concentration in order to focus my attention upon my own perception, upon my own experience. And I shall not allow myself to be distracted by other objects, external or internal.’

In other words, Luminosity refers to a state of Sati (Mindfulness) where you recognize that your experience of “reality” lies only in your perceptions of the world within your mind. Just as the colors one sees in a Seurat painting are not the ones on the canvas, but an optical phenomenon within your brain, your experience of your “reality” lies within your mind. The path to Enlightenment requires passage through Luminosity--recognition that our own perceptions, pleasant or not, can distract us if we mistake them for having inherent existence.

A recent commentary from Aeptha, founder of the aptly-named Light Haven mystery school, speaks to this. In a discussion on another virtue, the quality of Surrender, Aeptha points out that for those on the spiritual path, we must recognize the distractions offered to us by our own insecurities: “Defeat seems to be about identifying with all the perceptions that our ego tells us is real.” Seeing perceptions as just that--perceptions--requires Effort and Concentration.

Today, take a moment to appreciate the splendor of Seurat’s luminous canvases, and the insight that the perceptions within our minds are distinct from “reality.” Minding this distinction attains the Lightness of being, the clear mind, that takes us along our path.

May we see the gates of Luminosity, and perhaps make a home there.