War in an age of innocence: 5

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Kiri wandered around for a while. As usual, he did not feel like playing with the other boys. Most of them were younger, and the few older boys were always busy with other things and did not share his interests anyway. He went to the shore and helped the Danai with some of the loading and then went back to see if his Aunt had finished talking with Urho. Now they were both talking with his parents. He did not approach them for he saw that they all kept glancing his way as they spoke. He thought that they were either saying things that they did not want him to hear, or were talking about him. Either way, he thought it better to stay at a respectful distance, out of earshot.

At length, Boro called out to him.

“Come here Kiri, there is something we have to discuss”

His father’s voice sounded stern and his mother’s eyes were downcast. She was biting her lower lip. She looked worried. Kiri wondered if he was in trouble for something, but he could not think of what it could be. Both his Aunt Vara and Urho looked very cheerful, and this added to his confusion. He walked slowly over to them and stood very still. Kiri’s father glanced at his mother with a concerned look on his face and then looked at Kiri.

“Your Aunt Vara has decided to go back to Urho’s land with him. She feels that it is her place to be your tutor, and we all have known for some time that you are not happy with your life here, or with the idea of following my trade. Your mother, of course, is very worried about you leaving, even though Urho has promised to bring you back on his next voyage in the spring. Vara holds her duties here in high regard, and while there are many others who study her craft and know much of the wisdom of the Oneness, she feels that you are destined to eventually take her place”.

A flood of thoughts passed through Kiri’s mind. He thought of the long night voyage; he thought of seeing the wooden houses of Urho’s home; and then he remembered the questions he had wanted to ask his Aunt Vara, but now they all seemed silly and childish to him. He felt very small and he wondered if he would ever be wise. He looked at his mother. There were tears in her eyes. He flew into his mother’s arms and buried his face in her dress, hoping that his own tears would not be noticed. He waited for a few moments in order to compose himself, put on his most confident-sounding voice and said:

“Don’t worry Mother, I will be safe with Aunt Vara and Urho. It will be an adventure for me and I will see you next year.”

“I know you will” she replied, “it’s just that you have never been away that long and I will miss you so much.”

Boro put his arms around the both of them.

“You are growing up, Kiri. I will miss you too, but I’m very proud of you. It is a great thing to follow your destiny instead of being swept along as if by the tides. Now, gather what you would like to bring with you. The Danai have to set sail very soon.”

Kiri released his grip on Mara and looked up at her and his father. They were both smiling at him.

“I’m proud of you, too,” Mara said, “Mothers just get silly at these times, so don’t you fret about me. Learn lots of things and enjoy your adventure.”

“I will.”

Kiri ran back to the house, thinking of the things that he would take. Most important would be some of the things that his parents had made for him. He wanted to keep his parents close, in his heart. His initial fears were fading and were being replaced with a feeling of excitement for what was ahead of him. He thought about the night journey across the sea. He felt that when the sun came up after that night, it would be like being born again. It would be the start of a new life.

As the boat pulled away from the village, Kiri stood at the stern waving to his parents. The sea was a bit choppy, but he held on to the tall stern and kept waving until his parents became too small in the distance. Danai boats had very tall bows and sterns to battle with the high waves nearer their home. The choppiness of the rocky coast gave way to the swells of the deep, open sea as the land vanished from sight. The boat found its own rhythm with the sea and Kiri could feel himself becoming one with it. Vara and Urho were engaged in conversation, but she glanced back to Kiri every now and again, and smiled. Kiri was lost in his thoughts and in the rhythm of the sea and the boat.

The air grew colder as the sun started to melt into the sea. There were almost no clouds in the sky and Kiri kept watch for the first star to appear. He knew that the Danai followed the stars, at night and he wondered how the Danai navigated when it was too cloudy to see them. It was the time of the New Moon, and he remembered that his Aunt Vara had told him that this was a good time to start things. He wondered if his aunt would have gone with Urho if it were not a New Moon. By the time that the sea had completely swallowed the sun and no trace was left of its light, the sky was full of stars. Kiri lay down on a sheepskin-covered cushion and gazed up at them. Vara came over to him and covered him with a blanket.

“Go to sleep Kiri. Tomorrow you will see many wonderful things, and meet many new friends.”

The motion of the sea worked its magic on Kiri and his eyes grew heavy and he fell asleep. Then strange visions came to him: on the horizon was a darkness that moved toward him. As it came closer the stars began to vanish. It was not the darkness of an approaching storm, for he could still see the colour of the night sky. It was something else. He had never been afraid of the dark. To him the darkness at night was but part of the Oneness, he even found comfort in it, like a warm blanket when it was cold outside. This darkness was different to that. He felt an overwhelming sense of danger, like nothing he had experienced before. One thought kept coming to him, over and over again: “It is the Other, It is the Other.” He did not understand: no one had ever mentioned anything about an Other to him. He felt the danger as repulsion. Every fibre of his being was screaming: “No! It can’t be, it can’t be.”

He had seen animals hunt other animals and watched the dance between the predator and the prey. There was always something of a game about it, and the prey, at some point, would come to an understanding with their hunter and allow themselves to be caught. It was all part of the Oneness, and the Great Serpent who kept the rhythm for all to follow conducted the dance. The bodies would come and go, but the life was always there. This was not like that in any way.

As the darkness approached closer, the form of the Great Serpent become visible. It was fleeing from the darkness, and every once in a while it would stop, coil, and strike at the darkness. But its fangs found nothing to make contact with, and it would resume its flight away from that darkness yet again. The darkness had a weight, but no substance. It pushed down on Kiri as he slept. He screamed.

Kiri opened his eyes and sat up. The first light of morning illuminated the concerned face of his Aunt Vara who was crouched at his side.

“You must have had a very bad dream, to scream like this. Some of the Danai are sleeping; it’s a wonder you did not wake everyone up. You certainly surprised those who are sailing the boat!”

“Oh it was horrible, Aunt Vara, I saw…”

“Shhh! Kiri. We do not talk of such things when we are at sea. It is a custom of the Danai to leave such discussion for when land is safely reached.”

Kiri lowered his voice to a whisper.

“Aunt Vara, is there an Other that is separate from the Oneness?”

“Don’t be silly. If there was something other than the Oneness, then there could not be a Oneness, could there?”

“Is there something that has weight but no substance?”

Vara thought about this for a few moments.

“I suppose there is. When people became unaware of some aspect of the Oneness, they feel it as weight upon them. They become bowed down from it as if they are carrying a heavy load. That is part of what we do for them, we show them how what they are upset about is still part of the Oneness. When we do that, it is as if they have put down their load. They see that whatever it was is just another aspect of the Oneness that they were unfamiliar with. Whatever it was that was bothering them ceases to do so and they become happy again. When they are aware of the Oneness again, it smiles on them and their lives improve. They see how everything is connected and that they are part of it all. So that weight without substance that you speak of can be nothing more than ignorance. The Oneness can always overcome that.”

Kiri lowered his voice even more.

“But Aunt Vara, I saw the Great Serpent running from it. It kept stopping to strike at the darkness that chased it, but there was nothing there for it to bite, and it had to keep running.”

Kiri saw a fleeting expression of sadness cross his aunt’s face. It was the same look that he saw when he had asked her about the meaning of the circle, and she had told him that there were those that could not find the quietness at the centre.

“ I think that you have had an omen, Kiri. I knew from all of your questions in the past that you were capable of such things. I get them too, but not as vividly, and they lack details. There is something important that you must do one day. I have known it for a long time. When I said that you would eventually take my place, I meant that it would be me that would begin to learn things from you. It seems that this time has already started. We will discuss this more when we have landed and explored our new home.”

Kiri became aware of the sound made by a large number of white sea birds that were wheeling around above them, and he saw the shape of hills in the distance with smoke rising up from fires here and there. Urho suddenly blocked Kiri's view of all of that and looked down at them, impatiently.

“We’re home, you two! Get busy and gather up all of your stuff. There will be plenty of time for talk when we are feasting around the home fire”.

[The next episode will appear on Monday: Kiri marvels at his new home and meets a very special girl. Also, I have decided to preview twelve chapters instead of the originally planned ten. The main reasons being that one of the sub-plots will be resolved and the main theme of the novel will be introduced. Have an adventurous weekend!]


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projected cover layout for War in an age of innocence

Link to Chapter 1

Cover photograph adapted from Skara Brae-passages by Danielhbordeleau. 

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War in an age of innocence: 4

Link to Chapter 1

When Urho had finished his story everyone raised their arms to share it with the Oneness and Vara stepped into the centre. This surprised Kiri, for he had never heard Vara tell one of her stories to the village. Her usual gruff manner had vanished and she seemed rather shy and embarrassed at first as everyone settled in to listen. Regaining her composure, she gave everyone a short glance and started her story:

“A long time ago, the people of this village did not know how to plant grain. The Great Serpent took pity on them and gave them fields where this grain grew wild. After the earth swallowed the snow, the spring rains would come and the new green shoots would appear. The summer sun made them grow tall and the fields would soon show their appreciation by taking on the colour of the sun.

“The sun would become tired from all of that work. Even before the fields showed their thanks, the sun would spend less time in the sky each day. There were some days near the harvest time when the sun became very weak and the clouds would wrap themselves around the sun like a blanket so that the sun could keep itself warm and regain its strength for another day.

“The people of this village often worried at those times, for without the protection of the friendly sun, the fields could easily fall prey to things from the Darkness. What the village feared most was the Great Boar. Every year he would wait until the sun grew weak and then attack the fields and steal the grain. In some years he would be very hungry and he would leave almost nothing for the village, in other years he would take just a little, and then be on his way. If the sun could recover quickly enough he would vanish as soon as the sun cast off its blanket of clouds.

“The Great Boar always roared upon his arrival, and there would be great flashes of bright fire in the sky. Sometimes trees would catch fire, and the sky always tried to protect them with rain so that they would not burn easily. The Boar would rush about the fields, cutting some of the ears of grain from their stalks with his sharp tusks while the brush on his back would destroy even more. He charged around the fields so fast that he created a great wind and this wind would flatten the fields. He would eat his fill of the grain and trample the rest into the ground.

“The people always hid in their houses and they would hear him outside their doors, for he would also attack the village. Nothing was safe from his fury. When he was gone, the people would come out from their houses and set to work to save what they could. This happened more years than not and the people were always hungry. They tried to work faster, but they could not harvest the grain before it was ripe. At that time, they did things differently than we do now: they would walk through the fields with their baskets, collecting every ripe seed from the heads of grain and leaving the others to ripen. The Great Boar could arrive at any time so they tried to get as much as they could while they had a chance.

“The people of this village would wait until the boar had gone, and the next morning they would take their baskets to the fields to collect as much of the grain as they could. They had to eat that grain quickly because it was wet and spoiled easily. The grain that the boar had trampled into the ground would send up new shoots the following spring, but sometimes there was not so much as before.

“Late one year, just before the Great Boar came to raid the fields a hunter arrived in the village just before dawn. The people welcomed him and when they exchanged stories they told him of the Great Boar. He promised them that he would track the Great Boar to his lair and bring them back his head and pelt.

“That very night the Great Boar came, and in the morning when the people went out to gather what was left of the grain, the hunter went with them to search for the tracks and follow them to the lair of the Great boar. The hunter looked everywhere, but the rain had washed away all of the tracks. The hunter never broke a promise and he asked the people if they knew which direction the Great Boar would go after he left the fields, but the people told him that they always hid in their houses and they never saw the Great Boar leave.

“There was a wise woman who lived in the village, and this wise woman told the hunter that he would have to go and see the Great Serpent, for the Great Serpent must have sent the Great Boar to them. The hunter knew about the Great Serpent, and he knew that all the creatures that were sent by the Great Serpent were from the Darkness. Like the Great Boar, they were all dark creatures.

“The hunter walked out of the village determined to follow one of these dark creatures back to the abode of the Great Serpent. Once there, he could ask the great serpent for his help in tracking the Great Boar. The Great Serpent always helped those who sought him out. The hunter first encountered a raven, but as he walked slowly toward it, the raven became alarmed and took to the sky. Now this hunter was very clever, but he could not follow the raven into the sky, and the raven flew too fast for him to follow it on the ground.

“The hunter arrived at the sea and followed the shore until he came to some cliffs. He climbed the cliffs because there was no beach at that spot and the water was deep at the foot of those cliffs. He saw the white sea birds wheeling around. Every once in a while one of them would touch the water and fly up again with a small fish in its beak. Among the white sea birds was a dark bird: a cormorant. He watched the cormorant dive into the darkest part of the water and vanish below the waves. He waited, and after what seemed like a long time, the cormorant came up from the deep with a dark fish in his beak.

“The hunter was pleased: although he knew that he could not fly like the raven, he knew that he could dive like the cormorant. He watched for the bird to dive again, and quickly dived after him into the sea. The light began to fade as the hunter followed the cormorant deeper and deeper. He had started to wonder if he could hold his breath long enough when he saw a dark eel swim into a cave and he saw the cormorant follow after it. The hunter swam into the cave and the darkness surrounded him. He became very scared and could feel the air bubbling out of his mouth and the cold seawater entering, Then a light appeared to him, and around this light he saw the coils of the Great Serpent. He wanted to speak, but he could not. He wanted to be alert, but he felt himself falling into a peaceful sleep.

“When he awoke he found himself lying on a beach where the cliffs went far back from the shore. At the foot of the cliffs was a dark cave and all around the entrance were boar tracks. He took his sling and gathered stones from the beach. He entered the cave. No sooner was he inside when he heard a bellowing and saw the Great Boar charging toward him. He let fly with a large stone and the Great Boar fell dead at his feet.

“He carried the body of the Great Boar on his shoulders and found a way back to the village. The wise woman was waiting for him, and told him that he had been gone for a day and a night. He could not remember anything between seeing the light and the coils of the Great Serpent, and waking up on the beach, but he told the wise woman that the Great Serpent must have directed him there and then taken his memory away.

“The wise woman gathered all of the people and told them that the Great Serpent had visited her in a dream in the night and told them how they should use the body of the Great Boar. They should cook all the meat and give it to the hunter as his reward. They should use the sharp tusks of the Great Boar to cut the ears of grain from the stalks and bring them all back to the village in their baskets. When all the grain was gathered, they should place it on the hide of the boar and beat it with the brush from his back, then they should toss everything in the enormous hide and let the wind carry away all of the waste.

“They should not eat all of the grain, but save some for the next year when the earth had swallowed the snow. Then they should take the shoulder blades of the boar and fashion a tool to scratch lines in the earth. They should scatter the grain that they had saved and gently cover them with earth using the shoulder blade. When this was done they should gently walk over that earth so that the grain would not be as deep as when the Great Boar had trampled it.

“She told them that the Great Serpent had told her that the sun would be able to warm the seeds sooner and make them grow quicker, so if he sent another Great Boar, then the village would already have harvested the grain. The Great Boar would have to find other food. The Great Serpent would send them a sign when it was time to plant the grain, and that sign would be the moon taking the form of the tusk of the Great Boar as soon as the earth had swallowed the snow. They should wait for the grain to ripen, and after, when the moon was full, they should start their harvest.

“The Great Serpent looked kindly on them after that. He changed the winds and the currents of the sea and gave them more time for the grain to ripen. He set an image of the hunter in the sky in stars to protect them through the winter. He sent other Great Boars to their fields just in case they were ungrateful and did not follow his directions, but they never did.

The villagers raised their arms to share Vara’s story with the Oneness, and then the flutes and drums were played and the Danai were given their last feast before they took to their boat again. Urho told Vara how much he had enjoyed her story and she blushed. Kiri thought that she looked younger when she did this, and her usually harsh voice was softer as she thanked Urho for his praise. As Kiri enjoyed the music and the feast that came after, he thought about the two stories. They were both new to him, and there was something about them that put questions in his mind. He must talk to Aunt Vara about these questions, but not now. She was sitting with Urho. They were talking and laughing together.

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War in an age of innocence: 3

Link to Chapter 1

 The outside fire had been lit, and the people of the village were seated around. Some were waiting patiently, and others were talking. Urho got up and walked slowly and purposely around the fire: an imposing figure among all those little people. His countrymen were at the back of the circle He extended his arm toward the perimeter with his palm downward as he walked and fixed everyone with an intent stare. They fell silent. He started to speak:

“In the valley lay the Great Meadow, and the reindeer lived there. At that time they were not one with the world. They did not understand. They ate the sweet grass and grew fat. They had many young, and the young ate the sweet grass and they, too, grew fat.

“One day a wolf came out of the forest and saw all of those fat reindeer. He called to his family and soon they were all chasing the reindeer. The poor reindeer were too fat to run very fast and the wolves killed many of them. The wolves knew that if they ate too much, they would also grow fat so they called out again, this time to their friends, and soon the Great Meadow filled with more wolves.

“When the earth swallowed the sun the wolves went back into the forest, but the next day they returned again and there were even more of them. After a long time, all the fattest of the reindeer had been eaten by the wolves and the reindeer lived in fear of every new day. Some of the wolves also grew fatter and had many young, but none ever grew too fat to chase the reindeer.

“One day, a very clever reindeer had an idea. He had seen that the wolves called out and found other wolves, and he wondered that if he could call out too then perhaps there were other reindeer somewhere that would reply. He could take his family to them, away from the wolves. He could find safety. Every day he practiced calling out, and every day his voice grew louder. One day he heard another reindeer calling back to him from the other side of the forest.

“The clever reindeer gathered his family and told them that they should travel with him, through the forest, to find the other reindeer and escape from the fear of the wolves. He asked the other reindeer if any of them would come with his family to a new meadow at the other side of the forest. Some were too old to make that journey, and others were afraid of the forest. It was the Great Unknown, they told him. He replied to them saying that the unknown might indeed be dangerous, but the known held certain death. Those that were afraid said that they had lived with the danger of the wolves and it was always the others that the wolves took, not them. The wolves would not take them. They would stay and continue to eat that sweet grass just as they had always done. It would always be another that the wolves would take.

“The earth swallowed the sun and the wolves went back into the forest. When they were all gone about half of the reindeer waited, and then they, too, went into the forest toward the sound of the other reindeer, far away. The next morning the wolves came back and there were even more of them. They saw that half of the reindeer had vanished and this worried them. They chased the reindeer all day and the reindeer had little time to eat the sweet grass. They grew less fat, and as they became thinner, they became faster. The fattest of the wolves could not catch them and fewer reindeer died that day.

“The earth swallowed the sun many times, and the reindeer got even faster. Some of the wolves became too weak and they started to die from their hunger. Some of the wolves called out and their calls were answered from the other side of the forest. They went into the forest, toward the sound of the other wolf and they never returned.

“The reindeer started to grow fat on that sweet grass again, and one of them said that they should call out to their friends to come back to them. They all practiced calling, and one day one of them became loud enough to have his call answered. But it was not from the part of the forest where their friends had gone; it was from the opposite direction.

“The earth swallowed the sun many more times, and these new reindeer arrived and they all became very fat on the sweet grass in the Great Meadow. One day a wolf came out of the forest and saw all of those fat reindeer. He called to his family and soon they were all chasing the reindeer. The poor reindeer were too fat to run very fast and the wolves killed many of them. The wolves knew that if they ate too much, they would also grow fat so they called out again, this time to their friends, and soon the Great Meadow filled with more wolves.

“One day a very old and wise reindeer had an idea. He had seen how everything kept repeating: how the wolves would come and go and the reindeer herd would shrink and grow and shrink again. He knew that the Great Serpent who was one with the world decided such matters. He would seek out the Great Serpent in the very deepest part of the forest and ask him how they could avoid this endless growing and shrinking. He asked the other reindeer if any of them would come with him, but they were all too afraid.

“The earth swallowed the sun and the wolves went back into the forest. The wise reindeer waited and he, too, went into the forest toward the lair of the Great Serpent far away in the very deepest part of the forest.

“The earth swallowed the sun many more times, and the wise reindeer came to a river deep in the forest. He thought that if the Great Serpent created all things, then he would be creating this river, for the water never stopped flowing. At the source of the river he would be able to find the Great Serpent. He followed the river and the earth swallowed the sun many more times.

“At the source of the river was a great tree that towered above all the other trees in the forest. It grew higher than the clouds and its top was lost in them. At the base of the great tree was a dark cave, and from that cave came the endless river. The wise reindeer entered the cave and travelled deep into it. It got darker and darker and the wise reindeer lost all sense of time. He did not know how many times the earth had swallowed the sun outside of the deep cave. He kept the sound of the river at his side and carefully walked across the stony floor of the cave, he would stumble every once in while, but he kept walking, on and on.

“A voice came out of the darkness toward him, and he knew it was the voice of the Great Serpent. The Great Serpent told him that every time the earth swallowed the sun he could give the wise reindeer a little of that light, to better see his way through the darkness. But the wise reindeer was afraid of what he might see in that light. The darkness was comforting, and it was familiar. He wanted to tell the Great Serpent that he was afraid, but he had lost his voice in all that darkness. The Great Serpent remained silent too, and the darkness persisted.

“As the wise reindeer continued stumbling along in the darkness, he started to think about his fear. He remembered that, when he was younger, he was afraid to follow the other reindeer through the forest to escape from the wolves. He remembered that, when he became older, the other reindeer were afraid to follow him into the dark forest. But the forest was not as dark as this cave, and now it was he who was afraid: not of the darkness, but of the light that was offered to him.

“He felt ashamed of himself. He felt that he was like a young reindeer again, running to the safety and warmth of his mother when a strange sound startled him. He couldn't go backward like this. He tried to find his voice, but there was only the silence. He tried again, and this time it came softly, like the sound of a soft breeze through the forest. He tried again, and the sound grew louder. Finally, he was able to bellow into the darkness.

“There was a great flash of light, and for an instant he saw trees by the side of the river, and other reindeer moving among them. Then all became darkness once again. He wondered that if he would see this flash of light only when the earth swallowed the sun, as the Great Serpent had told him, then his journey would be very slow by that light. No sooner than he had that thought, then there was another flash of light. And then another, sooner than the last, and it continued, on and on. The time between each flash grew less and less.

“As the light became almost continuous, he noticed something very strange: he saw the trees growing leaves, and they would quickly turn brown and fall off, and then new buds would appear and the leaves would grow again. He started to see the trees grow bigger, and then die. He saw new trees starting to grow, and watched as they completed their path through life. The reindeer that he first saw moved faster and faster growing older, dying, becoming born. On and on. Faster and faster, until they were just a blur.

“He looked across the river, and in a clearing in the fast ever-changing forest he saw the almost motionless figure of the Great Serpent, his great coils did not move, only his head swayed gently to the rhythm of the changing world. The wise reindeer grew very tired, and he lay down and fell into a deep sleep.

“When he awoke, he was back in the Great Meadow. He saw that he had been sleeping below a gigantic tree. There was a cave entrance at the foot of the tree and a stream of sweet water gushed from within. One of the other reindeers approached him and the wise reindeer asked how long he had been gone. The other reindeer told him that he had been sleeping for just a little while. The wise reindeer asked where the tree, the cave, and the stream had come from. The other reindeer seemed puzzled, and said that they had always been there.

“The earth swallowed the sun, and the next day two new creatures arrived in the Great Meadow. They walked on two legs and were called Man and Woman. They carried a bag of seeds with them. They took some of the branches of the gigantic tree and fashioned a plough. They harnessed two of the reindeer to the plough and had them dig furrows for the seeds.

“When all their plants grew high, they called out, and more of them arrived. They gave some of their plants to the reindeer for their work and they built fires. The wolves were scared of the fires and they were scared of the Men and Women who protected the reindeer. They grew very hungry, and only a few remained.

“The earth swallowed the sun many more times, and mice arrived in the Great Meadow to feed off the plants that the Men and Women grew. The mice were small and fast, and the Men and Women could not catch them. The wolves could hear the mice, and they could smell them and they soon learned how to catch them. There were not enough mice for the wolves to share with other wolves, so when they called in the night, it was only to each other, and no new wolves arrived.

“The earth swallowed the sun many more times, and the wise reindeer grew very old. The Men and Women treated him with respect, and did not make him pull their ploughs. They fed him with their plants, and the sweet water and grass of the Great Meadow. He was happy. One day, he lay beneath the gigantic tree and went to sleep for the last time." 

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War in an age of innocence: 2

Link to Chapter 1

 When Kiri woke the next morning he was in his bed. He remembered that he had fallen asleep listening to Samo’s music. Today there would be stories. He got up, dressed, and went to the kitchen. No one else had woken yet so he ate a piece of bread and drank some water sweetened with honey. After he finished his breakfast, he went outside and was pleased to see that there was no rain. It often rained early in the morning on their part of the coast, although it would clear later, when the sun got higher. One of the sheepdogs greeted him and he played with it for a while: he ran off in one direction, and then another. Each time the dog would chase him, sometimes nipping at his heels, sometimes rushing to get in front of him where it would stand with its legs stretched wide, ready to spring at an instant if need be. If he stayed still for a while, the dog would lie down and watch, intently, for any sign that Kiri was thinking of moving again. Kiri ran off again, this time, he kept changing directions as fast as he could. The dog barked at him excitedly. Mara appeared at their doorway.

“Kiri! Keep that dog quiet. You’ll have them all barking next, and everyone is still asleep. The tide is out. Go down to the sandy beach and dig me some clams”.

She handed him a basket and a small bone spade and he set off along the path between the fields to the other side of the headland. The path went through the bog at the bottom of the gully just past the last field. Kiri spent a little time jumping on the sticks that had been laid along the path, and watching the mud bubble up from between them. He didn’t want to waste too much time, and he ran the rest of the way to the beach. Today would be a big day for him. Normally, he would collect some lugworms, along with the clams, but he knew there would be no time for fishing today. After everyone visited the circle of stones, the stories would start. Then there would be more music, dancing, and everyone would see the Danai off on their journey home, or to other villages down the coast. There were a lot of clams that morning and it didn’t take too long for him to fill the basket.

When he returned home everyone was about, preparing for the days’ festivities. Mara was making honey cakes in the kitchen and Boro was stringing amber beads for her necklace. He had obtained some beads already made and some small pieces of amber for making more later. It was a time-consuming task to make the beads and there would always be some breakage, especially when the hole was bored. He took pride in his skills, for he never wasted too much of the precious material. He had enough amber for several more necklaces, and he would take these, with the green stone axes to the southerners next month.

There was a scuffling, and a grumbling from the passageway to the guest rooms, and one of the Danai emerged at the opening and stretched when he entered the kitchen.

“Good morning everyone”

“Good morning, Urho” Mara said, “You remember Kiri, don’t you.” Kiri smiled at their guest.

“Indeed I do. My, you have grown since I was last here. One day you will be as tall as me!”

The Danai never missed an opportunity to tease Kiri’s people about their short stature and this was even funnier coming from Urho, as he was very tall, even for a Danai. He had long, shaggy, blonde hair and a full beard and moustache to match. He was wide, as well as tall, and had a great, booming voice that almost echoed off the stone walls of the kitchen. He was one of the storytellers, and Kiri’s favourite. Vara had been sitting on the bench by the wall combing her hair. She liked to look her best when visitors came, or when they all went to the circle of stones. She put the comb down on the small table near the bench, and looked in the stone oven to see if Mara’s last batch of honey cakes were ready. Then she stared at Kiri’s feet.

“Would you look at yourself!” she exclaimed, “Your feet, they are covered in sand and mud. You had better go outside and wash them. We will be leaving soon, and you can’t go looking like something that just crawled out of the bog.”

Kiri did as he was told, and by the time he was finished, the household was starting to leave. Samo was the first to leave, helped along by Kata, Mara’s mother. He moved slowly because of his great age and needed a stick to walk at all. Looking at him, you would never believe that he could produce such lively music. Boro and Mara came next, followed by Vara and Urho. Kiri joined them. They soon passed Samo and Kata, slowing down to exchange pleasantries as they did so. It didn't matter who arrived first or last at the circle of stones. The path to the circle was lined with some smaller upright stones. Families were dotted along the path, in front, and behind them. A large group was already waiting at the last stone, and some had started back again. The ritual had been going on for as long as anyone could remember. Samo had told everyone that his grandfather had helped build the circle, but most did not believe him.

Only one person could stand in the circle at a time, and the rest would wait patiently for their turn. No one took longer than the time it takes to have a couple of thoughts. There were exceptions to the custom of one at a time: babies that had to be carried by their mothers, or those who needed help. There was also the case of twins. Twins were very rare, there was only one set living in their village at that time. Vara had explained things to Kiri last year:

“When we all started to leave the Oneness, we knew that we would become lonely, so we did not divide singly at first, but in pairs. That way we could share our thoughts with another. Before that was only one thought. As we became busy with the universe and the bodies that we created we began to drift apart from our pair. We learned how to communicate with others and sometimes shared interests with them as well. We all became different, but we were always connected with our pair deep in our hearts. As the wonder of everything started to fade, the loneliness returned. We could be with three times thirty people, and yet still feel that loneliness. Those of us who were the oldest souls felt the loneliness more keenly. We would look for our pair.”

“So are twins those pairs”

“Yes, we are certain of that. That is why they enter the circle together”

“But what if you find your pair, can you then go into the circle together”

“Only if you know that you will be together forever, even past death. Twins are at that state because they are even born together”

“But how do you know you will be together forever if you are not twins?”

“The Oneness is great, and the pairs, when they first reunite, share a glimpse of that greatness. Together they build something great for everyone. Everyone knows when such a thing happens. It was a pair that first made fire. One with the other produces something greater than either could produce alone. We all know this deep down. We all long for it. This is why we left the Oneness. The Oneness could not create.”

“Are my parents a pair”

Vara laughed, “I am sure of that. Perhaps one day it will be revealed that the greatness they created is you. Then they will enter the circle together.”

Kiri decided that he should do something very great one day. He was thinking about that conversation as they drew closer to the circle of stones. He suddenly became aware of the fact that he didn’t understand what the circle was for. He had been going there his whole life, and all his parents had told him was that when he entered the circle he was to be very quiet, stand there for a few minutes, and then leave. He knew that they did this on the shortest day of the year; on the longest day of the year; on other days that he didn’t understand, and whenever visitors came. He walked alongside of Vara, and took her by the hand.

“Aunt Vara, what does the circle mean?”

“The circle is nearest the centre of the Universe, the place we all started from.”

“So we are really lucky to live here. I bet that the Danai wish they could live here too!”

“The Danai have their own circles, and they are nearest the centre of the Universe as well”

“How can we all live nearest the centre of the Universe?”

“You are still too young to understand that. When you get a bit older I will explain it to you, or your parents will. All I can say now is that there is a quietness in the centre of that circle. It is a quietness that is felt by your mind, not ‘not heard’ by your ears. The clever ones, a long time ago, knew how to find such places. A few can still do it, but it is a talent that is getting rarer. I’m not sure why. It bothers me and I often worry about it. I am afraid that a day will come when no one will be able to find that quietness for the others. I don’t know what we will do then.”

“How can you ‘not hear’ something with your ears? Hearing things is what ears are for. I can’t hear things with my feet”. He lay on the ground, and pointed the soles of his feet toward Vara. “You’ll have to speak up Aunt Vara, my feet can’t hear you!”

Boro and Mara stopped in their tracks and started to laugh.

“What have you been telling the boy now, Sister” Boro said.

“Aunt Vara’s being silly” Kiri replied.

“I suppose I am,” said Vara, and she began to laugh too, but there was a sadness in her eyes that Kiri noticed. He hoped he had not hurt her feelings.

It was Kiri’s turn to stand alone in the circle. He tried to feel the quietness with his mind, and then he tried to not hear it with his ears, but it was all too confusing for him, so he just stood there quietly for a few minutes, and then he left, just as he was told. He thought some more about it on the way back. He decided that he did not like not hearing with his ears, or, at least, he thought he might not like it if he knew how to do it. He wondered if feeling the quietness with his mind was like not thinking. He tried not thinking, but found that he thought about not thinking instead. He gave up. He didn’t want to not hear. He wanted to hear. He wanted to hear Urho tell one of his stories in that big, booming voice.

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War in an age of innocence: 1

[This serial preview of my first novel will run for ten episodes (two weeks). Each episode will consist of a complete chapter of about 2,000 words. There are 43 chapters in the complete book. The novel will be available for purchase as an ebook, hopefully before the serial ends or shortly thereafter. I am planning to charge $3.99 for it. More details to come. 

It is a "coming of age" fantasy set in the Neolithic and written along Jungian mythological lines. I wrote it when I needed a break from researching the Gundestrup cauldron a few years ago, and had become annoyed by the popularity of one novel that was just a "new age" pastiche of mythological themes without real connection. I am doing a little final editing on it and I hope you like the story.

For the next two weeks I will be devoting more time to the research for a new series on the personality of T. E. Lawrence which will start with the first publication of a document by one of his friends about the then, T.E. Shaw's service in the Royal Air Force in India.]

The sea was their father. Kiri tired easily with the games of the other boys and on this clear morning he sat alone on a clump of coarse grass at the top of the stony beach and gazed at the waves. The waves crashed on the pebbles and then hissed as the sea pulled the water back. He matched his breathing to them and mimicked the sound: exhaling hard when the wave hit the beach, and then inhaling slowly as the water withdrew. Further down the beach a woman with three children were gathering mussels. The woman was working intently, the children mostly chasing each other. They might have been laughing, but the sound of the sea was all that Kiri heard. In the distance he saw a sail, and he watched carefully as the boat drew nearer, trying to see what sort of boat it was. Everyone was happy when a boat arrived. Those who were lucky enough to see it first made sure that they quickly gathered what things they could spare and then hurried to the beach, eager to see what the visitors had brought to trade, and hopefully to get the first choice of their cargo.

Some of the boats had distinctive sails and everyone would soon learn what it was that the visitors wanted, and what they had brought in exchange. It was always exciting when the sail was strange. No one knew what those visitors were looking for, nor what they had with them. It was a game. Sometimes a family would eagerly rush down with a basket full of something only to find that the visitors had brought the same sort of thing. Everyone would laugh. Mostly, though, the visitors were not strangers and as soon as you saw their sail, you would know what was wanted, and what you might get for it. There was always a surprise for the children, though. Among the usual cargo there would be a few strange and wonderful items from some other edge of that vast sea. Food and drink was always brought to the visitors and there would be the music of flute and drum, dancing, and, if you could understand each other’s words, there were stories. Kiri loved the stories best.

The land was their mother. Kiri jumped up from his clump of grass and started running toward home. The long, coarse grass near the sea gave way to shorter, soft green grass made shorter still by the endless grazing of the sheep. Wattle fences kept the sheep away from the fields of grain and vegetables. There were few trees where they lived and the wind from the sea constantly made waves that ran across the fields. All that could be seen of the houses were the thatched roofs and the smoke rising from them. In the distance were the dark forest-covered hills where wolves and the wild boar dwelt. Few would go past the edge of these hills where they could find wood, or hunt for deer. The forest was impenetrable, dangerous and mysterious. Some who ventured too far never returned. The houses were dug into the ground for warmth and shelter from the ever-present wind. The stone slab walls and floors kept the damp out and even most of the furniture was made of that stone. There were stone tables and benches, and stone cupboards and shelves lined the walls. Even the beds were of stone. Comfort was provided by sheepskin covered cushions, wool blankets and rugs. Peat fires gave heat and the rooms glowed with the light from tallow candles. Several families shared the large and often rambling houses. They all shared one large kitchen where all the food was prepared and the families would socialize around the central fire every evening. One by one, or in pairs, they would retreat at the close of the day to their cozy small bedrooms off the kitchen, or down dark stone hallways.

Kiri was careful to stop running before he got too close to home and he slowed to a fast walk instead. He did not want to attract attention from the other families and any person, or creature, that ran into the village would soon be joined by barking sheepdogs that loved to chase anything that moved faster than a grazing sheep. He was pleased to see that it was only his mother, father and his Aunt Vara who occupied the kitchen that morning. It was customary to announce the news to whoever was present. Mara stopped stirring the stew, wiped her brow and looked up at her son.

“I’m glad you’re home Kiri, I need you to go outside and get some more peat for the fire.”

“A Danai boat is coming!”

“Well that’s a bit of good news!” Kiri’s father exclaimed. “They usually have a good supply of that hard green stone. It’s hard to work, but an axe of that stuff is never going to break. Most don’t have the right sort of grit to polish it properly and the effort I will have to put into making a few axes should get us some good fruit from the southerners next month”.

“Vara and I have dried that venison you got. They like that. We will be able to gets lots of the stone for you Boro, and then we will divide up the fruit you get for it. Two shares for us for your effort. Is that alright Vara?”

“Sounds fine to me”

“Oh, and Boro, I would like some of that amber they usually bring – for a necklace”

“You’re beautiful enough without it. They always want too much for that stuff,” Boro said gruffly.

Kiri sat down, wrapped his arms around his knees, and smiling, waited for the show. He knew what was coming next.

“Come on, Boro, don’t be mean”. She walked over to him and rested her hand gently on his chest. “It will make me happy”. Mara was the most beautiful woman in their village and it was said that she could charm the birds out of the sky.

“ Well, perhaps a small amount, you did a lot of work drying that venison”

Kiri giggled and Boro got red in the face.

“Don’t laugh Kiri. It will happen to you soon enough!”

Vara laughed too. It always pleased her to see her usually stern brother reduced to such an emotional puddle by the beautiful Mara. She liked Mara a lot. Vara was much older, even than Boro. She was not particularly attractive and shared something of her brother’s gruffness, but she was a kind person at heart and Mara treated her with much respect, often seeking the wisdom of her years. It seemed to Vara that Mara thought of herself as beautiful only to her husband and this was the natural way of things. Vara had never married. She knew much of nature. She knew the times for things; she understood the journeys of the constellations. She was one with the world.

By the time they had gathered everything together and made it down to the boat a few others were already there and had started trading with the Danai. They had the amber, and the green stone, but no one had taken any of either. Boro knew that he was the only one that could properly work that stone, and Mara knew that few of the women would be able to afford much of the amber. It was only Boro’s idea of trading the axes he would make with the southerners that enabled them to afford such costly items. None of the other villagers minded this. Boro had worked hard on his skill, and the fruit that he would bring to the village would benefit all. Other people had their own skills and needed other supplies. Each skill would bring the greatest rewards to those that had it, but there was always enough for everyone else. All around the great sea, other villages had access to different things, and their populations had developed their own skills.

The trading continued at a leisurely pace until evening. Although Boro’s attention was fixed mainly on the green stone and the amber, the wood that the Danai had brought excited most of the villagers. There were long poles of the right size for masts for their boats. It was a kind of wood that could not be found there: strong enough to withstand even the toughest winds. The Danai were pleased with the dried venison. It was tastier than their own venison because the deer fed on different plants and this changed the taste of the meat. Also, Vara had her own special seasonings that made the meat even more delicious. The last grain harvest had been good, and the Danai had heard of this. Their own supply was getting low, as their own harvest was very small that last year.

The Danai had always fascinated Kiri. They looked very different from his own people: the Danai were tall and fair-haired, his people were much shorter with jet-black hair, and both peoples had very pale skin and mostly blue eyes. Their language was about the same, but the Danai had a strange accent and some of the sounds in their words were different. He laughed when the Danai visited their homes; they often had to crawl from room to room, as the ceilings were far too low for them. Everyone had to stoop a bit to get from room to room, that was just the way they built their passages. Vara had told him a story about why this was, but he didn't remember the details. He thought it had something to do with being born, but he wasn't sure. The Danai had told him that they lived in huge houses all made of wood, and all above the ground and that they had floors above other floors. He couldn’t imagine such a thing and wondered if he would ever travel to their part of the great sea. They told him that it was a long way off and that they even sailed at night.

As the earth swallowed the sun and the first bright stars started, shyly, to appear in the opposite direction, the outside fires were lit and the village began to entertain their visitors. Samo was Mara’s grandfather and was the oldest man in their village. He had played the flute since he was a child, and as he started to play with some of the other flautists; one by one they stopped and just listened to him. The drummers also stopped, partly in awe, and partly because they could not understand the variable rhythms that Samo brought to the music. Kiri was nestled up next to his aunt; his parents were nowhere to be seen. The music of Samo’s flute swelled and then shrank in a steady rhythm, while other faster and more complex rhythms coloured it. Kiri thought of the waves of the dark sea with the white birds wheeling over them. He began breathing to the slower rhythm. Vara smiled at him.

“Yes, little one, you are beginning to understand”

Across the crackling fire from them, one of the Danai sailors wiped a tear from his eye. The music rose and fell. The sea came in and went out again. Kiri’s breathing became lighter as he drifted off to sleep.

© John Hooker 2016

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A prolegomenon to Jungian archaeology: conclusion

Academic archaeology's condescending attitude to the public places the latter in the role of an audience, but its inability to properly communicate any personal experience of archaeology, believing that objectivity is not only paramount but exclusive, places more distance between it and its audience. Accordingly, what in nature would result in extinction because of an organisms inability to adapt to changing conditions is averted by other groups using archaeology to their own, and very different ends. We can find no end of analogies to this situation in the natural world: the "ranching" of aphids by ants for their honeydew not only feeds the ants but protects the aphids. Archaeology crowd-based funding and data sourcing is one hive method that is advantageous to archaeology.

But archaeology also takes on the role of the aphid for other groups such as those with political motives who use nationalism in order to obtain a subservient population and to provide troops whenever needed; and through political/economic shenanigans such  with the structure of the US memoranda of understanding on "heritage" issues whereby protection is granted through the offering of secret "perks" to the applying country. These perks are kept secret because they often consist of deals that would not be supported by the majority of the public were they to know all of the details. An illusion of public support is created through panels and public input, but not only are any recommendations ignored by the government whenever is to their advantage, but as both sides of any deal are not revealed, the public has no opportunity to make an informed choice. Governmental transparency runs as a parallel PR motive to provide a defence against any criticisms in the same way that large corporations use the promotion of ethics or public support to act as a cover for the opposite behaviour. The use of various minority groups are especially sought out as these never have enough power to overcome any injustices while at the same time provide good PR for the government that uses them to reach its own ends that have nothing at all to do with the advertised motives.

Universities also use archaeology as a way of generating income, often based on current trends in public indoctrination, such as with creating courses on art crime where, if such courses were genuine, would probably require previous accreditations in international law, criminology and at least a strong working familiarity with the international art market. Such courses act a bit like a Ponzi scheme where the subterfuge is only realized when the graduates find it impossible to get jobs and the word gets out.
Because academia cannot support itself very well within a closed system, and the number of people in its classes far outweigh any foreseeable employment, associate professorships are created along with greatly reduced salaries and hours so that the  surplus will eventually wander off to become taxi-drivers or office workers and thus gain a living income. As this is a voluntary reaction, no responsibility need be assumed

Some of the above are scavenger activities as impending extinction from the lack of adaptability creates the weakened food source for the scavenger, and when one food source vanishes they will adapt by finding another.

Prior to the last decades of the nineteenth century, archaeology was predominately an amateur occupation taken up by the public at various levels of society. The most innovative applications came from people who had sources of income from business or family wealth. John Evans, for example, had a thriving paper business and he was greatly influenced by Darwin  (who was well-off) and the methods of geology. He came about his interest, originally through being a coin collector and numismatic methods, too, were incorporated into his vision of archaeology. Archaeology did not need to provide a source of income, and there was enough leisure time available to create the innovation fired by genuine personal interest.

The academic/nationalist ghettoizing of archaeology also created a new environment with its own evolutionary adaptations which became more and more idiosyncratic as it gradually parted with real public involvement in the discovery of the past: the public wanted to discover for themselves and not be taught. These idiosyncrasies evolved into unreadable academic papers mostly now seen in academic postmodern writing; extremely high prices for archaeological literature which would be needed by students but not attractive to the public; and the correspondingly high prices charged for necessary photographic data publication rights which are often waived for higher-status members of the academy.  The ability to discover for oneself is essential for evolutionary adaptation and the real result is an increase in intelligence coupled with the evolutionary reward of pleasure. The earlier decades of the nineteenth century had been a Renaissance of discovery in all areas of study and endeavour. Ghettozing could only survive if the independence that preceded it was suppressed.

The reasons for the decline in the rate of discovery and innovation, and some suggestions for ways to lessen this within academia are discussed in Aaron Lynch, in his last version of Units, events, and dynamics in the evolutionary epidemiology of ideas, 2001.Another direction to counter the lack of evolutionary adaptability is taken by transdisciplinarity.

Jungian archaeology would encompass all that I have introduced in this series and perhaps more. It would expand archaeology from just what is studied, to the psychology behind methods; the psychology of archaeologists and how the subject can be widened to provide real and useful public involvement beyond education and volunteerism. Various series about aspects of this subject could appear on this blog in the future.

On Monday, I will start with a serial presentation of my forthcoming ebook novel War in an Age of Innocence which is a Jungian/mythological coming of age story set at the transition of the Neolithic and Bronze Age. The time I will save with this serial presentation will allow me to focus on the last part of the research for a series about T. E. Lawrence staring with the publication, here, of a newly discovered document written by one of his friends. Have an adaptable weekend!


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A prolegomenon to Jungian archaeology: part six

I can think of no better lead graphic for this episode than Goya's "The sleep of reason produces monsters" from his Los Caprichos series.

Jung developed a technique he called "Active Imagination" and one of the methods that he used on himself and on some of his patients was the drawing of a mandala which often encompassed the quarternity. As this was also an archetypal representation of the psyche that was not derived from Indian mysticism, rather that Indian religion, being inward-looking, accessed it, it served as stimulation of the contents of the unconscious.  Jung also used dream imagery as that, too, brings images from the most accessible parts of the unconscious. The rhythms of the shaman's drum and the rhythms in composing poetry can also generate such imagery to mention just a couple of many examples.

If we apply this to archaeology we might think that, as the collective unconscious of today contains the same things it did in the distant past, then by just looking at some creative and symbolic object from the archaeological past, we might be able to reconstruct something of the meaning understood by its creator. Thus we might start thinking about some method of archaeological psychometry. Unfortunately, this is a double-edged-sword. We would not know if our resulting interpretation was right, or that a design that had some analytical basis to its creator coincidentally mimicked and stimulated something in our own unconscious resulting in the interpretation of the object being, in reality, the interpretation of our own unconscious content. As Freud said: "Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar". Nevertheless, the idea has captured imagintion in being applied to dream imagery.

You might have heard about August Kekulé's discovery of the structure of the benzene ring through the dream imagery of the Ouroboros, but look at the main article more carefully, as the chemistry section provides no interpretation. The key is the alchemical/magic term sigil "...in modern usage, especially in the context of chaos magic, it refers to a symbolic representation of the magician's desired outcome." You might also want to read the article about chaos magic as well, especially for its postmodern context as I will be referring to that later. In the case of Kekulé, he plays the role of the magician. His unconscious was delivering various patterns to him in his dream state and these coalesced into the collective unconscious symbol of the Ouroboros. That the benzene ring took that form is akin to, but not exactly, synchronicity which was the collaborative fruit of research by Jung and Pauli. While we can view the benzene ring as reality, it is also a symbolic representation of reality. In fact, some quantum physicists and transdisciplinarity in general views reality, itself, as illusory, at least in its exceptions to classical logic.

I have experienced the same thing myself. During my research into the Celtic boar symbol, I had a dream in which I had entered a hut. In the centre of the hut was an old and very hideous witch stirring a cauldron over a fire. She looked like something from Macbeth, but she was (I much later realized) the Crone archetype (See, also, Reimagining the Self: The Sage, the Wise Old One, and the Elder). The crone than looked up at me in disgust and transformed into a wild boar with its brush raised just as it is in the Celtic boar symbol. The crone and the boar represented the end of part of a cycle. Being a cycle, it would of course repeat; the cauldron was also the situla and the grail, symbols of regeneration and resurrection. The meaning of the boar became realized, and that meaning was later backed up by more evidence. For another personal example see my three-part series "My house" (also using the Goya print), about a dream generated by my spending three months living at the Dolese Mansion in Oklahoma City. Just click on the "Newer Post" link at the bottom of each blog to follow it.

Now if you think that all of the above was strange then you are in for a severe shock with what comes next. The study-subject of Lore consists, in part, of finding previous used elements and their origins in the tales. You might look it as an archaeology of legends, digging through ever deeper strata.  Postmodernism not only looks at the topic of study but its "re-presentation" as text. In an interdisciplinary manner I have (briefly) exposed for you one of the strata in Alexandra Warwick, The Dreams of Archaeology. Within this paper you will see a veritable smörgåsbord of current archaeological memes. How many can you spot?

There are a few chestnuts, like the references to Marx and antiquarianism, and the extremely warped view of the nineteenth century and Victorianism where modern archaeology was actually created through its synthesis with geology by John Evans, and his application of seriation (variously misattributed to both Flinders Petrie and Pitt Rivers by different authors), but I must especially point out the references to colonialism: when I returned to England after a more than thirty year absence television seemed full of moralizing indoctrination about the evils of colonialism. What surprised me the most about all of this was that the rhetoric style was identical to what I had been fed as boy at school in praise of such people as Cecil Rhodes (my school was on the grounds of his old house and its remaining pillars served as the design for the school badge where every pillar represented a human virtue (none of which, it later appeared, had been expressed by Rhodes). I finally understood George Orwell, but I also realized that this fervour was nothing more than a collective consciousness example of Jungian Enantiodromia. It was a massive exhibition of a neurosis, and one of the most surreal experiences of my life.  So have fun with that paper and I will be back tomorrow.


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