As usual I have written another weird post and not posted it, but then I thought sod it I'm just going to post it. It's about Christmas trees...got home last night and ours has gone already! (what about tradition and the 12th night! oh well).
Well I've been in bed with Flu the last few days! but it has been good to rest and gather some strength for the coming new year. In case you didn't notice it's Christmas!! I have always been a big fan of Christmas, I think it's a lovely thing. How cool is it that we all bring trees into our houses!?
I am not a Neo Paganist...
But I do think it's natural in the depths of winter that people use evergreen trees, mistletoe and wreaths as symbols of eternal life. Or perhaps more simply life enduring and the hope of new growth in Spring. For obvious reasons Tree worship used to be common and as you can see by the image above it has definitely survived our conversion to Christianity!
For many the word worship is aligned with the Abrahamic gods, but for me practicing worship of a patriarchal figure just felt like practicing doing as I'm told. Tree Worship is not difficult as they mean so much to me, the word worship has been etymologised as "worthiness or worth-ship" so it means: to give worth to something, what do you worship? It doesn't need to be other worldly, and of course this world is much more wondrous than those written down. I definitely see the spoons I carve as a form of Tree worship.
It is very difficult for a child growing up in central London to gain a wider perspective of their place in the natural world, you cannot even see stars in the sky, let alone have an understanding of how an individual can exist outside the grand institutions that consume our land, our efforts, and our minds. That is not to say I do not value the diverse cultural endeavours we all work on. I put much value on them, but not many people value the Wood Cultures that to me are our species most beautiful interaction with the planet.
Instead of swinging a real Axe in the intended way we teach our children about them on machines. These machines mean that in London every 14 yr old has had the opportunity to experience hacking people to death with a hatchet, if you think this is ok or that it isn't your child you are very much mistaken. Maybe the powers that be think this is the best way to train drone pilots, and of course it is all just a game. Anyway conspiracy theories are a waste of my energy.
That said I do believe the powers that be have a vested interest in our fear of individuals and maintaining that the only narrative of progress is through increased complexity and passing our power upwards.
One of the beautiful things about an ancient Oak tree is the biodiversity that it supports, as such perhaps London could be seen as one of the greatest and diverse institutions on the planet. But what concerns me is that as individuals we have given up the ability to control them. Or perhaps we have forgotten or been persuaded that we can't. Sometimes a tree needs to come down when it has outgrown it's use, that it may give others the chance to thrive that will benefit all of us.
Anyway we all have stories to tell, why should mine be any more useful than those told to you by the Church or Tescos. How can I sit here and ask you to love yourselves more than a corporation that promises eternal life or an organisation that provided your Christmas feast.
I've lived in london for a while now, admittedly I often think about running away. The streets of London are paved with golden fried chicken shops, coffee shops, bet shops and Tesco. There is a constant barrage of corporations trying to implant ideas in your head. It's easy to feel clostrophobic, like in a dense forest there is that desire to let light in through the canopy, there are giant structures I wish I could drag down.
If you feel like me then maybe it's time to sharpen your Axe, don't worry that your neighbour will chop off your head like in the video games you play. You need to stop believing their lies, it's time to let some light through the canopy...chop chop chop.
