Drink Recipe: Hungarian Zen Master

Drink recipe: Hungarian Zen Master

1/2 oz Spiced Rum, 1 oz Jagermeister, over ice.  Fill with root beer.  Om.

An interesting question.  I feel obliged to point out that the term "narcicissm", even when not used in its clinical/technical sense, often carries with it an implication of excess or unhealthiness.  In that context, I wouldn't conflate eclectic paganism and neo-paganism with narcissism per se.  But if we were to operate under an assumption that narcissism is simply an orientation towards self, and that healthy narcissism is a possibility as well as unhealthy narcissism, then I suppose I could see equating eclectic paganism and narcissism.  Because in my experience, eclectic paganism is a path wherein the self is often the sole fixed point around which a wide range of archetypes, mythologies, and cultural contexts whirl and revolve, shifting and changing and flaring in then winking out.

I would agree to a certain extent that this is also true of many, or possibly most forms of religious pursuit -- the orientation on self overwhelms all else, and the desire to follow the Divine morphs into a compulsion to trail along one of the forms of self, which takes its place behind the seeming of the divine.  However, I would hold that many forms of religious pursuit in their ideal states are ultimately selfless, for good or ill, however rare it might be to find someone able to hold to that stripe of religious life.  Buddhism is an easy example, Karma Yoga is another.  Christianity is in its abstraction a paragon of this, though as with everything else, the abstraction is very different than the reality.

So the question was asked about ecclectic paganism being akin to narcissism. I have to say yes….. In fact if one is being honest with one’s self, ALL religious pursuits no matter the path or the deities honored, is narcissistic. Its all about fulfilling the spiritual self. Even if one says that…

VII. TO DIONYSUS

I will tell of Dionysus, the son of glorious Semele, how he appeared on a jutting headland by the shore of the fruitless sea, seeming like a stripling in the first flush of manhood: his rich, dark hair was waving about him, and on his strong shoulders he wore a purple robe. Presently there came swiftly over the sparkling sea Tyrsenian pirates on a well-decked ship — a miserable doom led them on. When they saw him they made signs to one another and sprang out quickly, and seizing him straightway, put him on board their ship exultingly; for they thought him the son of heaven-nurtured kings. They sought to bind him with rude bonds, but the bonds would not hold him, and the withes fell far away from his hands and feet: and he sat with a smile in his dark eyes. Then the helmsman understood all and cried out at once to his fellows and said: `Madmen! What god is this whom you have taken and bind, strong that he is? Not even the well-built ship can carry him. Surely this is either Zeus or Apollo who has the silver bow, or Poseidon, for he looks not like mortal men but like the gods who dwell on Olympus. Come, then, let us set him free upon the dark shore at once: do not lay hands on him, lest he grow angry and stir up dangerous winds and heavy squalls.’ So said he: but the master chid him with taunting words: `Madman, mark the wind and help hoist sail on the ship: catch all the sheets. As for this fellow we men will see to him: I reckon he is bound for Egypt or for Cyprus or to the Hyperboreans or further still. But in the end he will speak out and tell us his friends and all his wealth and his brothers, now that providence has thrown him in our way.’ When he had said this, he had mast and sail hoisted on the ship, and the wind filled the sail and the crew hauled taut the sheets on either side. But soon strange things were seen among them. First of all sweet, fragrant wine ran streaming throughout all the black ship and a heavenly smell arose, so that all the seamen were seized with amazement when they saw it. And all at once a vine spread out both ways along the top of the sail with many clusters hanging down from it, and a dark ivy-plant twined about the mast, blossoming with flowers, and with rich berries growing on it; and all the thole-pins were covered with garlands. When the pirates saw all this, then at last they bade the helmsman to put the ship to land. But the god changed into a dreadful lion there on the ship, in the bows, and roared loudly: amidships also he showed his wonders and created a shaggy bear which stood up ravening, while on the forepeak was the lion glaring fiercely with scowling brows. And so the sailors fled into the stern and crowded bemused about the right-minded helmsman, until suddenly the lion sprang upon the master and seized him; and when the sailors saw it they leapt out overboard one and all into the bright sea, escaping from a miserable fate, and were changed into dolphins. But on the helmsman Dionysus had mercy and held him back and made him altogether happy, saying to him: `Take courage, good…; you have found favour with my heart. I am loud-crying Dionysus whom Cadmus’ daughter Semele bare of union with Zeus.’ Hail, child of fair-faced Semele! He who forgets you can in no wise order sweet song.

daniellelipski

Not sure who wrote this, but it's... (looking for a word) ...wonderful.

Gone are the raucous revelers. Silent are the lyres, the drums, the voices.

No more do the fevered feet trample upon the forgotten cup, the discarded clothes, the half-eaten fruit.

They have all ran shrieking without into the cloying darkness, the verdant wilds, the twisting labyrinth.

All But One.