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Growing up in Canada from the 70's to the 90's meant I was privileged to hear some really good Canadian pop and rock music of which the rest of the world remains largely oblivious. A good example? Fly at Night by Chilliwack, which has the hallmarks of a "classic rock" song. Enjoy.
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 A couple of years ago, I noted the uncanny way in which the cords, hoses, ropes, and wires we use in the garden and around the house inevitably tangle, twist, catch, and snag, often in the most inconceivable, supernatural, physics-defying manner:
Having spent the last few months working in the garden and working around the house using all sorts of ropes, strings, extension cords, and hoses, I can confirm that the "rope/cord/wire inevitably gets caught on object" is a very real phenomenon that is not restricted to trite scenes in movies. For example, if I am working with an extension cord, I can count on that cord wrapping itself around a tree or piece of furniture. If I am working with a garden hose, that hose will ultimately get caught up on any and all nearby objects rather than effortlessly moving across the lawn. And so on. That post prompted some insightful comments, first from JM Smith: Nowadays I spend more time on yard work, and you are right that extension cords and hoses catch on everything. If you actually added these things up, you would have statistical proof that we live in a fallen world. There is more "bad luck" than "good luck" in it. Bruce Charlton shared the following: This business of ropes and hoses is surely entropic/ demonic - almost never ordered and creative. A string or rope will never weave itself into anything useful - but only into a mass of evil toils. Every time I stretch-out the garden hose, it makes a loop leading to a tight kink which shuts-off the water. The kink cannot be shaken free, but I need to go back and manually untangle it. ...It takes one of God's children to undo the spontaneous influences of the evil ruler of this world. And finally, commenter Epimetheus, who noted: Extension cords are under Satan's dominion. After another arduous summer of garden work and home renovations, I can confidently declare that cords, ropes, wires, and hoses are under Satan’s dominion, are proof of a fallen world, and are certainly entropic/demonic. In fact, I believe cords, ropes, wires, and hoses are the specialty of a small but spitefully mischievous group of evil spirits I now refer to as Snag Demons. Verifying their existence is incredibly easy. Just take out a tool or appliance with a cord, or attach an extension cord to something, or take out your garden hose and see how long you can use those things without the cord or hose twisting, tangling, catching, or snagging. Go ahead. Give it a shot. The Snag Demons eagerly await you. Christians focus far too much on making a living when they should instead be living a making.
Returning to tradition will not solve the dissolution of tradition because it is blind to the primary cause of the dissolution, specifically, the evolution of consciousness.
Traditionalists believe man who lived a thousand years ago is essentially the same as contemporary man. The only thing that has changed is the external world, which traditionalists generally regard as the true ruler of men. Change the external world into its old form, and tradition will return. Or, more precisely, tradition will have the chance to reimpose itself on man, i.e., the masses will fall into place and adhere to whatever the external world dictates. The ultimate goals of traditionalists tend to be external in orientation because they view the internal as constant. Hence, spirit is primarily an affair of externals for most traditionalists. Any expected change can only occur there. Everything else amounts to the soap bubble nonsense of hyper-individualism and uber-subjectivity. Traditionalists argue that an external, uniform, and universal law exists. Man’s only spiritual duty is to submit to it. However, man has already un-spiritually submitted to another external, uniform, universal law. He has already given up his freedom. Thus, he has nothing left to give tradition. He feels no need to submit to other externals because he is already in submission. What he truly needs is discovery—the realization that he is a free and creative spirit. But that is an entirely internal (spiritual) matter. Communion means participation in something common or at least open to all. It also signifies union—fellowship, mutual participation—in religious worship, doctrine, or discipline.
Simply put, communion is common union; with-oneness; hence, community. It began to be used for the sacrament of the Eucharist sometime in the 15th century. It was likely inspired by the verb commune, from the Old French comuner, meaning to make common or share. I mention the above because I was raised in a somewhat Catholic tradition, and Catholics are usually quick to ask whether I partake in communion every Sunday. When I inform them that I do not generally join in, not even during Easter, they tend to dismiss me as a heretic or some such thing because communion is an essential part of Christian worship and attaining salvation in the Catholic tradition. I have nothing against communion, per se. However, I still remember how callously the essentialness of the Eucharist and communion was dismissed a few short years ago. During that time—many long months and, in some cases, longer than that—communion officially became non-essential. I often wondered what Catholics who drummed on about the essentialness and indispensability of communion thought about the obsequious removal of such a vital component of their faith and tradition. Similarly, I also wondered what Catholics were communing with during that time. In what, exactly, were they mutually participating, often quite willingly, eagerly, and obediently? What was the with-oneness, the mutual participation the vast majority accepted with little more than a shrug? Whatever it was, it was most unappealing—to say nothing of unsettling. Regular readers are probably keenly aware of how lackluster my blogging has been this past summer. Truth be told, I have not felt inspired to post much these past two or three months, mostly because I have invested the bulk of my energy into the final push of home renovations. That will likely change come September when my "normal" life kicks back in. Until then, here are some photos of the concrete pour we completed on the pig barn renovation last week.  Framing the space before the concrete arrives. As the photo shows, most of the rubbish is gone. The standing chap is a young local bricklayer. I am the one squatting, hammer and stake in hand. Some of my earlier projects are visible in the background.  The mixer truck arrives. We poured over ten cubic meters of concrete that day--all in 37 degree (Celsius) heat. It was still great fun, though. I rarely leave the vicinity of my small village in the summer, so I don’t see many strangers or meet new people during that time, but that all changed during a walk with my wife this evening. As we descended the main road, we encountered two horses grazing in a field near a blue horse-drawn carriage marked with small Danish flags. “Do you think someone traveled from Denmark in that carriage?” my wife wondered. A moment later, a man who looked to be in his late fifties or early sixties came around the side of the carriage. I asked him if he spoke English, and after he replied in the affirmative, we struck up a short conversation. He confirmed that he was indeed a Dane, introduced himself as Niels, and informed me that he was traveling across Europe in the blue carriage powered by nothing more than his two horses. He then told me he had been on the road for over eight months. I asked him if he had a particular destination in mind. He smiled and said he would go wherever the road took him. Quite an interesting fellow! The video below (in Polish and Danish, not English, sorry, but you can use the subtitle translation option) provides some insight into the individual we met. My twelve-year-old son has taken an interest in the novel I published over a decade ago and wrote a five-star review on Goodreads behind my back without having read the book.
Here it is: He told me that i cant read it cuz I am not 18 or something. BTW i am his son. Simple. I had a broody hen that incubated five eggs, three of which hatched the other day. The third chick, also black and white, is hiding under its mother's wing.  I have another broody hen sitting on 18 eggs, so I'm likely to "pick up" even more chicks in the near future.
I have privately begun to refer to contemporary Westerners as born-again sort of pagans, which is rather silly because, unlike pagans, most modern people of the West have no religion and do not believe in the reality of God or gods. I was initially more inclined to the term born-again atheist, but that somehow disregards the mysterious allure of pagan externals, which appears to intrigue contemporary Westerners to no end. Case in point, many Western people are drawn to things like tattoos, piercings, and other forms of body art—ditto for strange, anachronistic hairstyles. The underlying motivation seems to be the desire to look like a Viking or a gladiator without worrying about what assumptions Vikings or gladiators may have held. I suspect that most Westerners want to project an image like this.  Or this.  But most come off looking more like this.  Or this.  |
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Blog posts tend to be spontaneous, unpolished, first draft entries ranging from the insightful and periodically profound to the poorly-argued and occasionally disparaging. Comments are moderated. Please use your name or a pseudonym in comments. Emails welcome: f er en c ber g er (at) h otm ail (dot) co m Blogs/Sites I Read
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November 2025
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