jabel

From the latest essay by Rhyd Wildermuth:

Again, worlding is what we do and is not dependent on what we believe. This make the question not “what is true?” but rather “what do we include?” We already live in a world full of gods and spirits, but for the disenchanted mind, these are so distant in the background and so excluded from our consciousness that we can say “they don’t exist” without any feeling of falsehood.

But what we’re really saying is “I don’t include them in my worlding.”

This brings to my mind the thoroughly argued (perhaps argued to death) question of faith–a word which I don’t even like, to be honest. It’s been so thoroughly bashed and abused that it feels most compassionate to lay the poor word to rest for a few centuries until some fresh wind stirs it to life again.

The damage done to the idea of faith is one reason why I believe the Protestant Reformation was an unfortunate mistake. The dispute over faith and works has resulted, on the whole, in an idea of faith that cashes out to “belief without proof.” Enter the apologists and the atheists, arguing ad nauseum.

At this point, I prefer Conan the Barbarian’s approach: “What god do you pray to?” As the Weird Studies guys point out about that clip, the phrasing is important. “What god do you pray to?” Not “what god do you believe in?”

Years ago I was talking to an academic historian friend (a Christian) who said comparative religion scholars had often misunderstood world “religions” by looking at them through a Christian lens that centers beliefs. It is important to understand, he said, that the day to day life of most practitioners is more about diet and calendar than any set of doctrines.

Getting back to Rhyd’s essay: The relevant point is not whether I (squeezing my eyes tight like a child wishing for a Red Ryder BB gun) believe in spirits. Rather, I ask myself, “do I include them in my worlding?” Do I worry over intellectual questions about spirits of the land or do I build them a shrine in the backyard and make offerings? “I will shew thee my faith by my works.”

There is a place for those intellectual questions, to be sure. But before all else, it is the orientation of the heart in day-to-day practice that matters most. In place of the word “faith” I would substitute “acting in trust.” That phrase holds together what the last few hundred years of disputes in the Christian west has pulled apart. When I build that shrine, I am acting in trust; I am building my life and structuring my dwelling in relationship with a living cosmos. Living in that way, the intellectual questions take their proper place.

It’s Hobbit Day, as all civilized Shirelings know. Specifically, it’s Bilbo and Frodo’s birthday, as well as the autumnal equinox. I recommend shepherd’s pie and persimmon pudding, which is how we celebrated yesterday. (Leftovers today!)

This morning I’m listening to the Weird Studies episode about Conan the Barbarian, mostly in preparation for an upcoming post. Of all the wonderful Weird Studies episodes, by the way, that is one of my favorites, both because it was a fun topic and because it bring back memories of one of my road trips, travelling between Corydon and Leavenworth.

In any case, J.F. says his favorite fantasy trope is where the characters live in a land with an evident but mostly forgotten ancient history. Hyboria and Middle Earth are similar in this way, he says.

It got me thinking about Middle Earth as it stood during the events of Lord of the Rings, at the end of the Third Age. Everyone knew something was changing. Even in the Shire, protected by the Dunedain Rangers, the hobbits heard rumors of trouble. The wisest of Middle Earth’s folk, though they knew a great deal about both path and present, could not predict how events would play out. In fact, it was only known in retrospect that they were living through the final days of the Third Age.

It’s always a good time to re-read LOTR–perhaps especially so now.

Rachel made a shadow box in honor of our house and all the ancestors and spirits of place. Her description of the contents:

• The wooden planks that help make up the back panel are from the house itself. I gathered them from the attic.
• The printouts are from newspaper clippings. Updates began with the Owens getting permits to build the house, and ending the week they moved in.
• The prickly seed pods are from the sweet gum tree that the Elliots planted. This tree is special because it went up into space on The Discovery Shuttle with astronaut Charlie Walker in 1984.
• The white landscape rocks are also from the Elliots.
• The flowers are plants I grew in the back yard.
• The box was made by Jeremy.
• The feather that is in with the bouquet is from a bird that found refuge here. It represents all the critters that also call this place home, even if just for a short time.
• The dirt in the jar is from the front yard. It is here in remembrance of every person, group, tribe, and spirit that ever moved across this land.
• And a picture of the house as it looks in 2025.