Round the Herne

An odd ramble around ideas from the English philosopher Thomas Hobbes on social contracts and how this could relate to animist or polytheist ideas. Would a greater focus on mutuality provide a strong ethical basis within the smaller scale western polytheist traditions? Jane Jacobs economic models explored the idea of reciprocity (she uses the term trader) as a basis for a healthier way of interacting than the more Nietzschean approaches that have been in vogue for at least a few centuries now. I wonder to what extent this approach can be extended into spiritual and social/moral realms. This can also link in to ideas on agency within animism, but I'll leave that to some future occasion to explore.  The short version of all this waffle is for us to think of each of the living beings (human or otherwise) that we benefit from in some way, and then deciding on how to reciprocate so that we give benefit back to them in some manner. 

A traditional tale of how a bored king learns something from a humble woodsman. There are a number of variations on this from different parts of the world, but this is my spin on it.

It still being too hot to be creative or in any guise original, I have taken the lazy option of reading somebody else's story which - whilst a very unseasonal choice - smacks of the flames of Hell of which we are getting a foretaste.  The short story, set at a provincial pantomime, was written by the playwright J B Priestly in 1931 though my copy is from a very dog-eared collection of horror tales called "Christopher Lee's Omnibus of Evil" published in 1978 with each tale introduced by the late, great actor (who would have been ideal in the role of Mr Ireton within the story). The 21st century theatrical world seems to be sadly missing any horror specialists to follow in the footsteps of Lee, Cushing, Price etc. I blame the fact on the modern horror films' preference for chainsaws and disembowelment over the staged, gentlemanly menace of the theatrical troopers of yesteryear. We live in an age devoid of subtlety or nuance. Or maybe I have just become a fully-fledg

  A short story from the collection Scottish Fairy Tales, published by Bracken books. My edition is from 1993, but the stories are written in a much older style so this may well be a reprint from earlier. This particular short story is called "The Seal Catcher and the Merman". It involves an encounter with what would normally be called as selkie, though is referred to as a merman. A little graphic at the start, but it ends well! For anyone unfamiliar with folklore, a selkie is a creature that can take the shape of a seal in the oceans or a human when they fancy a walk on the land. Al the accounts suggest that they are gentle creatures, though easily taken advantage of because of it. Most selkie stories feature seal-women so it is unusual to have a story involving a male selkie.

Early August is, for many pagans, the time when they celebrate what the Anglo-Saxons referred to as Lammas and the Irish called Lughnasadh (which is not to say these festivals are identical). The Irish term takes its name from the deity Lugh, this name tracking back to the early Celtic Lugus - altars to whom are found in many places. Myth has it that Lugh was born what might be termed mixed-race in that his father was of the Tuatha de Danann, the tribe of the goddess Danu, whist his mother was of their mortal enemies the Tuatha de Domnu - she being the goddess of the abyss in the deep sea. Descriptions of her offspring rather make them sound like something dreamed up by Lovecraft. Not all of them are horrific though, and Lugh's mother Ethniu is one of these.  The tribe of Danu arrive in great, impenetrable clouds that descend upon the Iron Mountain in what is now County Leitrim and discover that Ireland is already inhabited by the Fir Bolg. The people of the sky meet the people of