Some Books on Celtic Mysticism Part 2

Introduction: Gathering the experts from Divergent Fields.

In this post, I would like to review Invoking Ireland by the philosopher/mystic John Moriarty (1938 - 2007). Before I begin that review, I would like to offer the reader some insights from various disciplines like philosophy, spirituality, psychology and mythology as Moriarty's writing is so heavily based in Celtic mythology, and in world literature and philosophy in general.

Like any decent scholar, it is good to start our reflections with a question. Let us take the very basic philosophical question: "What is reality?" as a starting point.  Materialists tell us that reality is the sum total of what our senses tell us.  Such a stance is called materialism or physicalism, and it follows an empirical method of investigating the various objects of hard reality by quantifying and measuring them as precisely as possible.

Then there is the opposing philosophical theory of Idealism of which there are two main types.  Firstly, there is the theory of Plato (428 - 347 B.C.) which sees the objective world as a flawed copy (all copies are inherently flawed by definition) or mimesis of the real Ideas that exist abstractly and absolutely on another plane. The second type of idealism is that of George Berkeley (1685 - 1753) and others who view the mind or consciousness as the source of everything.  Nothing would exist if there were no minds around to perceive these objects.  Berkeley's catchphrase was "esse est percipi", Latin for "to be is to be perceived."

Now, let us welcome a scholar from the field of mythology to throw some light on my review.  The great twentieth century scholar Joseph Campbell (1904 - 1987), stressed the importance of mythology for any culture by stating that it acts as a psychological and spiritual map for human experience.  Hence, Carl Jung's (1875 - 1961) deep and life-long interest in the mythologies of all cultures.  Jung believed from early in his career that myths provide clues to the meaning of life.  Reflecting on their significance helps us navigate personal transitions and further helps us form connections with others and the universe in general.

The Christian scholars and religious devotees from the first century AD onwards in the then overlapping fields of theology and philosophy found in Platonism and Neoplatonism fertile soil to base their religious theses on such topics as the existence of God, the ideas of salvation, redemption and so on.  The ancient world of belief was more animated by faith in the supernatural and the afterlife than by the concrete objects of this world that were so impermanent.

Myths, of which religions share in a good number, are not crazy irrelevant stories.  They are rather highly symbolic and metaphoric stories that fill us with a sense of awe, wonder and gratitude towards the mysterious universe in which we are just an infinitessimal speck.  Campbell calls this the mystical function of myth.  

Myths also validate the social structures we live in and the moral codes we live by. In that way, they help build up our communities, both religious and secular.

Furthermore, myths help us define ourselves as nations and indeed as individuals.  In other words, they are linked strongly with our national and personal identities.

Myths may be called primitive, but significant stories that helped and can still help human beings make sense of their lives. Those primitive stories helped shape the very meaning of the lives of our ancestors. As one of my favourite existential psychiatrists, Viktor Frankl (1905 - 1997) puts it: the one thing that can render the human being significant and unique is his or her unique search for meaning.  In short, we are meaning-seeking and meaning-making beings.  It is in all the ways outlined by Campbell, Jung and psychiatrists like Frankl that John Moriarty approaches his invoking and evoking Ireland. His chosen path to meaning and authenticity is through the Celtic Myths.  Let us explore his path with him and see where it might lead.

John Moriarty was a metaphorical archaeologist of the human soul or self, interested in digging down into its depths.  He was also a metaphorical mountaineer of its heights. He explores, then, both the soul's ancient caverns and its mystical mountains.  He is a modern pilgrim who sets out to explore Ireland's rich and often eclipsed and forgotten past.  In the last three centuries, he argues that we Irish as a people have walked away in succession from our native language, from our shared religion, from our folk customs and are now even walking away from our local accents. All of this walking away from has eroded and diminished our sense of identity as Irish natives.  Hence, he invites us to walk back with him into our Celtic heritage, into the inner realms, in the company of great mythological figures like Lugh, Danu and Macha.

He sees our modern psyche as shattered, metaphorically broken into two pieces represented by two mythological groups: the Tuatha Dé Danann and the Fomorians.  The Tuatha Dé represent all that is good and sacred in the Irish psyche or identity, whereas the Fomorians capture all that is malevolent and chaotic - the dark forces that have lured us away from our sacred heritage as a people.  Moriarty argues in his general introduction that we can "reconstitute ourselves as a people working from within our tradition." (p 7) We can conquer the Fomorian in us by following the enticing music and rich traditions of the Tuatha Dé Danann, who were ultimately victorious at the Second Battle of Magh Tuiread.

Moriarty loves the magic of language.  He tells us that "by invoking Ireland we are evoking it" (p. 8). To invoke is to call upon from the outside, whereas to evoke is to call forth from the inside.  In other words, there is a two-way movement at work here.  Ireland will answer our call both from without and from within.  He argues that the attitude of modern Ireland (he was writing during the time of the Celtic Tiger) is that of the Fomorians.  We are preoccupied with overwhelming technologies and owning more and more things.  In short, this observation by Moriarty is mirrored in the category of "having" as advanced by the psychoanalyst Erich Fromm (1900 - 1980). According to Fromm, in his classic book To Have or To Be (1976), there are two modes of existence that shape all human experience.  The having mode corresponds to Moriarty's Fomorian pole of existence - a preoccupation with possessions, greed and control.  The being mode, on the other hand, corresponds with Moriarty's Tuath Dé Danann mode of existing in the world.  This mode centres on creative and productive activity, authentic presence, openness and deep connection with others and with the planet. It is deeply in touch with the music and magic of life.

For Moriarty, as for most of us, music plays an enchanting, indeed for some of us a mystical, role in our lives.  He stresses the power of music in the long Celtic tradition, how it both invokes and evokes the true and authentic identity of Ireland in her three divine incarnations: Éire, Fódhla and Banba.  Music also helps us connect with our innermost soul or self, invoking and evoking authentic national and personal identity.

Moriarty quotes the old Irish song of Amergin (Amhairghin), with a fine personal translation of it.  It is an ancient song of praise for the majesty, power and wonder of all things in nature.  He puts Amergin on an equal footing with the Greek Orpheus.  For both of these mythical and mystical figures, true sovereignty over the physical earth with all its peoples and animals means attuning ourselves to the music of Earth in its fullness rather than conquering and mercilessly exploiting it. 

The big quandary facing us as a nation, indeed as the human race, Moriarty argues, is how we can drop the ego-ensnared drive to domination and power over others and the earth (our Fomorian nature) and replace it with an other-centred and Earth-centred mode of existing like that of the Tuatha Dé Danann in mystical union with the best that Christianity has to offer.  In this sense, Moriarty's mysticism is both universal and syncretic, that is, it combines and blends different religious beliefs to form a unified presentation of one's own convictions and beliefs.

With the Orpheus-like Amergin, we are musically invoking and evoking the Imagined Éire as a virtual Utopia which he designates as Énflaith or Birdreign.  This reign is a way of living that turns its back on the Fomorian/Having way of existing in the world.  Again, we will need no reminding here that in this mystical view of life, much of this particular presentation of things is highly idealistic.  I do believe that Moriarty is far too unrealistic for most of us, but I believe he is very authentic.  Also, I believe that even if we find his perspective far too fanciful, we can at least accept his exaggerations here as forcing us to focus on the modern, ongoing, and increasing neglect of the depth dimension of the human self and the spiritual nature of the human soul.  At the very least, Moriarty is calling us back to balance head and heart, body and soul, matter and spirit.

Moriarty's book is teeming with images of ancient gods and beings of all shapes and sizes from Irish mythology.  When he speaks of our preoccupation with Fomorian power and control, he conjures up for us the image of the one-eyed giant, Balor of the Evil Eye: "Our collective eye is a Balor's eye, poisoned and poisoning, reducing everything in sight to commodity.  And as is the collective." (p 8).  

However, while we meet many a monster, as we journey inland "to regain our lost or stolen soul," we are helped on our way by other mythological figures like Danú, Macha and Lugh whose escapades and healing actions he describes in the second and final part of this short book.  Danú is the great Mother of the earth and of the Tuatha Dé Danann.  She represents care, concern and succour for the earth and for all its peoples.  In this regard, she represents the retrieval of our primordial soul.  Moriarty expresses our journey to gain her succour in poetic terms: "What's wrong about a mystical ascent between the Paps of Danu?" (p. 12) In our ascent, we can encourage one another by singing the Orphic or Amerginian notes of invocation and evocation.

The god Lugh represents the light of all skills, as he is the master of all arts.  Also called Lugh Lámh Fhada in Gaelic, it was he who slayed the evil one-eyed monster, Balor, thus heralding the fall of the race of Fomorians.  Lugh also enlightens our confusion by guiding us with clarity of thought and vision.  He helps the soul remember its true nature. 

The goddess Macha comes in the shape of a wild horse.  In her wildness and sheer fullness of life, she cannot be bridled or tethered or domesticated by human tyranny.  She is a free and wild force of nature that represents the untameable but creative vitality within us.  She reminds us to have respect for the untamed sacredness of all life and creation and does not want us to exploit or dominate it.  We are called upon to respect Mother Earth or Gaia like all good sailors who respect the sea, like all good mountaineers who respect the mountains.  

When we look around us at the constant devastation of our planet through unconscionable wars, wanton destruction of life, limb and property, ecological ignorance and the refusal in certain quarters to accept the solid science of global warming, we could certainly call the mystical life and prophetic message of John Moriarty the futile efforts of a lonely voice calling in the wilderness.  

P. S.

I am adding this postscript a few weeks after writing this post.  

*Amergin is spelt variously in the literature: Amergin Glúingel or Glúingeal ("white knees") or Amhairghin Glúngheal or Glúnmhar ("big knee"). He was appointed Chief Ollamh na hÉireann by his two brothers, the kings of Ireland. A number of poems attributed to Amergin/Amhairghin are part of what's called Milesian mythology.

**As Moriarty's writing is highly poetic, replete with many allusions to mythological figures from Celtic culture, classical culture, Irish and Gaelic literature, not to mention Hindu and Buddhist literatures, his writing can be very complex for the purely cognitive mind, but mystically and magically hypnotic for the emotions and instincts associated with the limbic and reptilian brain, respectively.  At times, you can also hear the rhythms of T.S. Eliot insinuate themselves into Moriarty's sublime prose.  Let me quote the final passage in this magical and mystical opus.  In this final paragraph, the reader is confronted with a veritable orchestra of philosophical and theological sounds encompassing all: Richard Wagner, Friedrich Nietzsche, Jakob Boehme, Friedrich Schelling, Hegel and T. S. Eliot, as well as the sublime and frightening tones of the Celtic gods:

To greet Christ who has crossed the Torrent is to greet ... BUDDHA GAIA // It is for us and for our gods and our heroes to grow with Christ, // here in Irlanda Ultima ... But there could be something in it for Jesus were he to ascend // Between the breasts of Danú. // And there could be, were he to do likewise, for Lugh. // And there could be, were she to do likewise, for Macha ... // We are talking about the most blessed of gotterdammerungs, the return of everything to God as Divine Ungrund, // the Divine Ungrund that grounds, and who now, having gone beyond, could ever again settle for rapture, for the vulgarity, by comparison, of rapture,  for the vulgarity, by comparison, of bliss.

             Shantih                                Shantih                                Shantih  (p. 227)