Church Swine

 

Oh, it must have been almost a month ago that my friend Jackie showed up with the then latest issue of NME and gave it to me - he'd bought it for me - and I didn't know what to expect, I've been kind of out of the loop for a while. My eyes adjusted and I saw Richey Edwards on the cover. Well thanks so much, bud, this is swell because I don't always enter into society, I would have missed this issue and probably the next 500 to come, but whatever, materials. This is neat though, so I'd intended to give appreciation.

If you've not heard of Richey Edwards, that's a shame. He was the co-lyricist, rhythm guitarist and representative for the Manic Street Preachers. They're one of several bands I hold in high regard, their social commentary is the most effective and they really spoke for a generation, especially at a time when Madchester, Britpop, alcohol and pills were on the agenda.

It was coming up to the 20th anniversary of their beloved album, The Holy Bible, and so that's why they've got an extensive feature in this issue. Ten pages worth, rightly.

That is a Kerrang issue on the left. Dirty, dirty mag. I heard there was a Manic's Holy Bible feature in there, and there it is, all of two pages. Most impassioned band to grace the pages of that rag in years, I reckon. Since they changed their demographic it's been like a cross between a dirty magazine and a kids comic.

Still, good to see them featured at all. Maybe some scene kids will be able to discern what's real from what is a ream of superficial ridiculousness.

Heading: IS THIS THE DARKEST RECORD EVER?

I consider it to be in that division. If not the darkest, then certainly one of. For a reason though; it's not dark for the sake of it; it is the unembellished, ugly truth which religions choose to ignore. And ignorance breeds suffering, so why does religion nurture it? Because the ignorant and the weak are easily herded.

For all of its truth, by no means is it an ugly album; it's a plethora of emotions, truly a work of art. What I say can scarcely do it justice. Lyrically scathing, poetic and poignant, too. Richey wrote around 70-75% of the lyrical input for the record and it is unparalleled. I can only imagine the exquisite works he'd have produced if he'd stayed around and been able to overcome his despair.

Cover slogan: BRAND NEW TESTAMENT

It's been almost a month and I've not read either article. I'm always preoccupied, hence the delayed appreciation. I would have liked to have taken a picture with the magazine on the early evening it was given to me, a sobering sunset, sat on a park bench, but never mind, instead what we have are a selection of photos in a church. Kind of appropriate, kind of senseless.

I actually took them to read, but didn't get around to it. I finished the last three chapters of Kundalini Tales, then found half a bottle of church wine and impulsively downed the lot. I don't even like alcohol, haven't touched it in a couple of years, so got considerably tipsy. Essentially drank the blood of Christ and let the congregation go without. Afterwards I tried to comprehend what made me think it was a good idea to begin with. Strange one. Brain's readjusted now.

Serpent and the Butterfly

A few reflections on this day, considering the expression that there is 'no such thing as coincidences' (but synchronistic events...)

I stopped by a church so as to read and meditate in the quiet, away from distractions. I've always been appreciative of the architecture and atmosphere of churches and that I can differentiate between the building and the oppression that surrounds it. The artificial lighting overhead was switched off, suitably, and I chose to sit in the aisle which had a nice golden glow about it.

I was finishing Kundalini Tales and reflecting on what I'd read after each short chapter, enjoying the calm and the space. The book, by the way, is about the 'serpent energy' or serpent-like energy that we supposedly have in our possession - an aspect of the divine within our souls. I've had many unusual and often captivating experiences since my mid-teens, although I'd never associated them with the kundalini as it's not something I'd heard of until recently; I'm still not sure that my experiences are related to it - there are definite similarities, also inconsistencies - but it is possible.

Several times I looked up at the stained-glass window beside me without realising which biblical passage the image stood for. Then I noticed the serpent on the staff behind the man and realised it was Moses and... ah yeah.

'Even so must the Son of Man be lifted up...' (John 3:14)

One of the passages I mentioned in Afterglow and how it could be an allusion to the kundalini. A couple more snakes entangled there, almost appearing as two-headed, a dualistic quality. Unknowingly I'd taken a seat next to the window that depicts the lifting of the serpent in the wilderness, which is compared to the later story of the Son of Man being lifted up, to read from my serpent-related book. A neat coincidence, I thought.

Then I heard some fluttering sounds across the other side of the church. A butterfly had got inside through a tiny window and couldn't get back out. I watched for a moment, thinking on how its life was short and precious and that if it couldn't get out it wouldn't get to enjoy its final phase of magnificence; how people, too, are trapped by the church and religion. Prisons of the cross. The butterfly is of great importance to me, its symbolism, I'll write more on this soon; the next phase in my spiritual development is the last and I believe it to be near. As a result, inner tension and conflict is at a peak, I'll either crash and burn - or - take flight, shine on, transcend.

So, I saw this butterfly as a symbol of my current situation - trapped, unable to get out or break habitual behaviours, stagnation... As far as I'm aware the butterfly found its way out within a couple of minutes - the fluttering stopped - I hope so. If I could have gotten a photo of it against the old lattice window and azure sky, that would have been rad. Alas...

I finished reading, three chapters to go, and decided to blast out some Japanese Voyeurs and Marilyn Manson's Mechanical Animals on the church speakers. Then vicar came along and I made a dash to turn the music down and off, fumbling with the controls, obviously he heard. Seemed a friendly guy, so I asked him a question about the stained-glass window, how he would interpret the line: 'That rock was Christ'. It took him a while to answer, he had to recall what he'd been taught - fair enough, there's a lot of passages to remember - and his interpretation was textbook, recital, of course; to do with Moses and Jesus in their respective times providing water to the needy people. He didn't go into detail about what water is representative of from a spiritual perspective, but that's what I was thinking of - the living water, the Holy Spirit, Mary, Star of the Sea...

Anyway, best thing he said was, "Yes, they seemed to be obsessed with serpents back then."

Yes, yes they did. Why oh why, vicar?

I told him I'm not religious but in the middle, taking from different sources, and that's my way. I assume he took this to mean that I'm lost, as he invited me to a free autumn course for 'those who think there is more to life'. I'm considering going along in October - me, the pilgrim - just to observe the indoctrination.

Now to tie up loose ends, get this poor show over with. The magic número trois. I was tired, had to decide on the short or long route home, happened to choose the long route, and so I walked right by a dead snake. I took this as similar symbolism to the trapped butterfly - stagnation, wasted and unmet potential, shadow side; imbalance; destruction...
I hadn't seen a snake in over a decade until now. I've seen a couple of slow-worms, heh. This was a grass snake, coiled, certainly dormant, quite flattened by the wheel of a car and quite dead. I should have taken a picture for archive sake, not at all morbid. Alas, t'was not meant to be.

No such thing as coincidences, but synchronistic events. Serpent and the Butterfly. Both are symbolic of renewal or rebirth. The serpent sheds its skin and the butterfly goes through its metamorphosis to reach that glorious stage. I see these examples as like living sticky notes, reminders. They're there, on the periphery, something is definitely in motion, definitely occurring. I think they're a reminder of how fragile life is, especially in my current state of health, and that I can either embrace these days or they'll slip away. I know which I'd rather.