Nimue Brown's Blog, page 15

Telling other people’s stories

(Nimue)

As bards, writers and storytellers we have responsibilities. When we’re telling other people’s stories, there are a lot of issues to be alert to. This is not an exhaustive list of questions to ask, but hopefully useful.

Do I understand the context for this story? Is my understanding of the story good enough to do it justice? What is my relationship with this story and is there any aspect of that which needs consideration? For example, am I speaking from a colonising race and sharing a story from an oppressed people? How am I framing this? What does my sharing the story achieve?

Am I sharing this story for the benefit of the people/ person whose story it is? How am I doing that? Am I using my privilege to help and amplify someone else, or to draw attention to issues or improve cultural understanding? These can be good things to do. If the primary aim of telling someone else’s story is to make me look good, I need to be cautious.

Is there any risk that I am misrepresenting something I don’t understand? Could that be harmful or misleading? Could anyone be hurt by how I am telling this story? Am I talking over someone else, or drawing attention away from where it could more helpfully be focused? Am I making this about me when it isn’t about me?

Honour is important on the bard path. We have to ask what our stories will do in the world. What do we elevate and make more visible? What do we silence, hide or deny? Stories have power, and we need to take that power seriously. The more privilege we have, the easier it is for us to benefit from taking other people’s stories and putting those into the world on our own terms. The world needs more diverse stories that aren’t dominated by those with the most power. This isn’t easy to do well.

If you think (as some people definitely do) that being a writer or storyteller means you should be able to tell anyone’s story, I invite you to question that. I invite you to tell yourself a story about a situation in which that might be a very bad choice. It is better to share from places of deep understanding rather than assuming that we know what other people are experiencing, without taking the time to really find out.

Season of the witch

(Nimue)

When this post appears I will be on the road, heading towards a nine day gig in Northumberland. I shall be pretending to be a witch, with this fabulous hat made specifically for this job by Bronte Jade Voice. Bronte sings with Carnival of Cryptids and is an absolute genius when it comes to making things.

It’s not a ‘traditional’ black witches hat. But then, those hats are a modern fantasy. I’m doing dress-up to amuse people, but I’ll also be talking about the real history of witchcraft and cunning folk, sharing folklore, stories and music and doing my best to both inform and amuse. It’s lovely having this opportunity to bring a number of my skills and areas of knowledge into play.

I’ve set the blog up so it should run without me – I’ll be checking in, but not as often as usual. Somewhere on the far side of the gig there will be more photos to share, and whatever I learn from the experience.

Grief and falling away

(Nimue)

Autumn is a time when Pagans are often inclined to think of what they are letting go of. The harvest is in (in theory), the leaves are falling and we’re moving towards the winter. Most of the time I find my life doesn’t align much with these wheel of the year narratives, but right now there’s some resonance.

What we let go if isn’t always within our control. I suspect it’s much the same for trees. Those falling autumn leaves are sometimes ripped off by storms when still green. Temperatures impact on trees, it’s not all about choosing to let go. Often life obliges us to let go, whether we want to or not. Changes of all kinds bring grief. I’m also finding that grief can be an essential part of healing.

At the moment I am letting go of old and untrue stories relating to myself. We all encounter a lot of stories about who we are, and what our actions mean. That can be incredibly helpful guidance which enables us to grow and learn – if its done well. If we are given stories that crush us, invalidate bits of us, and insist on seeing the worst in us, we do not thrive. I’m conscious of the ways in which bigotry does that to entire minority groups on a daily basis.

It’s a strange sort of grief – this dealing with misleading stories and what they did to me. It’s been startling, being given new stories in which I am easy to be around, nice to live with, reasonable, undemanding and easy to understand. I’m starting to get used to myself on these terms. That adjustment process brings up grief.

It’s important to have room for all of the feelings – also something I’ve lacked in the past. One of the things I appreciate about Druidry is that there is no pressure to only feel ‘good’ or ‘positive’ emotions. To be natural is to allow your full range of feelings. Our emotions are part of our embodied existence. Philosophies and religions that reject some or all emotions as unacceptable often include elements of wanting to transcend life and deny our animal natures. I don’t see emotions as irrational, and increasingly I think there’s a big patriarchal/colonial aspect to all of this denying of feeling. As is so often the way of it, the microcosm of our lives reflects what’s around us.

It’s good to grieve over what you’ve lost and to acknowledge what has caused you pain. Having to hide pain, or pretending not to feel it for someone else’s comfort is an unjust thing. Grief invites us to be kind to our soft mammal bodies, and to seek comfort. Grief invites us to be compassionate in face of our own wounds, and each other’s losses. If we can’t feel our own grief, how can we meet anyone else’s suffering kindly?

The leaves fall away. Colour departs from the world, and the colder days will soon be here. You can celebrate, mourn, honour and love something all at the same time. The wild world in autumn has a lot to teach us on that score.

Health, evidence and identity

(Nimue)

I’ve always had a wonky digestive system. Trying to figure out what offends it, and what doesn’t has been an ongoing issue for me. Given that periods and stress also mess it up, identifying problem foods has taken a while. With some foods, it’s about a level of intolerance, with others its about how cooked they need to be. This process has taught me some curious things about belief.

About a year ago I started exploring whether sourdough bread would be better for me than regular bread. I quickly established that it does help, but I still wasn’t right. I went on to set up a white starter alongside my brown starter. Over the months it seemed like I was doing better with the white than the brown. It took me a long time to trust that evidence and switch over to white full time. The impact on my gut health has been dramatic.

We all know that higher fibre diets are better for us. Clearly there’s something in wheat bran that my gut objects to. I’ve been resistant to accepting it – and it became obvious that the resistance is a belief issue. I’m invested in the idea of brown bread, and in being the sort of person who eats brown bread. Giving it up demands that I give up something I’m invested in as part of my sense of self.

I went round comparable issues when I started adding small amounts of meat to my diet. I was obliged to accept that between the wonky gut and the monstrous periods, I could not meet my own iron needs any other way. My sense of self included ‘vegetarian’. I’m still not comfortable with my choices.

Changing what you do in light of new evidence is easy enough if you don’t have an emotional investment. Switching over to something better isn’t a difficult idea, normally. But, having observed my own resistance to ideas at odds with my sense of self, I can see what a struggle it is to take those onboard. This, no doubt, is an issue for many climate deniers. When your beliefs are part of your identity, the evidence is a lot less persuasive.

We all know about people online who cannot accept evidence and would rather take on any preposterous idea that lets the keep their core beliefs intact. Changing people’s minds is an urgent issue, but I’m aware that bludgeoning people with facts isn’t going to shift them.

You can have a significant change of belief without having a total loss of self. I’ve been through a few along the way, and they are always scary. I don’t quite know where to go with this at the moment, but it’s an experience that has given me a bit more empathy, and a bit more insight into why people reject evidence.

Erika and the Princes in Distress 2

(Nimue, review)

This is Yatuu’s second comedy fantasy graphic novel. I reviewed the first one over here – https://druidlife.wordpress.com/2020/08/30/erika-and-the-princes-in-distress/

You could start here as the story isn’t excessively complicated, but why deprive yourself of the first one? These are great fun.

The set-up is a world where women are big, muscly and in charge and boys are little and delicate and a bit infantilised.  Erika is a princess who wants to rule without having to get married, so she’s on a quest to save enough princes in distress to prove to her mother that she’s got what it takes. Our second prince has terrible bad breath, which makes the whole kissing to break the curse thing a bit awkward.

By reversing conventional gender roles, Yatuu is able to poke fun at gender conventions and  explore sexism. Things that we’re used to seeing muscle-bound ‘heroes’ do are shown to be weird and uncomfortable through the role-reversals. It’s clever and funny. Women who are tired of stories where women are only ever victims or prizes will find this rather satisfying.

If you like comedy fantasy and/or girls with swords, this is a must. It’s a charming tale, told at a good pace, with dynamic and uncluttered art, plenty of humour and some original fantastical elements. Buy a copy for the girls in your life who need something other than Disney princesses. I’m not confident about what books would suit people of what ages, but I reckon the ‘tween’s upwards would be fine with this.

Erika is published by Sloth Comics – who also publish Hopeless, Maine (my graphic novel series). I came to these comics through sharing a publisher, and had an advanced pdf to review. It’s rare that I end up reviewing something where I don’t have a relationship with the creator, but I only put things on here that I’ve enjoyed and think will entertain blog readers. There’s nothing Pagan whatsoever about this title, but the values the story represents really speak to me. Fundamentally this is a tale about overcoming gender-norms and being true to yourself, which is all good stuff.

You can find Erika vols 1 and 2 on all the book selling sites. Here’s the Waterstones link – https://www.waterstones.com/book/erika-and-the-princes-in-distress-2/yatuu/9781908830234

The trouble with doing nothing

(Nimue)

Declining to act is not a morally neutral choice. In situations of bullying and abuse, to do nothing is to tacitly support the abuser. It is always the case that doing nothing is a choice that supports the status quo. Given that ‘business as usual’ is killing people and planet alike, that’s an impactful, dangerous sort of choice. Even when there isn’t much we can do, showing up in ways that demonstrate we aren’t supporting what’s happening, is so important.

In our personal lives, doing nothing can easily translate into neglect. If we have power over someone – a child, a vulnerable adult, someone who needs care – then neglect rapidly becomes harmful. In more balanced relationships, neglect can cause distress and discomfort and is likely to result in the other person stepping away. No one wants to be ignored, forgotten or treated dismissively.

It can be easy to persuade ourselves that either we can’t do anything, or it doesn’t matter that we aren’t trying. It can be healthier all round to acknowledge the lack of desire to act, and move on to something better. The person who wants the benefits of their situation without offering any kind of care or appreciation in return may have a lot of motives not to recognise that in themselves.

It is much better to persuade ourselves that the good we can do is worth doing. Whatever we can manage will have an effect. Simply expressing care is radically different from the  way inaction affects people and situations. Doing what we can feels more powerful than doing nothing. The rewards from making small changes are not to be underestimated.

If we accept powerlessness, we accept things as they are. If we embrace the idea that we can act meaningfully in the world, we are able to do more than if we refuse that idea. A smile and a kind word can be enough to transform someone else’s day. Small things have a habit of mounting up until they become very large. Inaction over time builds greater feelings of powerlessness and futility. It breeds misery. Showing up builds hope and possibility.

Being a muse

(Nimue)

Originally, the muses were beings with deity status, and it was understood that inspiration came from them, to be manifested by people. Somewhere along the line that sacred wonder was replaced with the idea of a passive, beautiful woman whose beauty leads a male creator to do their thing. If you’d like to read some especially horrible thoughts on this, Robert Graves in The White Goddess explains why women cannot be poets.

The idea that women are supposed to be passive and men are supposed to be active does none of us any favours. Thankfully in Druidry, the idea of inspiration is in no way linked to sexy ladies. The Awen as a force has nothing to do with gender. It gives us much more interesting possibilities around the idea of how we might bring inspiration into the world.

There’s considerably more to inspiration than lounging about looking pretty. Anyone sharing their own creativity might potentially inspire someone else. It’s also a factor when we share ideas, direct attention to other people’s creativity, invite action and ask for input. There are many ways in which one person can bring inspiration to another, and every day brings possibilities on that score. Finding you’ve inspired someone else is usually an exciting and uplifting experience, as well.

It’s worth thinking about the opportunities we have to lift and encourage each other. The world has a lot of people in it who set out to undermine, to knock others down and discourage them. Knocking down is an easy thing to do that calls for little skill, knowledge or imagination. Inspiring people can take a bit more effort, but is intrinsically beautiful and rewarding. It’s a way of bringing magic into your own life, and into someone else’s.

History shapes us

(Nimue)

All too often ‘history’ seems to mean events that happened somewhere else, to people who were not like us. Historical narratives often reinforce the importance of a small, power-wielding elite while saying nothing about the lives of most people.

Everywhere has a history. Sometimes we can read that easily in the landscape. More often, seeing it does not help us much in terms of understanding what is there. Place names sometimes hold clues to both history and local folklore. Local museums include local history, but the stories they tell often depend on the objects available to them. It’s worth noting that items relating to working class life don’t make it into museums very often as they tend to be used until they are worn out or broken.

Recently, a friend of mine mentioned on Facebook that he’d only just learned that Lady Jane Grey was declared Queen in Gloucester. We were at school together. I don’t remember learning any local history in a classroom. And yet…

Gloucestershire was popular with the Romans. Gloucester was a big port through much of history, and the site of all kinds of events. Tewkesbury saw a significant battle in the Wars of the Roses. The bicycle was invented here, also the lawnmower and the vacuum cleaner. The hill near my home saw a massive Chartist meeting, right next to the long barrow that’s up there. We have a lot of long barrows here, on a nationally important scale.

I’ve learned my local history as an adult, aware that the enormity of what I don’t know massively outstrips the little I’ve picked up. I think history would seem meaningful to a lot more people if some of it was closer to home. The connections between past and present are more obvious with local history. When you can see how the past impacts on you, then the importance of the past is also more visible.

Knowing your own history, your family history, your cultural history and your landscape history is really important for rooting your sense of self. It can also help us avoid damaging fantasies and ideas that lead towards fascism.

For more of this sort of thinking, check out my Druidry and the Ancestors book. https://www.collectiveinkbooks.com/moon-books/our-books/Druidry-Ancestors

Pretending to be Clive Barker

(Nimue)

I was fourteen when I first read Clive Barker’s Weaveworld, and a bit older when I read Imajica. Both books had a huge impact on me. Weaveworld gave me the idea of tapestry as a metaphor for time and existence. It’s an idea that relates to various myths – most obviously The Norns of Norse mythology who spin fate, Welsh Arianrhod as a spinner and Ariadne with her thread. It’s an idea that has helped me in so many ways throughout my life.

Imajica was my first encounter with a gender-complicated character. The story features someone who is both genders and neither, and mirrored something in me that I had not been previously conscious of.

Back in 2023, New York Times bestselling author Seven Savile asked me if I’d be interested in doing a project with him. He wanted some world building for a creepy, gothic town and was aware of the work I’d done on the Hopeless, Maine project. I jumped in enthusiastically. While we were discussing tone and style and other such things, we came to the agreement that it might be good if I just tried to be as Clive Barker as possible.

I brought to the project all the strangeness I could muster. Including Mr Barker’s approach to monstrosity and how he questions who, and what is truly monstrous, and what it means to be a monster. It’s in no way a rip-off of anything he’s done, but my contribution is very much inspired by the kinds of stories he writes.

I’ve never previously made a conscious effort to emulate him in this way. It’s not how I usually approach the writing process. Obviously it’s different when I’m ghost writing or have some other kind of commission where emulating is part of the job. It was a good experience for me, tapping into inspiration that has been with me for so much of my life.

The physical version comes out in November. You can find the first ebook instalment over here, out shortly and available for pre-order. https://www.amazon.co.uk/gp/product/B0DJ9H3YTY

Magic and nature

(Nimue)

In fantastical representations of magic, what we get is magic as a means to defy the laws of nature. In a lot of the magic we see people doing in reality, that doesn’t happen. It’s more about skewing the odds in your favour, so that things that very much could happen go the way you want them to.

Recently, David Bridger raised the idea of magic as connection with nature, and I wanted to move that idea out of the comments to talk about it more. It came up around the recent post about divination.

The more in tune you are with what’s going on, the more able you are to make that work for you. The more aligned your intentions are with what might happens, the better placed you are to get the results you want. For most of our ancestors, this being in tune with everything else will have been a key survival skill. We could just as well call it science as magic, because the careful observation of available data is very much part of it.

Being more connected to the natural world is an act of magic that changes us. Seeking it is tantamount to casting a spell on yourself, to alter your perceptions, values and aspirations. To be aligned with the natural world is to be out of kilter with capitalism for a start. The more we push this way, the less inclined we will be to use and consume, to waste or damage. Coming into your mammal self will make you more inclined to rest and less inclined to strive in pointless ways.

Feeling connected is itself magical. This is the experience of becoming re-enchanted with the world. It’s about falling in love with life and with the wonder of existence. We throw off our dissatisfaction, our jaded disinterest, our apathy. Connecting brings joy, and grief, hope and despair, and an aliveness in our hearts that isn’t available when we try to cut ourselves off from the world.

Magic can be many things, and the more we open ourselves to it as a possibility, the more scope we have to make changes and bring new energies into existence.