Time and Seasons

Almost nine months have passed here, and Boo has kept her word to continue to inspire. Still working and teaching, she will, nevertheless be returning home this fall. She has students who adore her. One young girl, in particular,recognizes a kindred spirit in the mare's soul. They spent days this summer in each other's company, bareback, saddled, haltered and bridled, wandering over the farm, free and completely in the moment with each other. Boo finds these people to share her journey, taking them on her broad back to worlds of possibility and dreams, and I hate to bring her home to a quiet life here. I am hoping her new friends will visit her, perhaps ride her. She will miss her herd and particularly her best friend, Blue, who is moving out of state.

But, Boo has taken me away from musts and shoulds to wills and yesses. She has never gotten ahead of me and waits, her eyes huge and open, ready for her doddering old mother. We've trail ridden, jumped, ridden out in the field, played, and been happy...at least, I've been happy!

We are looking for a young girl like Libby, who will join in Boo's adventures and tell her secrets and braid her forelock and tail. I so long to be that young girl for Boo.

Perhaps she will be my path to renewal and joy, seeing past my wrinkles and regrets to a soul wanting to break free.

The First Stream's Trail...

Why did this quest begin? The simple and most obvious answer is curiousity. It then becomes more complicated, as the current political and economic situation afflicting the USA precipitated a search for personal answers. While taking the uniqueness of our represesntative republic for granted, I had never delved into the reasons our nation held 'special' status. Lip service paid to 'freedom', 'equality', ' individualism', such an easy, glib dogma, but what did this actually mean? Was the threatened 'fundamental transformation' something that was inevitable? Or was there a depth of truth which was being attacked?

Our founders were presented as important, heroic individuals in my 1950s history lessons. We read and discussed the Constitution, the three components of the government, checks and balances. We were fortunate: students now are not so priviledged. An early visit to Jefferson's Monticello left me fascinated by both the man and his way of life.I recognized, even at 8 or 9, Jefferson's incredible intellectual gift, his sense of the world in which he lived and his rationalism. Benjamin Franklin, the funny rotund-like fellow with a bald head and scraggly white hair was another of the giants in my imagination. He, too, a man of ideas, creativity and profound intellectualism injected a touch of humor into his vast range of accomplishments. Never could figure out why he was such a ladies' man, though. My father had declared an ancestral link to Franklin, albeit indirect, and my recent research confirmed this. His mother was the sister of my direct ancestors, both being daughters of Peter Folger of Nantucket fame. That was good enough for me!

So what was it about this group of men that was able to provide us with this system of government? They were so much more as individuals than anyone around today, perhaps because their particularly critical time in history demanded the best they had to offer, and, most importantly, their faith in something bigger than themselves, in a Law, immutable and universal. God, the Creator, natural law, universal law - all names to describe the same thing, essentially that which we cannot understand in its complexity and scope, but which functions according to principles and patterns which include All. While humanity is unable to fathom all facets, it does, however, hold within the seeds of this Truth and interconnectedness. We are aware of ourselves as individual, separate entities able to create and discover greatness both physically and spiritually, knowing and feeling at the same time, part of the whole, contributing what we can to the whole of Creation. There is not one path to this understanding, and the Founders knew this. They welcomed seekers, and doers as well as those content to raise families, or simply farm their land, do their routine jobs, or explore the huge expanse of this land. That groups became vilified for their beliefs or race or national origin was the result of human frailty and error, not the basic Law or Creator. We are imperfect; we are to blame for what does not work, not this Nation founded on Truth and Principle. We cannot interpret the Law based on what we want at the moment. It is what it is. It does not change, and is the only way to ensure the possibility of freedom of thought and belief.

And what is this Law? What are these principles which guide us who are willing to follow? Every major belief system, or religion, seems to seek the same answers. A belonging, finding one's place within a structure which encourages upward striving, enlightenment, one's spiritual best. Unless there are Truths to strive for, such an endeavor would seem to be pointless and random. But the institiutional entity known as Religion can hide and manipulate the Truths to suit its agenda. Truths remain, but adherents perhaps lose their ability to find enlightenment within shallowly imposed limitations.

America was founded to allow each citizen to search for her/his own personal best. It was not guaranteed. One's goals are personal, not governmental. If I choose to be supported by my community, I can do so, but I lose MY ability to be free as long as I remain there. If you choose to invent a device that will make life easier and safer for millions of people, you have the freedom to make money which contributes to the economy and you also have the capacity to give what you have earned to those less fortunate. It is your choice.

Only in America.

Following Sunbeams

Like the view from the Great Wall above (wherin myriad ghosts dwell), the light broke hazily into the darkness and led upwards.

What was I to expect when the ancient king Irial Faidh appeared to have married Tamar Telphi, a princess of Judah? And who was she? Trace her patrilinear branch back and names from the Old Testament popped up - Hezekiah,Jotham, Jehoshaphat, Solomon, David, Jesse.>.>Isaac, Abraham Shem, Noah,...Seth, Adam. The legend goes that Tamar and her family fled a conquest of Jerusalem , settling in Eire. OK, it sounds plausible but I wonder if, other than legend, there would be any way to verify this.Of course not. Events occurring in BC era are a bit removed from 21st century America.

Desperate for information and a greater understanding of the dynamics of these times, I turned to the works of Sir Laurence Gardner. I had read his Bloodline of the Holy Grail many years ago in conjunction with the reading of Baigent, etc's Holy Blood, Holy Grail. The premise of these works was essentially a search for the historical Jesus, removed from the image promoted by institutional dogma. Even though I had minored in New Testament studies at college, I knew very little about the scholarly efforts to flesh out the man known as Jesus. Raised in the Episcopalian tradition, I rarely questioned the faith of my fathers. Wondering about the mysteries of the virgin birth and the resurrection, I would, nevertheless dutifully recite the Creed, thinking this is what we believed, quashing any rebellious thoughts which rose to the surface of an overactive imagination. The music held the mystery for me, the glorious old Anglican hymns which rose in incredible harmonies, taking my soul with them. All were likely to bring tears to my eyes: one spoke to me like no other.

Robert Blake's mystical and mysterious Jerusalem, sung in St Mary's Chapel at Chatham Hall, set me forth on my quest. Who did Blake refer to, walking Britian in ancient times? The Holy Lamb of God? Chariots of fire and arrows of desire? These words seemed at once so Anglophilic and unChristian, an anthem for a nation which had a rather important opinion of itself. But no, the depths insisted on the truth as Blake saw it. Did the historical Jesus visit England? The Grail myths, St Patrick, St Columba - Stonehenge, Glastonbury, Chaucer's Canterbury Tales...all pointed to a degree of spirituality beyond church doctrine, and so I began climbing into the tendrils of light reaching out to me.

The challenges arise

When the search began to develop soul-deep questions, I knew I needed to follow the trail as far as it would go. Random clicks led from just a name to a person who could be checked on Wikipedia, biographically and geographically verifiable. Scottish kings, back to the mists of early Ireland, Viking figures who went on to settle Iceland after a short spell on Greenland until the climate reverted to inhospitable. Legendary names - Robert the Bruce, MacBeth, Duncan, Thorstein the Red, whose mother was Aud the Deep-Minded, and St Muredach of Ireland - all conjure images of brutality, high deeds and unconquerable spirit, mighty warriors, strong women, all forging their territory, loving, marauding, raping and pillaging. The current atmosphere of politically correct historic revisionism would certainly have much to criticize of these folk and they way they lived their lives. Indeed, are these times even addressed anymore in academic circles? What would a professor say of these scots, picts and 'celts'? That they were a prime example of the unevolved human, uncivilized and right wing, not caring for the downtrodden and seeking only their own power? Or perhaps evil, devilish, insensitive?

I'd rather think of them as those given responsibility of leadership who either provided it or didn't. Success and failure are not discriminatory. That the kings were prepared for their roles is certain, as these lines were not determined by primogenature, but chosen by the 'nobles' among whom were found the successors. An odd way to choose, perhaps, but built on a system of meritocracy and qualification. Would the cream rise to the top? One would think so when one realizes the welfare and safety of the various populations depended on strong leadership and wisdom. It is these qualities which first raised the challenges, as I fell into a deep hole at this point which caused a gradual re-ordering of my assumptions.

The ancient kings of Eire led the way, and we weren't supposed to have any Irish blood.

How far?

What would compel one to search through vast lists of names, begots and begotten, endlessly, dozing as the evening drifts off toward serious night? Does it simply satisfy a quest for recognizable names of history or is it a more profound urge to make connections with others, a meeting place of like minded souls not bound by time? Is this why time becomes irrelevant as the hours pass or as the clicks take one thousand steps back? forward? towards? One thousand clicks and you might have reached a name you've heard - if there are that number of clicks in the first place.

As one late fall evening when I clicked on the name Starret while tracing mother's family connections of 150-200 years ago in New England. MacLanes, Buells, Langdells,... Starret. What kind of name was Starret? It brought images of highrise grey apartment buildings growing up out of the flats approaching the Whitestone Bridge. MacLanes, well, my middle name, inexorably Scots, tracing to the Lochbuie Clan on the isle of Mull. Not much more than that until Malcom and Hector settled in New Hampshire. Mumbles they were younger sons of the laird, John and his wife, Molly Beaton. Whoever they were!(Later, come to find, boys and mother were born at Leer Castle, not much else being available). Buell and Langdell, New Hampshire-ites; likewise Starrets.

The decisive click became a yellow brick road, leading me on and on, and the Starrets didn't seem so mysterious, at least on a certain level. History and time unfolded in stories of battles, alliances, from all the political intrigue of Europe back to places seeming unreal, fantastical, as perhaps they are. I chose early on, however, to follow what I could, to read all I could in a dogged, compulsive desire to form a picture of the possibilities. I have been left, at times, feeling that dry history is enough, but this is a compelling, joyous trip I'm on.

Those courses in European history never taken in college? Guess they couldn't be avoided forever.

A Funny Thing Happened

Eleven generations separate my sisters and me from the Mayflower passengers. Only eleven, and they didn't seem so long dead to me anymore. Reading their birth, marriage and death dates forced me to visualize actual people as they lived their lives. Reading of their community, its hardships, its triumphs, of the children and following them through their histories and generations to the present.

An ancient lichen covered slab of slate engraved with the name of a man who died in 1791, the bones of a British warship sunk in 1770s being exposed by the onshore winds and tides..these things are old. Looking at the letters and numbers inscribed thereon, I feel a connection with the anonymous craftsmen just doing their jobs. Imagine. Imagine. My fingers tingle with recognition. My feet and eyes marvel at the sights and touches of the past. To walk in footsteps of builders of Chartres or an isolated hill fort in the Magillicudy Reeks in Ireland - these people wakl with me. I watch DaVinci as he places a stroke of pigment on the Mona Lisa in the Louvre. And there were ghosts at Gettysburg winding their souls about us, reminding us never to forget.

They come alive if given the chance. They speak, smell, laugh, love and cry. Some become dour and stolid as they age - they were children when younger. I never forget that. Quadequinna's daughter married an English immigrant in Cape Cod. How did the two cultures react? Anne Hutchinson followed her own beliefs and refused to let the Covenanters in Boston break her spirit. Banished, she moved to Rhode Island, then to the Hudson valley north of New Amsterdam. There, one would hope, she found a period of peace before she and most of her family were slaughtered by an Indian war party. She appears to me as a tall, grey woman surrounded by light and grace.

Ordinary folk, most of them. Real people speaking of their lives through their stories.

Eleven generations seem such a very short period of time, now, for the passage of time means nothing. The ancestors are what they seem now. Real, tragic, powerful, nasty, saintly. So much can be found out about them, even back into the very deep periods of history.

35 million strong, give or take

Those who arrived on the Mayflower in 1620 hold an almost mystical place in the history of this nation. On the one hand seen as heroic and pure of heart and on the other vilified for rigid, cruel morality and the destruction of the indigenious community, the reality remains that the small band was a mix of religious separatists, indentured servants and adventurers, simply people seeking a new life in a vast new land. The Separatists were not the Puritans, but a small community of devout protestants seeking to be left alone by the Anglican Church to worship within their own beliefs. Not far removed from the theology of the state, the Separatists objected however to the glitz and glitter - the 'high church' rituals modeled on those of Rome. No, the Pilgrims were escaping an intolerant climate, seeking a simpler expression of faith.

Who then were the Puritans? They were anti-Royalists, followers of the strict and brutal Oliver Cromwell. Simplistically, they sought to bring these values of intolerance to the New England colony. Emmissaries of the new regime of the homeland, as it were, and intolerance was their controlling factor. Anne Hutchinson, certain folk in Salem, Quakers - all felt the scorge of John Winthrop, Cotton Mather and their followers.

Those in Plymouth seem to have remained separate from those settling around Boston. That trade and socializing between the Plymouth and Massachusetts Bay colonies occurred was ineveitable, blurring the lines between two. According to Nathaniel Philbrick's superb Mayflower, however, the first generation of pilgrims strove to fit into their new world. Relations with the Native Americans were largely peaceful and friendly, disintegrating as the years passed by to deceit and treachery and perhaps failure to understand the dynamic of the local native hierarchy.Their society was revealed to be democratic after the first year or so, when citizens realized that a 'communist' - ie, community, system would not be successful. Producing for the whole left citizens dissatisfied and disinclined to produce much of anything.

This small, courageous and committed group of immigrants were the first group I needed to find out about. I wanted to get beyond the myth and see them as people with faults, strengths and a tremenous will to succeed in the unknown. Where did they get this courage and what could I learn from their story about my own identity as an American. Our father identified with his ancestors of the Mayflower, but who were they? One example here, but the stories of all are available.

Stephen Hopkins was not a pilgrim but an adventurer. He had been to the Jamestown colony thirteen years before after being shipwrecked on Bermuda. Accused of mutiny, he pled successfully for his life. The story of the shipwreck has been immortalized in Shakespeare's The Tempest. With the opportunity to return to North America on the Mayflower, Hopkins and his family joined the band. He was an influential member of the colony and the principal liason with Massasoit, Squanto, Quadequina (another ancestor) and the other native leaders.

Richard Warren, Jacob Cooke, Priscilla Mullins, whose entire family died the first winter, John Alden - the list goes on, most familiar to anyone interested in the early history of this country.

In no way does anyone's connection to these intrepid souls make him/her elite. 35 million Americans can trace their lines back to these few. 35 million Americans have within their blood the seeds of freedom, the committment of faith and risk. And many more, lured to this continent for its promise of the dream have the same seeds of freedom within them. This is not a class-based society, but one of opportunity for all. Not an entitled society for the few or for the masses as none has the power to bestow entitlement on anyone. A society based on faith, but not doctrine or dogma. A society of personal responsibility and endeavor for all who choose it as the pilgrims chose three hundred ninety years ago.