I am under no illusion that a congregation remembers what we talk about, once a service is over. However, what follows is my memory of two services held in our church, in mid-January, in 2002 and again in 2003.
Our Minister, Andrew, invited dancers to take over the church space during the service: we formed the chairs into a rectangle around the edge. This was a troupe of Molly Dancers (both men and women), and the service was for Plough Sunday: A celebration in movement and music, of the necessity of tilling the hard ground.
The sight and movement of the dancers was memorable: the vibrant colours of the dancers’ face paint made a lasting impression on me: green, deep blue, reds, and I wanted to join in the dancing! I pay tribute to those occasions, because I was shown that, beyond all attempts to share verbally, there are some images, symbols, icons which are highly potent, their effect too deep for words.
I reckon some of you are more savvy than I, about folk-lore and ancient customs, so let me share with you a couple of pointers which changed my understanding, leading to a deeper engagement with the unconscious, via the numinous, the hidden wisdom of dream. If you had to relate the most unexpected and deep dreams that you ever had, what would they be?
In a moment, I’ll tell you a couple of my dreams from long ago, but which had a deep impact. The mood, tone, detail of most dreams tends to evaporate quickly upon waking, just as we note during our mindful meditation: our thoughts move, and dissolve. Some dreams arise from beyond the ordinary, carrying a momentum which is never lost. They can be described as numinous.
I looked up the word ‘numinous’: One source said it means ‘concerned with the spirit rather than the body or material things.’ And my dictionary says, ‘suffused with a feeling of divinity’. I have an association also with ‘archetype’: these are images and concepts which humanity has in common, proceeding from our deeper subconscious. An archetype is a highly potent trigger leading to moments of revelation – and also to feelings of awe!
So – in the first of these deep dreams, I was on the coast of Cornwall, in a watery cave under rocky cliffs, in half-dark. It was one of those moments where you are in the sea but not apparently wet, indicating a non-literal meaning. From out of the darkness, something flew over my right shoulder, shining. ‘Excalibur’ was my response. This short sword or settled for a brief moment on the surface of the water, and I grabbed to hold it. A feeling of shock touched my palm and entered me. Quickly, the dagger-thing toppled under the water. I stared at the point where it had vanished, sensing that whenever in my life I needed power or knowledge, I would recall where to look. I had been afforded a reference point for deeper insight.
Astonishing moments have a purpose – those moments of understanding from so deep are there to help our everyday existence. The everyday in this case was that only a day or so after the dream, I was invited into next-door’s house, the only time I ever went in there. On the coffee-table was a postcard showing the South-West of England, with the contours of Cornwall. There were the usual dots showing famous places – Tintagel, Arthur’s supposed castle, etc. The result of that synchronicity was to take a family holiday to Cornwall that summer, where the realities of Tintagel the town turned out to be a lingering smell of fish and chips, and sticky coca-cola spillages along the pavements! There is a theory that the name Tintagel is a derivation of old French, Tente d’Angels. The tent or canopy of angels.
The dream was better than the location itself – but then, the dream is a different sort of reality, going beyond the expected, to layers of intelligence and insight which arise unbidden – but only when we are ready. Prior to the dream I didn’t know anything about Arthur, Camelot, the sword in the stone etc., nor about the sword Excalibur being raised by a hand from the lake. To me, the phrase ‘the lady of the lake’ referred to a novel, but that’s all. It was an area of me that had been asleep, but apparently needed awakening.
Among the paperwork for the York Unitarians service, from which I’ve drawn and modified this talk, I had printed off someone’s account or life-story of Arthur. As the writer of the article has said as summary: “No-one knows where this information about Arthur’s family originally came from. It may have been remembered by the bards or written down in books which no longer exist, or someone may have made a guess.”
And so, what about the other dream – well, that is briefer in the telling, but it has had as great an impact as the first dream. As I slept, the voice of a man whom I happen to respect as much as anyone in the world, told me simply ‘the legend of the Green Man is TRUE!’ My! How alive I felt – it felt like my first contact with a particular archetype or being – whose name I knew, but finally I had trusted and claimed as a friend: Green Jack, or Jack in the Green – known under many other names too, in many civilisations. He is an observer of all, embedded in nature, hidden yet known, seen but mysterious – guiding, reminding, revealing, giving and embracing. Some might say ‘God by any other name’.
Likewise, the myth of King Arthur is as powerful a symbol. Though we don’t expect to prove his physical existence – yet we might – a story of a renowned leader, his defence of the land and the people, means that our inner image of him evolved into an icon or symbol: from knotted strands of history and legend are forged a myth of great strength and potency.
Whether or not you are a new attender here, please note that instead of a Round Table, we place our chairs in a way that we can see and converse after the talk, while still being able to see the speaker. It’s a little more democratic than pews where people sit behind each other: a little more equality.
Some years after the Cornwall trip, I set to music song lyrics by Jehanne Mehta. The song is called Brave Arthur the King. The man who passed to me the words had forgotten the original tune, and there was no name attached to the page of lyrics. Fully twenty years later, I learnt her name and contacted her. Very generously, she allowed me to continue to use my music rather than her original setting. And I have done so, though I also ordered the old cassette on which her music is recorded! In the song, Jehanne sees Arthur as a leader of dance, song, story, of all that makes us strong together.
And so, we return to our Molly dancers, who danced in the church over 20 years ago on Plough Sunday. Faces masked by paint: green, blue, red. Some things are hidden and yet potent. Myth and legend are powerful – hidden yet alive – peering at us in unexpected moments of dream, like Excalibur – and the Green Man!