Castaneda had a
notion of another world of perception that is hidden by the “factual” one. This
hidden world could be the naïve one of physical proportion.
.. as I
looked about I saw there was a wonderful well just under the high, steep wall
of grass. All the ground round it was covered with bright, green, dripping
moss; there was every kind of moss there, moss like beautiful green ferns, and
like palms and fir trees, and it was all green as jewellery, and drops of water
hung on it like diamonds. And in the middle was the great well, deep and
shining and beautiful, so clear that it looked as if I could touch the red sand
at the bottom, but it was far below. (The
Great God Pan, page 135)
This universe is
defined by irregular flow, of water or lines. What you could say is all the
lichen and moss you see has scripted routine (of DNA), which is one side of
reality. The other is flow, and taken together they express their identity in
the world.
Without
expression (as Bruce Lee says) there is no independent identity. No free,
naturalistic creativity with a sense of cosmic destiny. The naïve world, you
could say, is one of destiny, of figures in a landscape, of figures in the sky.
Because it is
naïve it also is not the universe of perspective accuracy. That’s not to say
there is no perspective. BWS’s “The Enchantment” has perspective but not to an
overriding degree.
The sweeping
curve of the turf and deep waters make quite a weird space, embroidered with
blossoms and grasses, even if there is more than a hint of perspective in the
flagstones and jetty.
The naïve world
is actually full of weird spaces, shifting and twisting animate/inanimate
shapes. If this is the expressive world of cosmic destiny (of the cowboy and
Indian!) it has a flow that is not to be seen in the straightline mainstream.
The vast
perspective illusion hides the real world of naïve proportion, that I think is
represented in their various ways by Madame Blavatsky, Arthur Machen, Talbot
Mundy, Francis Stevens, Howard and the ethos of Weird Tales .. and
Castaneda?
I quoted David Silverman
Field
research.. views the culture through a lens.
A lens, though, is also a type of perspective illusion that lets us see
an invisible world (Hyborian Bridge 56) There’s nothing wrong with using
perspective, as I’ve repeatedly said; it’s only when the world BECOMES
perspective that the illusion dominates reality.
You know the quote from Machen’s The White People
..I
could see that all the different shapes of the earth were arranged in patterns,
something like the grey rocks, only the pattern was different. It was getting
late, and the air was indistinct, but it looked from where I was standing
something like two great figures of people lying on the grass. (page 138)
The sense one gets is that the strong human shapes are far from crystal
clear; there is a vagueness that’s very atmospheric. Where does the vagueness
come from? From the interweaving shapes, inanimate ground and animate nature
Machrie, Arran
The suggestion of things that might be there is a peculiarity of the
flow of line that merges and emerges in the dense tangle of the long, low
shadows. It’s not to say either they’re there or they’re not, but the very
suggestion is magic. Machen’s images seem to recur in the Narnia chronicles of
CS Lewis in the 60s.
A world where not everything is crystal clear, and there is a
vagueness, sounds much like the hidden world that is part of the Castaneda
mythos. After all, things are only crystal clear in a perspective vision. In
terms of shape and pattern things are often suggestive.
Now, in the scientific world of lenses (microscopes and telescopes)
this suggestive world doesn’t exist. Nevertheless, in a human body – or in any
physique – the jumble of shapes is suggestive of hills and valleys and that
type of thing.
So, perspective illusion creates very definite shapes (ie biochemical
molecules) but not the subtle hollows and highs of a physique. It’s the very
precision of science that is false, and of course very convincing!
What is the undulating vagueness? It’s the flow of line that can’t be
precisely measured. Even if precise shapes exist, so does flow and the two
together create the expression of a physique, of a place (of magic).
In other words, the very persuasive precision of science is incorrect!
Without the flow, the primeval rhythm, there can be no expression, only what
“they” call information. It’s the same as saying that we, as homo sapiens, are
identical to robots, an artificial, cyborg lifeform.
The way “they” get away with this is by being ultra-precise. But the
very precision is robotic. Not only that but incorrect. In order to have
precision one must also have imprecision – the atmosphere, the state of being.
The Big Pretence Titian was painting the very same hollows and highs
of a magical wood as was Machen describing. A description can be precise if the
thing being described is imprecise, and that is poetry. An all-precise world
couldn’t be described poetically; it would be a living death.
It’s like Nietzsche says, “Without music, life would be a mistake” (Pictorial
27). It’s incorrect to be living in a robotic situation, unless literally
forced by circumstances (like, say, Michael Schumacher).
Compare this photo of the Erechtheion (Athens) to BWS’s “The
Enchantment”
What you see beyond a Greek temple is the other side of reality to
monumental idealism. The filigree foliage that is like enlarged lichen. A Greek
temple is proportionate order, whereas the surroundings are proportionate
disorder. Disorder is the cycle of life that rises and falls, like the sweep of
the turf. The theme of “The Enchantment” is the doppelganger on the other
shore; the reality that all must face.
To the Greeks, their monuments were appearance, not reality. What you
could call a magnificent illusion or, as Howard might have put it, the
monuments of Man fade with his conquests.
But a Greek ruin is also a sign of heroic revival. An illusion can only
revive in the grand sweep of conquest by nature herself! The Greeks did not
live an illusion; they lived for the everlasting revival of nature that is the
Dionysia, the theatrical festivities dedicated to the gay god of rustic pursuits.
This world is what you could call the ever shifting, undulating lines
of leaves that fall off boughs that soar over hills and stones and moss soft
and uneven. The world of disorder that is simply the other side of reality to a
Greek temple. The world that existed throughout the Middle Ages and that is
easy to identify in Howard’s fantasy descriptions.
