Consumer Brainwashing and Christmas

Any holiday that is celebrated in the home acquires its own traditions through the years. There are many such traditions connected to Christmas and many memory associations from childhood as well as other significant points in our lives.

Marketing, alas, plays a rather large part in the sights, sounds and even smells of the Yuletide season. If one pays attention to details, one can see that ornaments and other decorations used to trim a Tree as well as decorate a home change from year to year and decade to decade. Items considered essential suddenly may vanish from the marketplace and a tradition thereby is broken forever.

The silver icicles that once graced almost every Tree now have disappeared from the shelves of every market. I suspect this was due to environmental concerns, but I do miss them. Trimming a tree with icicles was quite an art, and I can recall how my mother instructed me in the right way and the wrong way to use them. One had to take only three or four at a time, make certain each was quite straight, then place each strand carefully on a branch of the Tree to hang perfectly.

Rather to my horror, when I trimmed a tree with another family one year, I saw that they simply THREW handfuls of icicles at the Tree! Mixed with the horror was more than a little envy though, at the fun they were having. Trimming the Tree in our house was an art and an almost sacred trust. One had little or no freedom where certain basic rules were concerned. The smallest ornaments were placed on the top branches and the largest on the bottom branches. As a young child, I saw all the efforts I had made to place a few ornaments on the Tree corrected by an adult, usually my mother, who carefully removed and repositioned each. (Sad to say, I was told by some one recently that it is not fun to trim a Tree with me. 'Nothing I do is right!' the individual protested. 'You always change it afterwards anyway.' What can I say? I was schooled well... but trimming a Tree OUGHT to be fun! Perhaps I need some re-schooling in this tradition.)

Whatever the method by which the icicles were added to the Tree, they apparently no longer exist at all. They were very pretty, as light as feathers, making them flutter with the slightest breeze, reflecting the lights of the Tree. When the icicles were added, the entire Tree appeared to shimmer with light. I loved the magic of that. Still, they probably were a nasty element in terms of Nature's ability to process them once discarded.

Fairy lights have changed over the years but still are fundamental. Where once they were large bulbs of the same size as nightlights, they now are tiny little points of light. This year, however, I saw some 'new' larger bulbs that resembled those used by my grandmother on sale at the market, being advertised as 'environmentally' more sound than the little ones.

Each year, there is something different on the market. Delightful tiny red birds decorated with real feathers were being sold everywhere a few years ago, but cannot be found now. During the same period, tiny red apples were sold and like the birds, now have vanished from the shelves. Blown-glass ornaments in every conceivable shape and form, dismissed as 'old-fashioned' by my mother's generation, now have become popular again.

Even the Fairy at the top of the Tree changes shape and design. There was a time when the Fairy was replaced on the market by a 'star'. I am not certain what is most fashionable now. The Fairy who presides over the Christmas Tree is one ornament that remains constant in my home.

In any case, the purpose of this post is not to muse over the fickle fortunes of Tree ornaments but to confess how completely I myself was brainwashed by the market.

When I had my own first Christmas Tree, I bought a 'stand' from a local shop for it. The stand basically had pins that would hold the Tree in place. One tightened the pins against the trunk of the tree.

It was a very large Tree and one afternoon, I was startled by the sound of breaking glass. The Tree had fallen, and many of the exquisite porcelain ornaments on it had broken. In my excitement at having my first BIG tree, I had spared no expense, buying ornaments that I hoped would become part of my own Christmas tradition. (Some of those ornaments still are in my possession, but they now are held together by glue.)

I vowed never to use THAT stand again. When I asked 'experts' what they would recommend, I was advised to purchase a stand that consisted of a strong metal spike. Bore a hole into the trunk, insert the spike and it would be far stronger than the pin method...

All very well and good as long as the person from whom the Tree was purchased remembered to bore a hole into the trunk.

This year, I arrived home with my fairly modest tree only to discover that no hole had been created in the trunk. I tried the DIY method, using a combat knife to whittle a hole into the centre of the trunk. It was extremely exhausting and after an hour or so, the hole remained far too shallow to be of any practical use.

The tree would not stand by itself. Even when I cut a hole in a box and wrapped blankets round the trunk inside the box, it only stood after a fashion and looked horrible.

If any one reads this, he/she probably would think me an absolute idiot not to have realised that a very simple, old-fashioned solution existed. In fact, not only did I fail to think of the solution but at least a dozen people who witnessed my predicament likewise did not think of it either.

What that means is that we have been so brainwashed by marketing that some of us cannot function if a ready-made solution is not offered in the marketplace!

The old ways usually are the best but a friend who is hundreds of miles away was the only one to suggest it to me. Take two boards, nail them together in a cross, then nail the Tree to the cross! Aside from the apt symbolism, it is the strongest base a Christmas Tree could have.

Fortunately, there were some boards in the garden. Although plastered together by ice, I was able to work two of them free and they now form the base of the little Christmas Tree which STANDS at last!

It is humiliating to realise that I, who spend so much time uncovering secrets in video games for my strategy guides, did not think of the obvious solution to my Yule Tree crisis. Furthermore, I pride myself on being an individualist who cares more about my own instincts than the current market fashions. Nonetheless, I had been brainwashed into belief that only a 'professional' stand could be used in this situation.

I had a little Epiphany of sorts as I nailed the Tree to the Cross. It was very satisfying emotionally and spiritually to MAKE my own stand and to interact with the Tree, covering my hands with sap and dirt, partaking in the ancient sacrifice that represents the sacrifice of the God and the promise of rebirth. The Tree that is cut and adorned with the 'fruits' of life is an integral part of the ritual of rebirth that occurs on Christmas Eve. Yes, it is ancient and pagan, blessedly pagan. It is the Tree of Attis, of Osiris, of Dionysus, but it is the Tree of the Christ as well. It is the old Asherah pole. (I believe as well that it is a symbol of the same ancient rite that is represented by the 'Alam of Abbas.) We recognise the Sacrifice and in doing so, partake in it both as the one who wields the blade and the one who is cut down. In this context, it is interesting to note that the old Northern rune Gebo is in the form of a Cross, and represents the 'Gift' both in terms of the one who make the Sacrifice and the one who IS the Sacrifice.

Those who purchase artificial Trees complete with decorations have a more difficult time connecting with the essential mystery of the season. It is not impossible. After all, a symbol is empowered by the significance attached to it. Even so, the scent of pine needles, the sticky sap that is so difficult to remove from the hands and the roughness of the bark is all part of the experience of the Sacrifice. The Evergreen that retains its life through snow and ice is cut down in its prime, then honoured by being trimmed with lights and ornaments that represent all the things in life that we hold dear. Ironically, this particular Tree was one of the smaller ones I ever chose, intending to do less trimming than usual because of physical problems. And yet, I have accomplished something very physical with boards and nail, and the price I paid in terms of physical pain afterwards was worth it. I have participated in the Sacrifice personally, and my own paltry suffering is nothing compared to the God who dies in order to be reborn to renew the life of the Earth. My Christmas Tree is, by virtue of the mystery it represents, a glorious little Tree.

O Christmas Tree, O Christmas Tree...

In the Western world, the Christmas Tree is almost as central to Yuletide celebrations as the birth of the Divine Child and the appearance of Father Christmas. For me, it could not BE Christmas without a Tree. One year, when I was very poor, the best I could do was to find an evergreen branch to decorate. Another year, on Christmas Eve, a lot was giving away the trees that had not sold and I dragged one home almost literally at the eleventh hour.

This year, I realised I neither could carry nor decorate a tree of any magnitude and severe ice storms made it impossible for me to make a visit to the nursery early. It was on Thursday that I finally was able to go to the nursery for the tree. Few remained. Certainly my vision of a live tree was crushed by reality. All the live trees apart from those that remained firmly rooted in the ground had been sold. Early cold weather had ensured safety until Spring for those that remained in the ground. All that remained were a few cut evergreens and none of those represented the perfect image found on greeting cards. The tree I brought home was more than slightly imperfect, with a rather large hole in one side where no branches had grown. Furthermore, the man at the nursery had carved too large of a hole in the bottom of the trunk and the tree listed dangerously to one side after I set it in the stand. A long struggle to pack the hole sufficiently to enable the tree to stand proudly upright ensued.

I then realised I had no lights, having chucked out my tree lights last January after taking down the Tree. They had lasted quite a few years, but had become completely unreliable. No longer are lights made to withstand the assault of time, or to allow easy replacement of a single bulb.

Another day's delay in the trimming of the Tree as I had to go to a local shop for fairy lights. Now, two days before Christmas, the Tree has been trimmed with lights and a small number of decorations. The Christmas Fairy or Guardian Angel was the first to take her place at the top of the Tree as always. As this is rather a small Tree, she almost dwarfs it, but it would be unthinkable to replace her with a lesser being or any inanimate object.

My struggles with the Tree certainly do not deserve a post, but perhaps my thoughts while trimming it do. One of my first thoughts was to transform the imperfection of the Tree from a negative aspect to a positive one. Upon reflection, there may be two reasons to praise the imperfection of a Christmas Tree.

Nature's Trees are not symmetrical as a rule. Branches grow towards the light, and left to their own devices in the wilds, trees will have trunks and branches that are bent and irregular. What is a Christmas Tree after all but a symbol of Nature that is brought into the house, welcomed and revered for its Natural qualities? The scent of the sap and needles is evocative of the season. The promise of eternal life is conveyed by the Evergreen quality of the Yule Tree. An artificial tree, like a statue of a god, is nothing more than a symbol or substitute of the reality. I cannot comprehend how any one can be satisfied by an artificial tree IF real ones are available. In regions of the world where evergreen trees cannot be found, artificial trees make perfect sense, but everywhere else, a real evergreen has power that no artificial tree, however beautiful ever could hope to embody.

For those who think that the act of cutting a live tree in order to bring it into the house for the season is a waste of a living organism, I would respond that it is a Sacrifice and thus has great meaning and potency. The Tree stands in the place of the Sacrificed God, a promise that Death is the portal to rebirth. If the Tree did not die, life could not be reborn.

The Winter Solstice always has been a time of contemplation of death and hope that the darkness of Winter will bring the world to Light in the Spring. The death of the Evergreen and the rituals that surround the Christmas Tree are potent for Christians and non-Christians alike. For the Christian, the Tree represents the Cross upon which the Christ will be nailed on Good Friday. For the non-Christian, the Tree itself is the ultimate Sacrifice and represents the World Tree, from which all Life depends. Nuts and berries originally would have been placed on the Tree as symbols of the bounty of life. Coloured glass balls replaced them for the most part, and yet the symbolism is the same.

As usual, I have wandered from the point, which was to find a positive meaning in the imperfection of my Tree. The first was to be reminded that Nature does not conform always to human ideas of perfection but must be respected in all her natural glory. The second was something I noticed today, while hanging ornaments in the gaps between the branches to attempt to balance the appearance of the Tree. I realised suddenly that the imperfection of the Tree gave me more opportunity to display the ornaments. A Tree with thick, balanced branches would not require any decoration, but my Tree did!

As I unpacked the glass ornaments this year, I realised that glass in its fragility and delicacy is a very appropriate material for Yule tree ornaments. That which is fragile must be protected and special care must be taken to preserve it from year to year. In some way, it is apt because life itself is fragile and delicate. Happiness too is fragile...

There are those who purchase new decorations each year for their trees and decorate the Tree with a 'theme' that changes from year to year. In our family, however, as in many homes, the Tree represents the history of the family. Each ornament tells a story and represents either a specific moment or the giver. Some are more beautiful than others. Some better exemplify my own taste but each is valuable and each decoration belongs on the Tree.

On my Tree, I hang a few particularly lovely gift tags that accompanied gifts through the years, usually from my parents. The old-fashioned German paper and heavy cardboard tags with their gilt edges to me are some of the most glorious Christmas images and it seemed appropriate to add them to the Tree decorations. With their handwritten messages, they have special significance and remind me that, wherever I may be, my family's love is with me.

At the same time, I am glad that I have my own Tree and have created my own traditions through the years. As much as I miss my family and would love to spend Christmas with them, I am happy that I was forced by circumstance to develop the strength to create my own home and my own centre of being.

My Christmas Tree now represents a fair part of my adult life, although much is lost perforce when one moves from place to place and continent to continent. Even so, I have a few ornaments that evoke memories from other times and places and people who no longer walk this earth. Loved ones who have died are represented on my Tree. In fact, one prized ornament in the form of an embroidered cloth Unicorn is worth its weight in gold to me. The giver never had money nor security but managed somehow to give me a special decoration for my Tree one year when my own life was fairly difficult. That friend died very young and the unicorn evokes both joy and sorrow now.

Yet, is that not the very symbolism of the Christmas Tree, to recognise that the gift of life is purchased through death?

One year, we had a Tree that reached almost to the ceiling and it was decorated with very valuable porcelain ornaments by Lennox and Waterford. While a child of two was napping, the tree fell to the ground with a resounding crash, shattering more than a few of the ornaments. The child never has forgotten the drama of being awakened by that sound! (Nor did any of the adults.) At the time, she told one of the adults, 'I will make new ornaments for the Tree for you. I will make them from paper so nothing will break the next time the Tree falls.'

The child understood the tragedy inherent in the drama and wanted to 'make it all better' somehow. At the same time, she did not realise that the falling of a Christmas Tree was an unusual event. When she spoke of 'the next time the Tree falls', she was speaking from the vast experience of being two years old. In her own memory, Christmas Trees fell crashing to the floor... (From that year forward, any Tree that tall was tethered with invisible wire to a post if necessary to prevent that drama from occurring ever again.)

Whenever I hang a paper ornament from the Tree, I recall the year the Tree fell. It was this, in fact, that made me realise that glass and porcelain ornaments have special value because of their delicacy. In the same way that favourite memories must be protected and preserved, glass ornaments must be given particular care. Those that survive year after year are endowed with special worth. One marvels in fact to know that a glass ball that looks as though it would shatter at the lightest touch has seen many years of service on the Christmas Tree.

The Christmas Tree is central to Yuletide for me, but the creche is magical as well. My creche is not part of my own family's history but belonged to some one else. About five or six years ago, an old man who lived in the neighbourhood died and his best friend cleared out the house and held a jumble sale of the items his children did not want. All items were sold at the same price, which was minimal.

I was walking home from the market when I came upon the display on tables outside the house. To my surprise and delight, I saw a large, handmade wooden creche on one table. I asked if any figures had been found for it and the man told me that there were some, that he had placed them in a box somewhere and, if I were interested, he would give them to me with the creche. I bought the creche without looking at the contents of the box. It was an extremely hot day in July, as far from thoughts of Christmas as one could be...

At home, I opened the cardboard box and was amazed to find a complete Italian Nativity set dating probably from the 1940s or 1950s. None of the figures was chipped or otherwise damaged. It saddened me for a moment to think that this creche had been part of a family tradition for decades that summarily had been swept away by the man's death. His children had not cared enough to spend any time with his possessions before deciding to consign them all to a jumble sale.

Their loss, however, was my gain. I vowed to treat the creche with the reverence it deserved and to set it out each year not only in a ritual of my own but in continuation no doubt of a long tradition in some one else's family. Oddly enough, it resembled a creche that my family had when I was a child, long replaced by something far more elegant and fashionable...

Christmas, like any other significant festival, does not belong to one person or one family but to every one. Even when we are alone, we can participate in the collective joy of the season. I spent one Christmas alone in London and it was fairly grim in some respects but on Christmas Eve, I was able to attend Midnight Mass at the Brompton Oratory. No King nor Queen could have had a better Christmas Eve celebration than that. Now my memories of Christmas are joined by that magnificent experience... like life itself, joys and sorrows, loss and gain are intermingled. The threads are united and woven into a rich tapestry that is composed of all the memories of the season of Yule.

The Tree of Life and the Cross

(From 'Stations of the Cross' by Carl Zimmerman)
(14th century fresco, 'Allegory of the Cross', Santa Croce, Firenze)


As we approach Good Friday, the day when the Crucifixion of Christ is remembered and often in fact re-enacted in Passion dramas, it occurs to me that there are elements in the modern tale that have resulted from misinterpretations of the original event.

It is true that the Romans used crucifixion as a form of execution for criminals and did not ordinarily crucify nobles. On the other hand, the more ancient use for crucifixion was religious and it was the God himself who first had performed the mystery. To hang upon the Tree, therefore is the noblest of destinies.

Osiris floated in his coffin to Byblos where his coffin became one with an evergreen tree. Attis castrated himself beneath a pine and his followers emulated his sacrifice by hanging themselves on evergreen trees. Dionysus was crucified on the 'vine' or evergreen.

The Tree of Life and Death featured in mythologies as ancient as those of Sumer and it is to be found in the old Christian Bible as well in the Garden of Eden. In Sumerian lore, the original tenants of the Tree were Lilith and a Serpent. The Great Queen Inanna wished to obtain sole possession of the Tree and looked for a champion. Gilgamesh responded and drove the serpent and Lilith 'into the wilderness', then created the Sacred Throne and Sacred Bed for Inanna from the wood of the Tree. When asked to share that bed with her, however, he refused, declaring that he knew full well that with that great honour came death. All her 'spouses' were sacrificed and sent in her place to the Underworld...

The Tree therefore as a 'ladder to Heaven' predated the Roman use of the cross for crucifixion of felons. The Tree is not a degrading instrument of death. It is the ultimate symbol of Life and Rebirth. Christ did not make it so; he simply followed the ancient mysteries and made his own ultimate Sacrifice.

Although he preached humility, the Cross is not part of a rite of degradation. It is the Tree that has its roots in the Underworld, its branches on Earth and its top pierces Heaven itself.

An ancient Christian hymn declares that:
'Crux fidelis,
inter omnes
abor una nobilis;
nulla talem silver profert,
flore, fronde, germine.
Dulce lignum, dulci clavo,
dulce pondus sustinens!

Flecte ramos, arbor alta,
tensa laxa viscera,
et rigor lentescat ille,
quem dedit nativitas,
ut superni membra Regis
miti tendas stipite.

Sola digna tu fuisti
ferre saeculi pretium,
atque portum praeparare
nauta mundo naufrago,
quem sacer cruor perunxit,
fusus Agni corpore.'

In English:

'Faithful Cross!
Above all other,
One and only noble Tree!
None in foliage, none in blossom,
None in fruit thy equals be;
Sweetest wood and sweetest iron!
Sweetest weight is hung on thee!

Lofty tree, bend down thy branches
To embrace thy sacred load;
Oh, relax the natural tension
Of that all too rigid wood;
Gently, gently bear the members
Of thy dying King and God.

Tree, the only one found worthy
The world's Sacrifice to sustain.
Harbour from the raging tempest!
Ark that saved the world again!
Tree, with sacred blood anointed
Of the Lamb who for us was slain.'

I confess that I love the ancient Latin rites and could not resist including some of the verses of 'Pange Lingua' here. It is clear, however, that the Cross was destined to be the instrument of Christ's sacrifice not because the Romans used it as a means of execution, but because it was at the centre of the ancient mystery religions.

The Church of England has a more beautiful rendition of the English form of this Passion poem:

'O faithful Cross, thou peerless tree,
No forest yields the like of thee,
Leaf, flower and bud;
Sweet is the wood and sweet the weight,
And sweet the nails that penetrate
Thee, thou sweet wood.'

It is interesting to note that this hymn includes a reference to the Ark. The Tree as Ship that bears the king or god over the waters is part of the ancient mysteries as well. Osiris is borne in his coffin as ship across the waters. Dionysus is carried over the waters. Annual processions to the sea were part of the old rites of Isis and Osiris, inherited later by the Blessed Virgin. Even now in Venice, I believe there is a ritual wherein a ring is cast into the sea to be retrieved thrice, now dedicated to Mary, formerly to the Great Queen Isis.

The dying plants of Adonis are carried to the sea or river to be tossed into the waters. In contemporary Iran, that ritual still prevails when the sabzeh is thrown into running water at the end of Nawroz. In parts of Eastern Europe, the same ritual can be seen each Spring.

The great hero and god Odhinn hanged himself on the World Tree for nine nights and days, 'myself a Sacrifice to My Self'. In the same way as Christ's side was pierced by a spear, Odhinn pierced his own side with the spear Gungnir as part of the ancient ritual.

The reward of Odhinn was the gift of the Runes, a system of magic that contains all the mysteries of life, death and rebirth. The death of Christ brought eternal life to the world.

The Sacrificed God or King by embracing the Tree becomes one with the Tree. In the rites of Attis, worshippers would slash themselves with sharp knives and splatter the Tree with their blood in order to bring rebirth to the god.

The Tree is central to the Mystery. It is no coincidence that Christ was crucified. It is part of a rite that is ancient and universal.

In many parts of the world, from Northern Europe to Japan, trees themselves were considered to be sacred, to house divine or magical spirits. For the pagans of old Europe, a glade in a forest would constitute the most sacred 'Church' or 'Temple'. Charlemagne destroyed forests in his efforts to force Christianity upon the Germanic tribes.

In ancient Canaan and its environs, the Asherah pole was a symbol of the Great Goddess. This was a perfect tree that was felled, stripped of its branches, then 'replanted' in the temple of the Goddess. In the Christian Old Testament, there are tales of Hebrews who worshipped the Asherah pole, as well as those who worshipped and adored the 'Golden Calf'. (The Golden Calf will be discussed later as a symbol of the Apis Bull.) Many examples of magic and divine healing are recounted there as well, involving a tree with a serpent at its top. The 'Tree of Life and Rebirth' can be found in the Asherah, the Staff, the May Pole and the Cross.

In Northern Europe, every shaman would choose a tree in the forest, fell it, strip it of its branches, then place it once more in the ground. The shaman then would construct a platform at the top of the pole and mount the tree to sit on the platform. Here he or she would be able to travel to other realms, to Hell and back if necessary or to Heaven.

The Tree or Cross is the ancient ladder to Heaven. It, like the King or God, must be 'slain' and then replanted in the earth in order to bring forth the miracle of eternal life.

Roman Catholics wear the Crucifix as a symbol of their devotion to Christ, but many Protestants wear nothing more than the symbol of a Cross. It is the Tree of Life and Rebirth and the ultimate act of power and magic is the sacrifice of the King or God upon it. It is no accident that Christ chose to embrace the Cross. In doing so, he validated one of the most ancient mysteries known to humanity.

When we decorate a Christmas tree, we show honour, love and reverence to the Tree of Life and Rebirth. On Good Friday, when the Tree is slain and taken in procession through the streets with the bleeding Lord of All, it is not only the Lord but the Tree as well to which homage should be given. When the Cross is replanted in the Earth and the God embraces it, his blood revitalises it. Together they symbolise the mystery of Life Immortal.

As declared in the Mystery of Faith in the Mass: 'Dying you destroyed our death, Rising you restored our life.'

The mysteries of Spring include the symbol of the Egg, in which life is reborn, but the Tree and its fruit cannot be ignored, even by those who are not Christians. For Christians, the death of Christ on the Cross is the very centre of religious faith. For others, however, the crucifixion of Christ should be recognised as a sacrifice made in order to sustain the cycle of Life, Death and Rebirth. It is one of the ancient universal mysteries of this season.

The Blue Spruce and Attis

(The Blue Spruce)

In the neighbour's garden, a beautiful magestic Blue Spruce tree spread its branches. Through the years I watched it grow from a small sapling to an incredibly regal tree. It was perfect in shape, glorious in colour. I have to admit that I coveted the tree in the neighbour's garden a little but I was content because I was able to see it from my side of the fence.

Whenever I think of Attis, that glorious representative of the evergreen comes to mind. All evergreens are beautiful and the 'Christmas Tree' has been given a special place in Western society but the Blue Spruce is particularly magical. This Blue Spruce in fact originally was a small live Christmas tree that the elderly couple had purchased, then planted at the end of the Yule season.

The elderly couple sold their house and it changed hands a couple of times as the Blue Spruce continued to grow. For a year, it was abandoned, then tenanted by squatters. Last summer, a man bought the property and began to 'renovate' it.

Banging and the buzzing of machinery has been a common occurrence for months, but a few days ago, I was horrified to see that the latest cacaphony of noise accompanied an act of wanton destruction. The man had hired some one to cut down every tree in his garden.

One moment the Blue Spruce stood tall and proud at the far end of the garden next door. The next moment, it had been felled and cut into pieces.

There was no dedication of the tree to a god, and no mourning or lamentation next door for its death. It was nothing more than another obstacle to be removed.

How could the man not respond to its beauty? How could he fail to appreciate its majesty? What on earth could he put in its place that would justify its destruction?

In legal terms, it is none of my business what the man does with his own property. Even in moral terms, few would argue for the sanctity of a tree. Nonetheless, I feel a sense of great personal loss.

Although the tree was not mine, it long had been a source of inspiration and joy to me. The trees in this area that have survived its slow degredation have remained a haven to birds and squirrels.

The doves, cardinals, finches and even the hawks will miss the trees that have been felled as much as I. The squirrels no doubt will miss them as well.

It is ironic that the Blue Spruce was 'slain' in March, very near the time of the ancient festival of mourning for the death of Attis. To see it on the ground in pieces was very much like viewing the mutilation of a human being. Denuded of its gorgeous shimmering needles, reduced to firewood, it was very difficult for me to look at the remains of that glorious tree without weeping.

The ancients would have acknowledged the natural grief of those who must witness the death of a beautiful and regal living entity. They would have wrapped its limbs carefully and tenderly in white wool, and placed bouquets of violets upon its corpse as memorials. The image of the young god would have been bound to the centre of the trunk, thereby equating tree, god and man.

Afterwards, lamentations would be made, and men would offer their own blood and even their own manhood to the fallen tree. A state of ecstacy would be induced by whirling dance, tumultuous music and the use of sharp knives in lacerating the flesh.

Women would weep and beat their breasts. The god himself had died. What greater catastrophe and source of grief ever could be experienced by humanity than this?

Yet, in the midst of this terrible grief a hope of resurrection was harboured. The grief was unrestrained, and blood and tears flowed freely, but as much as one lamented the loss of the god, one still believed that he would be reborn. In fact, the greater the outpouring of grief, the more hope there would be in the ultimate resurrection.

Those who emulated the god by castrating themselves BECAME one with the god, thereby earning the right of ultimate rebirth.

'On the third day he rose from the dead', the Christian litany proclaims, but the resurrection of Christ is predated by the resurrection of Attis, son and beloved of the Great Mother.

One of the earliest mystery religions was that of the Magna Mater or Great Mother of all living creatures. An ancient centre of her cult was at Pessinus where it was believed that the stone who represented her had fallen from the heavens. The name Pessinus in fact may have been derived from 'pesein' which is the verb 'to fall'.

The stone in question evidently was a meteorite, described by Euripides later as 'a stone not large, which could be carried in a man's hand without pressure -- of a dusky and black colour -- not smooth, but having little corners standing out.' Later, this stone was carried to Rome, set in a silver statue in the place of the face and given a regal home on Palatine Hill. The cult of the Great Mother became extremely popular in Rome afterwards, as it was believed that she had brought victory with her.

Christians derided the worship of 'idols' and wrote polemics against those who revered the Great Mother, choosing to disregard the universal truth beneath the symbols. 'Idols' or symbols of gods do not restrict the power of those gods but simply act as a focus for that power or the devotion of their followers. The 'black stone' of the Great Mother was believed to have special powers, and in fact all meteorites possess special properties and power in metallurgy, but no one believed that the Great Mother existed solely in the form of a small, irregular stone.

Meteorites are alien bodies that arrive dramatically on earth, borne by flame and light and often causing great destruction when they land. In fact, there is a popular scientific theory that the end of the age of dinosaurs was caused by a huge meteorite or meteor.

The ancients understood metals and elemental powers. They found that meteorites could be used to create incredibly powerful and beautiful blades. Damascus steel often includes meteorites in its composition.

The Great Mother was the spirit of great mountains as well as forests. She was the Earth personified. She was Nature in its untamed and untameable aspects. When, in one myth, Zeus became infatuated with her and sought to rape her, he was unable to penetrate the stone of the mountain where she was hidden and his seed fell on unyielding rock. Nonetheless, she conceived and bore a child who combined the essence both of male and female.

The myth of Attis is a complicated generational tale, and involves a number of 'immaculate conceptions'. From the blood of the hermaphrodite child of the Great Goddess when castrated, a pomegranate tree sprang forth. A maiden who took a pomegranite to her breast thus was impregnated and bore the child Attis. In some versions of the myth, there is another generation of being before Attis, created when the spilt blood of the god became an almond tree.

Attis therefore did not issue directly from the womb of the Great Mother. He was a child who was created from tree and maiden, symbol of vegetation. In a hymn of Hippolytus, Attis is addressed as 'the harvested green ear of corn'.

His devotees were forbidden to eat seeds and roots of vegetables, as these held the essence of the god. They were allowed to consume only the stalks and upper parts of plants.

The pine cone is a symbol of Attis as are plants that flower prematurely in the Spring before the threat of winter altogether has been vanquished. It is for this reason that women grew plants in small dishes for Adonis and Attis and even now in modern Iran for Nawroz. These brave portents of life then would be thrown into running water, and the god would be mourned.

In the midst of death, life is born. I must remember this when I look at the barren square of ground where the Blue Spruce stood.

Loss is an intrinsic part of the human experience. There are those who embrace philosophies that warn against attachments to 'the things of this earth' but the philosophy of Attis did not subscribe to this attitude. Indeed, great attachment to the beloved and profound mourning were part of the magic that facilitated ultimate rebirth.

In similar fashion, that which is enshrined in our memories lives forever. If one is indifferent, memory becomes indifferent as well. It is only when we immortalise something in our memories that it continues to exist long after it has vanished from this sphere.

I believe this is one of the fundamental principles of 'ancestor worship' actually. It is a psychic scrapbook for those who have died. It is a means by which the past is remembered and even elevated to another level. The epic poems of the ancients were another means by which the transient achieved permanence.

By not allowing the felling of the Blue Spruce to pass unnoticed, I create a small memorial to its beauty. Even so, my heart will grieve a little for a long time and I will feel pain every time I look at the place where that beautiful tree stood.