Tag Archives: Greece

Getting perspective

I discovered the following graphic on the Australian Native T-Shirts website.

For readers who do not know Australia well, note Hobart is located at the southern end of the island state of Tasmania at the bottom of the country.  Slightly east of Hobart is where the Derwent River flows out into the sea.  The source of the Derwent River is located north west of Hobart roughly in the centre of Tasmania.

Map of Aust with Europe over it.jpg

A comparison map showing Australia and the United States of America is located at the site ‘On Walkabout’.

AustraliavUSA comparison map.jpg

Finally, I found a most amusing map with multiple overlays of Australia across the world.

Australia-over-the-world

Seeing such images certainly helps me to understand the scale of our nations.

The Styx River

In ancient Greece, the Styx was a deity and also a river that formed a boundary between earth and the underworld, and was one which had miraculous powers. In texts such as Dante’s The Divine Comedy, the Styx figures as a metaphor for Hell. I suspect many countries in the world contain a river named the Styx and that for some people, their river connects with Hell or with an earlier characteristic from Greek mythology. There are a number of Styx rivers across Australia.

Tasmania’s Styx river feeds the Derwent when it flows into that River along the edges of the Bushy Park Sports Oval. Our Styx River, a wild one racing through narrow gorges and bristling over rapids in many sections, starts its life in the wilderness near Mount Mueller further west and south of Maydena before travelling past dense ancient forests. I can imagine for our early settlers, the inaccessibility of the river, the rugged surrounding landscape, and the virtual impenetrability of the vegetation would have made this territory seem like hell.  To compound their problems, constant heavy rain falls, cold miserable conditions in winter and fiendishly hot days in summer would have made their lives hell. Yet, over time, the forestry industry found ways near the Styx River to log old-growth forests. Regrettably.

Back to my walk.

20150918_114313

I survived a quick jog over the Styx River road bridge without being mown down by vehicular traffic, and stopped to look at the water rustling beneath.

20150918_114425

I rested nearby to enjoy the sound of the water and the comparatively cool air.

Religious wildernesses

I remember childhood Bible stories referred to the Wilderness. These days I find it interesting to consider most if not all religions link with the concept of the wilderness. Laura Feldt covered this topic in “Wilderness in Mythology and Religion”: ‘Wilderness is one of the most abiding creations in the history of religions.’ Her book ‘addresses the need for cross-cultural anthropological and history of religions analyses by offering in-depth case studies of the use and functions of wilderness spaces in a diverse range of contexts including, but not limited to, ancient Greece, early Christian asceticism, Old Norse religion, the shamanism-Buddhism encounter in Mongolia, contemporary paganism, and wilderness spirituality in the US.’

In her 2014 article ‘Religions need wilderness’, Kathleen Braden wrote “The three monotheistic religions based on a common root – Judaism, Christianity, and Islam – have an expression of nature and wilderness as places that allow perception of God’s sovereignty. … Wilderness is a territory (both on land and sea) where one encounters God, and it is not always an easy geography. For the ancient Israelites, it may be a place of repentance coupled with renewal. When the Israelites leave Egypt and displease God, they must wander in hostile lands before reaching a promised place. Abraham casts the slave woman, Hagar, into the wilderness, but she is saved by God, who renews her spirit and gives her a vision that she will build a great nation. Similarly, in the New Testament, the gospel of Mark begins with John the Baptist proclaiming God in the wilderness, foretelling the Christ who is to come, and calling for, again, repentance. Jesus has his own time in the wilderness being tested and honed for his ministry. For believing Muslims, creation is a gift from God and a sign of God’s grace. Similar to Judaic and Christian traditions, in Islam, nature reflects the dominion of God, not the hubris of human control. For these three monotheistic faiths that began in the Middle East, groups of believers through history have set themselves apart in monastic communities, often seeking out the wild places in self-imposed exile to allow the voice of God to be understood more clearly.

In other religions, nature and the sacred helps bring humanity into a right relationship with creation. Baha’i traditions hold that nature reflects the perfection of God and thus, sacred spaces help create a sense of harmony, transformation, and wholeness. In Hinduism and Jainism, nature reflects the abundance that the earth provides and also reminds us of the wholeness of humanity with all other life forms: there should be no barriers or separation.

Likewise, Buddhism suggests that nothing that exists is in isolation, but the sacred can lead us to understand the interdependence of all living things and help us express compassion for creation. Some sects of Buddhism also have, like the desert Christian communities, an ascetic tradition, adherents who must be removed from the material world. Their spiritual quests may be best realized in wilderness.

Religions or traditions with cultural hearths further east in Asia – Shintoism, Confucianism, Daoism – also have expressions of harmony and continuity with nature, but perhaps more in a cosmological view, although places, such as sacred stands of trees with shrines in Shintoism, may be manifest of the need to have a holy place of contemplation and refreshment.

Finally, Indigenous religious traditions are so varied and numerous that outlining them in a short essay might risk stereotyping these faiths. But in many regions, Indigenous spiritual traditions connect the wild with a worldview that interweaves humanity with nature in an unbroken relationship. Whether the shamanistic traditions of Central Asia, Native American religions of North and South America, pre-Christian European practices, animistic faiths of the African continent, or contemporary paganism, none are devoid of practices and stories related to the human relationship with nature. 

While the sacred does not have to be wilderness, wild places must be sacred. Religion needs wilderness. Whether we call this hunger an expression of God’s sovereignty or evidence of the union of all living things or connection with ancestors and a world of spirits, religion requires the wild – the not-us – to show a crucial interrelationship. The threats to wilderness, therefore, also pose a danger to the heart of humanity’s most treasured faith doctrines.”

As an atheist I don’t believe a God or other deities exist, whatever name is given by any religion. However, I am happy to be playful with one ancient Greek god who came out of retirement to meet me. A recent comment by my sister about the danger of snakes when I walk in the Tasmanian bush (all Tasmanian snakes inject their venom poisonously), reminded me of my meeting with Zeus last year. While walking in the visitor-less grounds of one of his temples located in Dion, northern eastern Greece, he and I surprised each other. Zeus has the ability to transform himself and appear as a snake. There he was basking in the sun near the end of the path I was following. Having welcomed me, he slipped away quickly.  I felt very safe then, as I will do when walking along the Derwent River. Besides, Tasmania’s Mt Olympus overlooks Lake St Clair on its western flank, and we all know Zeus’s home is Mt Olympus, albeit the one in Greece. I suspect Zeus will look out for me in some form, and make sure I reach Lake St Clair.

Despite not believing in a God, I do believe in the personally transformative power of the bush, wilderness, forests, whatever you may call those bunches of trees and natural collections of flora and fauna.

When with friends I have talked about walking, particularly in the bush, as a meditative practice. Sometimes the impact of the bush and its flora and fauna is so great that a well of great happiness is tapped – as evidenced, for example, by my bursting into song as described in an earlier post . At the end of any walk, words such as reinvigorated, revitalised, relaxed, uplifted, satisfied and at peace always come to mind. In addition, the power of the bush allows me to put the rest of life and living into perspective. Nature and its forces are so much stronger and more beautiful than any one of us, and it is a delight to be reminded of this in such profound ways. The rich rare world out there, rather than any religious connection, draws me to our wilderness.

The first piece of travel writing?

Simon Armitage, in his book Walking Home (Faber & Faber 2012), put modern day walking projects into perspective when he looked back into history to find the earliest record of something similar.

He settled on an account written around 700-800 B.C., titled The Odyssey about Odysseus (Ulysses) the King of the island of Ithaca off the west coast of Greece, who took a decade to travel a comparatively short distance back home after fighting the Trojan war in Troy.  This was a sea voyage; not a walking trip. Nevertheless I can understand Armitage’s choice because Homer has been described as ‘the best story teller in the world’ (E.V.Rieu, 1980, Homer The Odyssey, Penguin Books.

Sculpture of Homer

(Above: a marble bust of Homer displayed in the collection of the British Museum. Apparently, this sculpture was carved in the first or second century A.D in Italy.)

Simon Armitage says ‘The Odyssey is one of the greatest works of western literature, and also one of the earliest, a sort of bedrock or foundation on which many subsequent stories are built. In what could also be described as one of the first pieces of travel writing, The Odyssey is presented as a poem, written by Homer, who may or may not have existed, and tells the tale of Odysseus’s exhausting and beleaguered return from battle.’

Through subsequent centuries, Homer’s work inspired others to write both fictional and documentary style travel stories. You can read a translation of his epic at http://classics.mit.edu/Homer/odyssey.html. If you want an entertaining crash course in the story, try viewing:  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MS4jk5kavy4

For a bit of fun for those who learn visually, you can interact with a map of Odysseus’s possible travels at: http://www.classics.upenn.edu/myth/php/homer/index.php?page=odymap

Vistas of water

I am fortunate to live in a part of Hobart with daily views of the Derwent River.  Travelling to and from work in the city, I bus over one of the river’s main bridges the Tasman Bridge. In these ways, I see the wonderful watery play of the moods, colours and water traffic across the Derwent River.

Since many people from around the world now read this blog I am reminded of the watery views near some of those readers. Most recently, the blog statistics indicated I have some Greek readers.

A few months ago I visited Greece, and while I am probably one of few travellers who did not ferry around the islands, from the mainland I did look out at the glorious expanses of the Aegean Sea and marvel at the islands in the distance. The joys of discovery were not limited to searching in the distance. Sometimes, as I found, you can enjoy the sea even more because of structures on the land – you can see through them and they create frames for seeing other landscapes. South-east of Athens is a ruined temple, the Temple of  Poseidon. Almost picture postcard imagery. I had to keep pinching myself.  I was there.  I smelled the freshness of the wind.  I tasted the salt on the air. I felt the sparkle of the sun in my eyes. I heard the passing of seabirds. And I touched the remnants of the workmanship of creativity from over 2000 years ago. And there below and spread out into the distance was the deep blue of the water capped by the blue of the sky.  The gods certainly found one part of paradise.
20140602_121813

The photo shows the ruins of the Temple of Poseidon at Cape Sounio/Sounion located south east of Athens, Greece.  I hope you can you feel the sun in the air.