Crocodiles | longing for spring

Sitting and checking my usual TV stations (FoodNetwork, Animal Planet, and Discovery Channel), I parked myself on the Discovery Channel as I discovered a new series called, Tattoo Hunter. Being a fan of tattoos and wanting to learn more about their various histories, I was intrigued. The host, tattoo anthropologist (who knew there was such a thing??) Lars Krutak, was going to a people in Papua New Guinea called the Kaningara. He was intrigued by the Kaningara because of their very secretive and spiritual scarification ritual that was also a rite of passage for boys to become men. They believe in a crocodile spirit, called Nashut, and that if the men scar themselves in a way that is representative of a crocodile they will inherit some of his power. Over 1000 little cuts are put into the flesh of the men on their backs, chests, and bellies-- the chest being the head of the crocodile with the nipples as the eyes and the bellybutton being the nose.

Though the scarification was the only thing discussed in the episode, this article is Krutak's assessment of his visit and of the Kaningara and reveals more about their worship of the crocodile and their male-centered culture. Without retelling the entire article, it is very interesting the different ways that the men separate themselves from anything and everything feminine, even having the notion that it is the males who give life, and not the females. More than that, of course there is a spiritual side to the entire ritual of the crocodile scarification in which only males are to participate. Their "spirit house" is forbidden to women; if any should enter, they would be killed-- reserving spiritual practicies and spirituality for men and men only. It would be interesting to learn more about the social structure of the Kaningara, particularly of what part the women play besides birth (and even that is, in a way, stripped of them). Krutak is sure to note that modernity is changing much about the spiritual traditions -- or at the very least, the skin-cutting -- of the Kaningara, but I wonder how much of it still leaks into their social structure.

I can't help but think of Old Testament passages that forbid cutting of one's skin, or tattoos. While there are Christians who believe that tattoos are "of the devil," I would to a point disagree... being biased, having three tattoos myself and looking for more eventually. But there are also Christians such as myself who would agree that the forbidance was in the context of what pagan cultures were doing around them and why they were getting the tattoos. The Kaningara are a reminder of that: while also a rite of passage, the whole ordeal was/is also thought to cause the man to inherit some of Nashut's power. The underlying reason was basically in worship of something not God, like the pagans from Biblical middle-eastern times (and boy would I love to learn more about those practices to be more informed!).

I also can't help but think of other passages, like in Romans where Paul writes, "...they [humans] became fools and exchanged the glory of the immortal God for images made to look like mortal man and birds and animals and reptiles." The Kaningara are or were certainly spiritual and religious and have a profound connectedness to what they believe ... probably even more than some Christians I've known. They are certainly more connected to the spiritual world than any American would be, and it's that kind of depth that's respectable. I might not agree with it and it's contradictory to Christianity, but that doesn't mean I can't respect it. What's harder to respect is the spiritual ambivelance of "there may be a god of some kind out there but I don't think it matters" because there's no commitment to it; no passion, no solid stance besides "it doesn't matter to me or affect my life."

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Winter makes me thoughtful, and while normally I'm able to vent those thoughts somewhere I've been so caught up in busy-ness that it's all been trapped in my head. Before you know it, the thought fizzles out like a smouldering matchstick and all that's left is the smokey haze. Winter makes me thoughtful because, in Philadelphia, it's miserable: seemingly constant gray overcast skies, gray sidewalks, gray buildings, brown-gray mockeries of trees, dead leaves, and cold air. The relief comes when there's not an overcast day and blue sky breaks up all the gray... which usually has it's bitter winds, but at least there's the hopeful blue sky that reminds me it'll pass. It's hard to be motivated when everything around you is gray, though, even when busy-ness prevades my life! Maybe I try to keep busy so that I don't notice the gray as much- which would explain so many things.

I just want spring to come. There's such a loud longing for it that anytime there's a hint of warm weather I get a little giddy on the inside. There have been a few on-and-off warm days (like today) that I've felt so much better about everything. They're little rays of relief that God gives me to let me know that there's something else around the bend in this season. Life overall has been good I'm just tired of contemplating and thinking and planning and pouring out. I think this coming week will give me many opportunities to recieve art (go to galleries) and put a little bit of rest and fun back into the bucket. Here's hoping for some actual Sabbath! Here's hoping for continued warmer weather-- green leaves and color couldn't come soon enough. There's something utterly refreshing about seeing a tree full of leaves and green grass and colorful flowers. I can't wait for it to get here.