Hell’s Smells and Cockle Shells

If Hell was a smell, it would be a tire shop. That smell disturbs my senses so much, and it really sends me into a dismal internal state. I just got my tires changed this morning, so maybe that’s influencing my opinions. During a certain era in Vermont, for example, I would have had a different stance on the worst smell. This is because one Vermont-era day, a truck that was spraying slurry on the fields spilled some on the road near our home. For those of you who don’t know what slurry is (in the agricultural sense of the word), slurry is a liquid form of animal excrement mixed with various other types of waste. Not seeing it on the road until too late, I unwittingly drove through it. It did not just get on my tires but somehow got into the very soul of my car (some part that I don’t know the name of nor how to access it to clean it) and every time we drove the car for the next year or so, it smelled like burning, hot you-know-what. It was revolting and equally mortifying. We went on vacation to Acadia and Bar Harbor that summer, and it did not go over well amongst the other vacationers in the parking lots. So that year maybe I would have said Hell smells of inescapable, hot slurry. Which, as it turns out, is also the smell of embarrassment.

I think what bothers me about the tire smell, though, is that on a visceral level that synthetic smell sends alarm through my being. About 60% of tires are comprised of synthetic, petroleum based “rubber” because natural rubber (from the latex sap of tropical trees) is too soft. I think in a nutshell this is one thing that is wrong with the world. Nature provided limits, and humanity didn’t like them. So we decided (with tires but also many other things) to appropriate the qualities from nature that we wanted by producing a synthetic version that we commoditize often at the expense of nature and human well being.

Synthetic products aren’t always in and of themselves an entirely bad thing. 3500 years ago, willow bark was used as a pain reliever and antipyretic (fever reducer), and now we have aspirin. I’m sure aspirin has helped more people than harmed. I do think, however, that when advances in any field (medicine, technology, etc) are driven by the idea that progress always means more and on a bigger scale, humanity perpetuates a state of disequilibrium with nature.

In our modern western society, many of us have lost our direct connection to nature. We can see this in the example of how we treat our illnesses. We used to be able to identify and collaborate with the tree that would help us. Imagine how different your relationship would be with nature if you went directly to the source of a tree to ask for help with your headache or your child’s fever. You would value that tree differently—with a personal connection and gratitude. Now, we just purchase a plastic bottle full of pills and usually have no idea what’s actually in those pills. 

What is it that drives humanity to move ever upward and onward? And where are we trying to go? Is it to wealth? Is it to immortality? Is it to ease? I really don’t understand the pursuits we seem to be chasing especially when they come at the expense of the natural world, the integrity of human character, and erosion of our autonomy to live well without a dependency on broken and oppressive systems.

We don’t like being limited in space and time, so we built cars and planes so we can zip around all over the world quickly. The fossil fuels required to do so are acquired at the cost of the earth’s wellbeing and at the cost of many human lives. Oil is a leading cause of war. I like seeing the world as much as the next guy, but it’s important to really consider the cost of using these fossil fuels and let that inform how often and how far we travel. 

In our modern US society, we don’t like limitation, and to that point: we also don’t like death. Again, due to our separation from nature, we see death as a negative thing. And sometimes, it comes too early. The circumstances and context of death is sometimes purely tragic. And I’m certainly not shaming anyone for feeling grief even when death is natural. Goodness knows that if I think for two seconds about my former dog, Zuri, I devolve into a puddle of tears. But death itself—the end of an old life to make resources for a new one—is actually a beautiful and necessary part of life. 

Death and life are not separate opposites, and if we were more connected to the rest of nature, we’d understand this more intimately. Life and death are collaborative forces that—when an ecosystem is in balance—work in harmony. This is why composting is just as much a spiritual ritual for me as it is pragmatic. Death is required for life to continue. In the case of compost, the garbage decomposes and becomes the nutrients we use to enrich the soil and re-grow our food. Additionally, that food per se requires death—whether it’s a plant or an animal product. When we eat, we are affirming that our lives required the deaths of other beings, and that is why it makes sense to pause and offer gratitude for those sacrifices. 

Philosophically, spiritually, and intellectually we can go in circles all day with existential questions as to why we are bound to a system where death and life are inextricably linked, but suffice it to say, “you can’t make ought from is.” (Hume) Or, I guess, in this case, “you can’t make is from ought.” (Linds) We don’t get to decide what ought to be and base reality on that. Like I wrote in my last post: “It is what it is.”

Broadly speaking, however, our human brains are not easily wired for acceptance without explanations. So, how has humanity coped? Human kind created mythology and religion. 

Now, some may find it offensive that I’m putting myths and religion in the same general category. Here’s the thing, though; thousands of years ago, Greek mythology was the religion of the time and place. There’s a fair amount of overlap in what both mythology and religion offer people.

Myths and religions have tried to help us reconcile the mysteries that are difficult to accept (i.e., that life requires death to live). Myths and religion have tried to help us reconcile our own mortality (it is super challenging to be conscious of our own inevitable and impending deaths). Myths and religion have tried to help us connect to the transcendent sense that we are part of a much bigger mystery that exceeds our own individuation. Myths and religion offer a scaffolding of understanding for the brain and nourishment for the soul; they try to answer our spiritual questions and meet our pyschological needs. 

Science, on the other hand, tries to give us information and knowledge about the physical universe in which we live. Sciene and mythology/religion are not mutually exclusive. But, in the words of the great Neil de Grasse Tyson: “if you’re going to stay religious at the end of the conversation, God has to mean more to you than just where science has yet to tread.”  In other words, if you get too literal and specific about your beliefs, then as science continues to gather new data about the universe in which we live, you will be faced with two difficult options: it will upend your reality when science debunks your beliefs OR you will become dogmatically obedient to beliefs that are evidently not true. The former is a challenging awakening at best and a spiral into a perpetual dark night of the soul at worst. The latter is a decision to willfully remain delusional out of dutiful obedience. 

So, I say: keep your concept of the numinous big enough that you don’t have to block out science. Keep an openness and humility so that you don’t convince yourself that you know things you don’t. Keep a courage that allows you to stay present with the mysteries. Maybe focus on guiding values more than literal beliefs. I think that’s what myths and religions were always meant to do: guide us. They were never meant to be a list of facts. 

Factual knowledge runs the risk of becoming obsolete. For example, it used to be a fact that Pluto was the 9th planet in our solar system. But then astronomers realized that Pluto was not clearing the space around it’s orbit. And so it was kicked off the team. And it rocked our realities. Don’t even get me started on indigo and the rainbow. 

So what is considered factually true can change. Beliefs can and should be updated when new data is observed. But deep truth—universal truth—is ‘a great pattern that is true everywhere, always, and for everyone, across all cultures and time periods.’ (Richard Rohr) And one of those truths seems to be that change is inevitable. So, having a durable yet adaptive mythology or religion—durable because it’s capable of holding reality as it’s observed and adaptive because it updates beliefs as new information is available—is going to be vital to our survival as a species going forward. 

In addition to durability and adaptiveness, our mythologies or religions should make the world better, not worse. What do I mean by this? Well, let’s take John Stuart Mill’s theory of utilitarianism as a general example. Mill believes that an action’s morality is determined by the consequences it produces. He posits that consequences are socially defined as morally good or morally bad based on how much overall happiness it promotes in society. So it’s kind of like socialist hedonism. Okay, maybe that’s not the best marketing for a lot of you who think poorly of both socialism and hedonism. How about, judge a tree by it’s fruit? We often apply this to a person’s character, but we can also apply it to our own beliefs and actions. Does this belief make the world a better place? Does this belief produce good fruit? If so, keep it. If not, update it. 

As we approach Thanksgiving, I’m thinking of the dominant false narrative that gets spun into our culture every November about how the colonizers lived peaceably with the Indigenous people eating pumpkin pie. Until we reconcile some of the dominant false narratives that we hold—narratives that stem from oppressive beliefs that are rooted in too literal of an interpretation of mythologies and religions—our trees will produce bad fruit. 

European contact with this land and the Indigenous nations that were here was not peaceable. The colonizers evaluated the nations here as inferior to their “civilized” ways because Indigenous cultures practiced reciprocity with the natural world. The colonizers judged many of those cultures as being lazy or ignorant because the people weren’t exploiting all the natural resources. Many of these misjudgments and prejudices were rooted in the damaging beliefs that arise when the origin stories of Genesis are taken to be literally, factually true: that humans were made to dominate and subdue nature. This belief alone has caused so much destruction, such a lack of reverence, and such disrespect for all beings that aren’t human. The more science advances, the more we are discovering just how sentient non-human beings are. It is time to reexamine some of the religious or mythological components that we believe literally if they are no longer supported by evidence—especially when they are harmful. Maybe this Thanksgiving we can all give thanks for the abundance and generosity that nature bestows on us despite the fact that as a species we haven’t been as reciprocal or collaborative as many Indigenous cultures knew to be. 

Religion was never meant to be a list of facts. It’s supposed to offer a framework—a lens—for finding deep truths that are enduring. Facts and literal truths change over time. Deep, universal truths reemerge in myths and religions, across every culture over time. Let’s focus more on a pursuit of deep wisdom than on being right.

Hell isn’t a smell, but hell also isn’t a physical place. It’s the absence of Love.

Rather than banking on the details of the next life, let’s cherish this one. I’m telling you, friends, there’s a beautiful world out here to explore, to love, to cherish, to nurture. Don’t waste it. 

^{_{*fun fact about the title of this post: it’s based on two expressions “Hell’s Bells” and ” Cockle Shells” which I thought was a line in a nursery rhyme, but the internet assures me it is not. Hell’s Bells, as it turns out, is an expression that originated in the 19th century to express anger or surprise. “Silver Bells and Cockle Shells” was from the nursery rhyme about Queen Mary the first of England who was responsible for the torture of Protestant martyrs (and used torture instruments that people nicknamed as such). From this vantage point in history, it seems absolutely inane that there was such needless death and suffering for the disagreements between Catholic and Protestant interpretations of Christianity. We are living in the future’s past, let’s make better choices.}}