Julian Cope presents Head Heritage

Dear Moss and Gladman,

No, I don't think we're any different at all. I don't think the people painting animals in Paleolithic caves or siting their Neolithic monuments where they just happened to live were entranced by anything ***I'd*** call "nature" or "landscape." At least, not in the sense that they were enthralled by vistas or thunder or herds of animals for the inherent sake of those phenomena.

Those old time poeples were perfectly content to wipe out the North American megafauna, chop down the British Islands forests, denude the native European landscape of anything that got in the way of their making a living. We do the same. Imagine me shrugging while I type this.

Now, don't get me wrong. If some of us today primarily find our experiences of the mysterium tremendum et fascinans out in what today passes for wild places, go for it. I love it. I'll shrug on the backpack --packed with whatever Loie thinks she might need, and a whole lot of stuff I like to drag along-- and slog out to any d*mn deserted forsaken Welsh tor, any rain sodden Hebridean bog, you name it, just to say I've been there. I'm up for it. I've been a whole lot of weird places, most of which were weird because I was weird myself. But that's just it.

For at least a hundred thousand years, we've been finding and trumpeting the Sacred where we happen to be. The secret is, it's everywhere. And I mean, everywhere. Don't make me get graphic on a family rated web site.

The only real question is, okay, Sacred; now what do we do with --or about-- it?