It’s been cold and rainy here. Cold is relative. Two months ago I thought 50 degree evenings were crazy warm. It’s always seemed odd to me, a native Minnesotan, that Midsummer comes when it does. Pretty much this marks the beginning of our genuinely hot season.
Karina’s birthday is at the beginning of June and we couldn’t plan her preferred pool party unless we delayed it or held it indoors. Cool isn’t unusual.
Because of everyone’s crazy schedule we’re still delaying her birthday. We managed to all get together this weekend. Karina and I have a deal. I take her out to a high-end dinner for her birthday and she does the same for me.
This year she chose Pittsburgh Blue, a chain steakhouse. It was surprisingly good. The steaks were done to perfection and the seafood we had was also very tasty.
Orion and I also stopped by Gilda’s Club for Friends and Family Day. We’ve been doing this as an annual event, being sure to get our photos taken. Looking at those pictures I note I have a jacket or sweater on in most of them.
Orion brought his drum and we enjoyed a drumming workshop along with visiting. Hoof on the Roof, a folk band, joined us as we finished up drumming. It was a treat to jam with them.
In spite of the cold things are starting to bloom in the garden. I got behind so I still have a few things to plant. I’ve been worried that I’ll lose everything when we start tearing things up to get the remodel going, but I’m afraid we are stalled again. I really don’t want to wait for another year! I miss having a fully functional kitchen.
There are things I’ve been putting off (like a new microwave) in anticipation of getting this all taken care of. It’s frustrating.
Fourth of July is coming up fast and furiously. I’ll probably be off-line, so don’t worry if you don’t see a Monday blog next week. I will try to remember to take some photos.
Maybe parades and fireworks will fill my page. Maybe flowers and wildlife will inspire me. Maybe I’ll remember to take pictures of the family. Fingers are crossed for a fun filled, good weather, holiday.
Previous Midsummer Posts:
Midsummer – apparently I’m not very creative with titles at this time of year!
Charleston – I haven’t posted about Philandro Castile. It’s too close to home, too horrible, and I’m not the one. But I will say Black Lives Matter, because they should and it’s pretty clear that they don’t. I will say it’s important to remember.
It’s cold and it’s dark. Thanksgiving was late, so it feels like the other holidays are coming early. I’m having a hard time getting into the holiday spirit – for any of the holidays. Yule is fast approaching. The winter solstice, the longest night of the year, is this week. All I want to do is crawl under the covers.
Maybe it’s the politics. Maybe it’s the news stories. Maybe it’s just a general sense that certain people feel like they now have permission to be rude, racist, misogynistic and all together nasty. It definitely feels like the longest night.
The thing is, most of the winter holidays are celebrations of hope. They are a coming together of families, of communities. Many of them are directly linked to survival, either as an acknowledgement of the ancestors surviving or as a sacred working towards surviving the rest of the winter.
Both Hanukkah and Kwanzaa celebrate the faith, perseverance and fortitude of ancestors in the face of insurmountable odds. Even the Christmas story has Mary and Joseph finding shelter where there was none to be had. If our ancestors beat the odds, so can we. We have their support, their example, and when our own faith wains we can lean on theirs.
The Islamic calendar is lunar, without some of the “corrections” in the Jewish calendar that keep festivals seasonal. Currently Muslims are also celebrating the birth of the prophet, not Jesus but Mohammad. Along with the longest night comes the birth of the sun. In Christianity the savior is born. There is hope in the metaphor of birth. There is potential for something better to come along. There is a new way of approaching the world being born.
During the longest night people came together to share stories. Like Hans Christian Anderson’s the Little Match Girl they create visions of the futures they wanted to see. Dreams of sugarplums dance in their heads. They’re visited by ghosts, ancestors, departed friends, spirits with teaching visions. Hearth fires are tended, and gifts are exchanged.
In O. Henry’s The Gift of the Magi it is the wise (or foolish) sacrifice that is a gift of love. Yet some of the pressure of our season is that consumer culture that measures how much or how many above how thoughtful, how generous. Finding the “right” gifts, or making them, is often how I come to the spirit of this season. And again, this year that has been more difficult.
I’m finding more seasonal joy in sharing a protein bar with a homeless man on the street corner than in exchanging packages. I’m finding more seasonal joy in being able to encourage a teen I’m driving to school than in writing a holiday letter. I had more fun shopping for my women’s group ritual (where the presents represented themes rather than being for specific people) than I had baking for the family.
I’m hoping for the hope. I’m leaning heavily on tradition to see me through. I’m going through the motions, believing that movement brings movement. I am reminded of being 9 months pregnant, miserable, impatient and not really knowing what the future would bring.
Let the bells ring out. May joy and peace be shared with all. May love and kindness fill the world and vanquish cruelty and hatred. May you all have a blessed holiday season.
Previous blogs about Yuletide:
We live in a world where time is measured with precision to the second. Even so, our experience of time seems much more subjective. In this season when the nights are long and dark there is a natural slowing down. In this season when the holiday rush is upon us there seems to be an imposed speeding up. Maybe it’s this juxtaposition that has me struggling to make a schedule, stay on track and get anything accomplished.
I love the nights at this time of year, especially when there is snow on the ground muffling the sounds. There is a peacefulness that descends with nightfall. Lighting a fire in the fireplace and wrapping up in a warm blanket, hot drink in hand is clearly what’s called for on evenings like this. I look at my “to do” list and think that all I really want is to curl up with a good book.
I have shopping to do. Of course there is holiday shopping, but there is also the every day kind of shopping that is somehow more complicated this time of year. Even the grocery store seems more crowded, parking is harder to find and stopping in anywhere requires shopping to a soundtrack of carols. Getting anything seems to take forever. In addition to these complications are my allergies.
Thankfully I’m not allergic to pine, as are several of my friends. They come out of the stores stuffy and sneezy and it doesn’t let up until January. My allergy is cinnamon, and it’s bad. Even the scent of cinnamon will puff up my face and start my tongue swelling, my throat closing. At least it’s easy to identify and I can usually walk away. But the grocery stores have started stocking cinnamon brooms and cinnamon scented pine cones!
Maybe if I should start exploring grocery delivery. Then I could stay home curled in my blanket while the delivery drivers did my shopping. But I don’t want to return to the days when I couldn’t do anything. I enjoy being able to be out and about (and carry my 1 grocery bag to the car rather than going to drive-through). I have the energy to spend browsing the shelves for gifts. I just don’t have the time.
The winter crud is going around. Orion and I got hit late last week and we’re still dragging a little. This time of year, when there is so much to do, so much pressure to get it done, it’s hard to take time out. I don’t get fevers. When I do they totally wipe me out. I can’t argue, don’t care if I eat and spend my day moving from one “nest” to another. I managed to get Orion fed thanks to leftovers and toaster waffles.
There’s another fever going around this year. The world is supposed to end, or at least the Mayan calendar ends, on 12/21/12. In case you didn’t notice, that’s the winter solstice.
In fact that’s kind of the point. The Mayan’s had a phenomenal grasp of astronomical principles. They understood, better than many American’s do, that the earth’s trip around the sun gives us our longer nights and shorter days (visa versa towards the summer solstice.) They also understood the progression of the equinox, the way the whole galaxy turns upon itself.
This year everything lines up. The winter solstice, the sun in relationship with the galactic core, all of it. It seems a more reasonable place to “end” the calendar than December 31, or September 18th if you’re Jewish, or January 23, 2012 or February 10 2013 on the Chinese calendar or November 15th in the Islamic calendar system. Our dates are pretty arbitrary, the Mayans at least picked an event that can be calculated consistently and that only happens once every 26,000 years or so.
Humans mark the “end times” with fear, and always have. That in part is the reason for the solstice celebrations. This is the longest night of the year, it marks the beginning of the coldest season. It’s a scary time. Modern sensibilities speculate that the general population didn’t believe the sun would come back unless they celebrated the rites of solstice lead by the priestly class. How much different is that than stocking up on water and supplies as we approached December 31, 1999? How familiar is this year’s “solstice fever”?
For a really good article explaining the astronomical connections between the winter solstice and the Mayan calendar look here: http://http://www.december212012.com/articles/solar/2012_The_Astronomy_Connection.htm
In the meantime, stay well and Happy Solstice!
Four nights will quickly dream away the time;
And then the moon, like to a silver bow
New-bent in heaven, shall behold the night
Of our solemnities.
Wm Shakespeare “A Midsummer Night’s Dream”
The summer solstice will soon be upon us and it is also the week of the new moon. It seems fitting somehow to return to Shakespeare.
I’ve always found it odd that the solstice’s are “mid-summer and mid-winter” but that they also the official start of the season. It’s a confusion of science, climate, farming and mythology. Those of you who are out haying this week surely understand the feeling of the solstice being midsummer. Those of you with school aged children are just starting the season out and already counting the days until it’s back to school.
When I was a child midsummer was marked, not so much by the solstice specifically, but by the opening date of the municipal pool. (Usually the same week that summer “officially” began.) I had swimming lessons in the morning and then time for a quick lunch before the pool opened to the public. We literally spent all day in the water.
I was a theater kid. I did plays in school and went to any puppet show or children’s theater production I could get to. Those were the days when our local children’s theater company did a summer production in a tent. It was like going to the circus without the smell and with a real story line. I loved it and was incredibly disappointed when they moved the program indoors and then lost the funding.
Midsummer Night was the first “grown-up” theater production I ever saw. It was my first time at the Guthrie. I went with my Jr. High School. Technically this was a field trip for the 8th and 9th graders over 15. I was not only in 7th grade but young for my class at only 12. Luckily I had a friend in one of the upper grades who was too sick to attend. (I think he broke a leg and got an infection) so I got permission to take his ticket and tag along. I was truly enchanted.
All of those memories serve as color and background to my understanding of midsummer as a Wiccan Sabbat. A high holiday on the calendar that I find gets marked in very odd ways. I have done midsummer rituals based on Shakespeare, inviting the fairies to come romp and do mischief. I have done midsummers that were more about the time in the pool than the ritual. It’s an odd holiday because it’s too hot to be serious and too important not to take seriously.
The summer solstice is the longest day of the year. From this point onward our days get shorter and our time in the backyard without the arrival of dusk and mosquitos more limited. Often the mythology around the Sabbat involves the honoring of the sun at the height of its power. The celebration of sun worshipers around the world. It’s a very inclusive, a rumpus with roaring and sometimes gnashing teeth. A celebration of “Wild Things.”
June is commonly the wedding month. So in mythologies where the God and Goddess are a more traditional couple sometimes the midsummer celebration becomes a celebration of their union. These rites range from very formal affairs to (rumor has it) occasional orgies. The people who love to decorate the space, make bowers of flowers and deck themselves out with garlands and ribbons get a lot out of this kind of celebration.
The full moon in June is the honey-moon (pun or maybe entomology intended.) The brewers celebrate this Sabbat in fine form. The mead making parties are quite popular and so are the parties where everyone opens a bottle from the year before and compares results.
I think my ideal summer solstice celebration might just be sitting in a pool with a glass of mead making a toast to the sun.
The longest night of the year will be upon us on Wednesday. I’m celebrating the night itself alone this year. I’ll go outside in the dark and cold and light a candle to bring back the light. I’ll spend some time in quiet contemplation and meditation under the stars. I’ll enjoy the pause in the midst of a hectic holiday season.
I’ve already been to two Solstice celebrations. Both of them were focused on remembering the community of support that surrounds each and every one of us. I was also reminded that often times when I don’t feel like I belong or like I’m getting the support I need, it’s because of something I am or am not doing.
For instance, it’s very hard to feel a part of the community when the only time I leave the house is to go to the grocery store. I get postings on facebook and in my email all the time about activities and gatherings going on. There are book signings and pot lucks along with open invitations to parties and ritual celebrations. If I don’t feel included, it’s probably because I don’t show up. You need to be a part of a community to feel like a part of the community.
When I’m not feeling supported chances are I haven’t asked for help. I don’t get drop in visitors, not just because I live in an inconvenient spot, but because I don’t really encourage them. If I’m busy and don’t answer the phone and don’t return the calls people assume I’m not interested. If I ask for help with a project and get referred to a company that can help, I have to count that as lending a hand. If the one person I ask is the person I already know can’t do it who’s setting themselves up for failure?
I’ve learned that I don’t have enough respect for people taking care of themselves, including me taking care of myself. I’ve learned that there are plenty of people willing and able to lend a hand, who offer, that I don’t ever call. I’ve learned that please goes almost as far as thank you. I’ve learned that any help counts as help, even if the whole job isn’t finished. These are all problems with my perception and expectations. They don’t actually reflect the world I live in.
So in my quiet and solitary celebration on the night of the Solstice I have quite a lot to meditate upon. As the light returns to the world, I would like to find better ways to nurture my own light. To truly welcome joy and friendship into my life. To recognize and appreciate all the gifts that surround me.
This idea of a “War on Christmas” disturbs me on many levels. Mostly I’m just sad. People take up this call to war as a knee jerk reaction. Clearly they feel very strongly about it. I understand that they feel personally threatened, but let’s take a look at the reality.
I’ve not heard anybody suggest that Christians can’t have trees or nativities in their homes, unlike the Native Americans who had pipes, spirit shirts and drums forcibly removed from them by legislation. I’ve not heard anyone suggest that in order to say “Merry Christmas” you must be wearing a cross or other symbol specifically identifying you as a Christian, like the Jews in Germany. I’m still hearing Christmas carols, even ones with religious references, on the radio and in the stores, unlike the African slaves who were forbidden to sing traditional songs on the plantations. So from a less reactionary perspective, if there is a war on Christmas it certainly does not appear to be directed personally.
However, I have heard it suggested that all of those things be forbidden in ‘public’ forums. Specifically that they should be absent from governmental and educational institutions. So let’s examine this by going back in time about 50 years and using an analogy or two. For the educational argument let us equate being Christian with belonging to the local country club. The question becomes: Is it appropriate for the teacher to stand in front of the class and say something like, “Looking forward to having a great time with all of you tonight at the party at the club.” So far, not a problem but let’s look a little closer. 80% of the class, 16 of the 20 students, come from families that have memberships to the country club. They’ll all be at the party and it’s pretty much all anyone’s been talking about all day. But what about the other 4 students?
1 of the other 4 kids also comes from a wealthy family. They are new to the area and don’t have a membership yet. Chances are good Dad’s boss will extend an invite, but attendance at the party is still a maybe. The second of the 4 comes from a wealthy family but the parents feel strongly that the extravagance of the country club is inappropriate. They won’t go because they have chosen not to be included in the group. The third kid comes from a wealthy family as well. In fact, the parents applied for membership at the country club. They were refused membership because they were black. (In modern terms this could be GLBT, Jewish, or the ‘wrong’ sort of Christian.) The final kid does not come from wealth (isn’t Christian at all) and has no chance of being included in the club unless they turn their back on their own family.
There is a reason many schools have a policy that you can’t pass out party invitations at school unless everyone in your class is invited. Excluding classmates is a subtle form of bullying. It’s even more unacceptable when it comes from the figures of authority, the teachers and staff. Having a winter break instead of a Christmas break is not an attack on Christmas. It’s just an attempt to be inclusive of the entire student body. ‘Tis the season, after all.
With the government, the issue is broader than bullying. When the government excludes the minority in a statement, the implication is to exclude that same minority from participation in the government. This is standard in a lot of places in the world, but it goes against everything I’ve been taught that the United States stands for. The analogy is the Civil Rights movement. Because of the way this is taught, many of us believe this movement was just about integration. It was about where you sit on the bus and not having separate schools, hospitals and water faucets. It would surprise a lot of people educated in the public school system to learn that black people were not allowed to vote. In fact, even when black people were given the right to vote there were a lot of people who didn’t agree and who made extra rules at their local polling places to continue to keep black people from voting.
When the government puts up a Christmas tree it says Christians are welcome here. That’s great if you are a Christian. The problem is that it’s the government’s responsibility to say ALL citizens are welcome here regardless of their religious views. That’s what our constitution says. That’s what the flag stands for, what we “pledge allegiance” to. But we like decorating at this time of year. It’s fun. It’s festive. We are accustomed to having decorated trees. And some people, like governors and the president live in public housing. Shouldn’t they be allowed to practice their religion too? Sure they should.
The Governor or the President should be allowed to put up their Christmas tree (if they so desire), but the Governor’s manor and the White House should probably be a little more inclusive. A “holiday tree” seems like a pretty fair compromise to me. Making a clear distinction between the family and the office also seems like a pretty reasonable approach to me. If there is a war here it doesn’t seem to be against Christmas, but for accountability and inclusion. It’s an issue of civil rights not personal religious expression.
Those are the things people talk about when they say there’s a war on Christmas. That’s why I say it’s a knee jerk reaction. But I actually believe there IS a war on Christmas. I just think the blame is being misplaced.
I celebrate Yule. I mark the winter solstice. My celebration is not so much about gift exchanges as it is about gratitude. The winter solstice is the longest night of the year. It’s a time of quiet reflection. It’s also about the returning of the light, as from this point the days will start getting longer again. Silent Night, holy night. The sparkle of starlight against the snow on a clear crisp winter evening. Making connections and acknowledging the support of the community that gets me through the long winters. These are the things that were important to me when I identified myself as a Christian. These continue to be the things important to me now.
Hanukah is also a celebration of the light and of gratitude. The story is that against all odds, and outside of reasonable expectation, the presence light (the symbol of YHWH), continued to burn in the synagogue until the supply of oil could be replenished. There are gifts involved in the celebration, but traditionally these are more a small token of thanks. Unless you live in America.
The consumer culture has upped the ante for everyone regardless of traditional religious practice. Santa says that our children’s desire for toys and treats should be answered. I know plenty of Jewish and Islamic practitioners in the U.S. have decorated trees because it’s what American’s do. Everyone exchanges gifts at this time of year regardless of their spiritual practices. It’s almost like taxes the way the mailman, and the garbage man, and the paper carrier and all the other people who provide regular services show up with a “Christmas Card” this time of year. There is also the push to get all your charitable giving done before the end of the 4th quarter.
That’s what Christmas means to me. That’s what Christmas means to a lot of people, even if they don’t admit it. Even people who are Christians, if they live in the United States, often have associations with Christmas that are outside the religious. All the “Merry Christmas” in the world isn’t going to change that perception. “Merry Christmas” with my latte, my grocery receipt, my charge card receipt, and fighting through a line in the toy store simply reinforces it.
So let’s stop the war on Christmas and work a little harder at Peace on Earth Good Will Towards All People.