Portland Boys

August Eve

**** **** **** **** **** **** ****
 

Some people spend weeks preparing elaborate rituals to celebrate the sabbats, complete with memorized scripts, special clothes and props. I am not one of those people. As with my summer solstice "ritual", I didn't really know I was celebrating August first until I was up to my eyeballs in it. It turned out exactly perfect, though. It always does.

The first day of August is the date often given for Lughhnasadh or Lammas, the cross quarter day marking the end of summer and the first harvest. On that morning I posted a John Payne poem on Facebook, one of his series of month poems that I love so much because they seem to just perfectly reflect the way I feel about a given season. "And the sun blazing in the blue o'erhead, "Would God that it were night!" is apt to say And "Would the summer-heats were oversped!""

As I've told you, summer is a strung out, crazy time for me, and posting that poem was about all I could put together in terms of "celebrating" the festival. I can hardly get it together to clean the bathroom after a day of work and play, let alone plan or execute an extra celebration. And anyway, I was getting ready to go to a Timbers's game that weekend.

Portland boys, we are here – Whoa, Whoa
Portland boys, we are here – Whoa, Whoa
Portland boys, we are here
Steal your women, drink your beer!
Whoa, Whoa, Whoa

Timbers Joey! I'm leaning over the railing just out of frame to the right.

The Portland Timbers are the city's Major League Soccer team and are kind of a big deal around here. Years ago, when the Timbers were a little known, minor league team, a group of fans formed themselves into a supporters group that came to be known as the Timbers Army. Wikipedia claims it all started with 8 guys in 2001, but today the Army claims eight SECTIONS of the soccer stadium. Timbers tshirts, jerseys, hats, bumper stickers and other swag are de rigur for a certain type of Portlander and the waiting list for Timbers Army season tickets makes them coveted status markers in this town. The games themselves include loud and constant chanting, scarf waving, drums and trumpets, and other hooligan-esque characteristics of soccer supporters around the world.  

Burn, destroy, wreck and kill – Whoa, Whoa
Burn, destroy, wreck and kill – Whoa, Whoa
Burn, destroy, wreck and kill
Portland Timbers bloody will!
Whoa, Whoa, Whoa

I personally am not much of a sports fan so have not really followed this aspect of my city's culture over the last few years, but lately I've been more and more aware of the Timbers situation. My dad got a job working at the stadium a couple years ago, and lately I have made a number of friends who are Timbers Army fanatics. I have been thinking of trying to go to a game but without connections you have to pay through the nose for a seat not in the Army. What's the point of that? Finally, though, one of my friends got me a ticket for a game.

August Eve is the time in the wheel of the year when we celebrate All that is Manly and Good in the World. It is a time for competition and feats of physicality that show off strength, daring and skill. It is a time for celebrating the "bright, positive, masculine principle". I have been surrounded by young boys this summer at my work and see first hand how deeply ingrained being loud and physical, shooting and clashing is in them. In our feminist influenced culture of child rearing, we tend to want boys to be quieter, gentler and more in control of their bodies but without letting them experience their physicality, they will never be in control of it. And male physical power and testosterone driven competition are necessary elements in this world. Fatherlove and warrior power do not solve all problems, but we have enough problems in this world that we need all the tools in our toolbox. Including those brought by little boys who build forts, pretend sticks are guns and punch each other when they are frustrated.

Timbers Army! I'm visible on the lower left.

An afternoon in the Timbers Army is a full sensory immersion in the world of All That is Manly and Good in the World. Yes, there are many women in the Timbers Army, but the whole thing is so testosterone driven as to be essentially male in essence. The day was one of the hottest days of the summer so far, and the Army section is on the north, very sunny, part of the stadium. After a trek to get to the field, we proceeded to chant and cheer for two hours straight. It was a good game in a terrible season and the Portland Boys came back from behind to a draw. A highlight was the goal that tied the game up in the second half, complete with dark green smoke bombs and a crowd gone completely batty. I'm a tourist in the Army, here for the atmosphere and the fun, not the game or the players, but I couldn't help but being on the edge of my seat (er, leaning over the railing.. no one sits in the Army) when the play moved closer to the goal and the ball went zipping back and forth. Those men are strong and fast and skilled, Manly and Good. 

We are green, we are white – Whoa, Whoa
We are green, we are white – Whoa, Whoa
We are green, we are white
We are bloody dynamite!
Whoa, Whoa, Whoa

The evening ended, as all good evenings do, with a party and a trek. After playing some bar basketball and drinking some more cheap beer my friend and I set off back across town. The day had topped out at 95 degrees, the first day to get so hot all summer, and evening was coming on. It was still warm, but lovely as we wove our way through downtown towards the river. We splashed through Salmon Street Springs, lingered on the Hawthorne Bridge and stopped at a food cart for late night poutine and people watching. By the time we got home, we were sweaty, beat up and physically and emotionally exhausted. Just as you should be at the end of a good festival, right? 

In the week since my Timbers Army Experience I have been enjoying noticing the subtle turning of the season into autumn. The days are getting shorter, the sun is lower in the sky and more leaves are tinged gold or russet. The harvest is in full swing with markets full of berries and tomatoes. And the Timbers fight on, maybe they'll win a game or two before the end of the season. Even if they don't, though, they will have fought the good fight and that's what All that is Manly and Good in the World is really all about. 

We’ll sing for you Timbers
‘Til you finish the fight
There’s a party in Portland
No one’s sleeping tonight

How did you celebrate the August festival? How are you celebrating the masculine principle in your life and the world around you? Have you ever been a rabid supporter of a sports team or known people who were? How are you celebrating the first harvest in your life? 

**** **** **** **** **** **** ****

August Eve 2011: An August Journey

August Eve 2010: August Eve, The Subtle Turning

August Eve 2009: August Eve In the Woods!

Courage, Bullying and Ramadan

The Old Father's Moon

**** **** **** **** **** **** ****

Eid Mubarak! The holy month of Ramadan is closing and the Muslim world is celebrating Eid ul Fitr, a massive celebration of family and festivities. People all over the world have been buying new clothes and even new furniture, preparing huge meals and readying gifts for family and neighbors. They will spend anywhere from one to five days visiting family, hosting feasts and distributing gifts to celebrate the end of the holy month of fasting. I get the feeling it's kind of like Christmas as far as a party season is concerned.

Over this last month I have been collecting and sharing stories about the different kinds of people in the world who are Muslim. I have read about the Muslim people of Senegal, Indonesia, Bosnia-Herzegovina, Syria, Iran, Pakistan, Iraq, Detroit, Los Angeles and many many others. I have read about their food customs (and eaten a number of delicious date concoctions - check out My Halal Kitchen's Dates and Cream), their daily life during Ramadan and their special religious ceremonies during the month. As I read, I kept in mind the charge I set myself at the beginning of the month, to be mindful of God-in-People. A query I asked "Do I speak to and answer “that of God” in everyone?"

One of the things I came to realize as I read these stories is that we as a species can be quite awful to each other. We are very bad at realizing and respecting that of God in each other. I learned a lot of stories about people being oppressed, persecuted and outright killed because of their cultural affiliation. I read about the Uiygar people who's lands were invaded by the Han Chinese in the early 20th century and have been oppressed religious and ethnic minorities ever since. Recent years have seen resistance violence in their Central Asian capitol which has resulted in harsh bans on practicing their Muslim faith. I read about the Kurdish people who, after World War I, had their ancestral lands split between Turkey, Syria and Iraq. Their cultural identity has been actively suppressed by the Turkish government and the government of Saddam Hussain in Iraq. Their language has been outlawed, political organizing harshly crushed and even entire male populations of villages killed. I read about the Mughal invasion of northern India, where the new Muslim rulers felt justified in destroying Hindu religious sites because they were heathen, and modern laws and attitudes in Europe and America that make being a Muslim difficult and dangerous. Of course, stories of oppressors and oppressed are not limited to the Muslim world, but it was a theme that came up again and again.

The pastor at my Quaker meeting gave a sermon about bullpuckey, as he called it, the other week. He was specifically talking about bullpucky about Jesus and how Quakers stand in a unique place to see through, and speak up against bullpucky because of our belief in silent worship, personal connection with the divine and speaking truth to power. In worship, I thought a lot about a faith and values based anti-bullying program I heard about recently where the main focus is on helping bystanders to bullying find the courage to speak up. The thing that connects the bullpucky my pastor was talking about and the bullpucky of bullying is power, and writ large the bullpucky of those in power leads to the kind of oppression I see in my study of Muslim cultures. Whether oppressing or being oppressed, misuse of power, cultural bullying and disrespect of human life and dignity is a big pile of bullpucky.

What can we do about this cultural bullying, this disrespect for humanity? Paul Coughlin, the founder of the anti-bullying program The Protectors, says that the most powerful player in the theater of bullying is the bystander. Bullies do what they do because no one stands up to them, no one points out their disrespectful behavior, no one has the courage to say "stop!". A study quoted by Paul Coughlin's group says that 58% of bullying incidents end within just a few seconds of a bystander speaking up for the victim. Whether his numbers are true or not, and whether this study can be scaled up to culture wide bullying, I don't know. I do know, however, that we must do everything we can to shed light on oppression, bullying and bullpucky everywhere.

The Father's Moon energies ask us to think about how we can be mature adults as we interact with our community to make it a better place. How can we keep our community safe, how can we encourage community members to be better people? How can our own resources and gifts be used for the greater good? There are so many things going wrong with our communities that it is easy to get overwhelmed. It is easy to ignore the bullpucky, easy to let the bullies set the agenda. Courage is required to be a good father, and courage is required to use the Father's moon energies to speak up for those who need a champion. I'm not saying I'm any good at any of this, but I'm saying I feel a new call to be mindful of it.

The 10th Anniversary of 9/11 is coming up in the next week and I worry that with heightened emotions there will be extra bullpucky about Muslims, about war and about our cultural bullying. I wonder what I can do to be a courageous bystander.

What did you learn about Islam and Muslim people this Ramadan? I'd love to hear your stories or thoughts. Have you ever found the courage to stand up against bullying, oppression or other forms of bullpucky? What's your favorite recipe using dates? Eid Mubarak!

**** **** **** **** **** **** ****

This post is not for the Full Father's moon and it is not for the New Nesting Moon, it is for the old Father's Moon. Here are links to other Ramadan posts, which is the main theme of this post. Use the tag for "Father's Moon" to see other New and Full Father's Moon posts from years past.

Ramadan 2010: Ramadan and End of Ramadan

Ramadan 2011: Blessed Ramadan and Ramadan Postings 2011

Photos by Carmen Alonso Suarez, DMahendra, DVIDSHUB and zz77. Please check out their photos on Flickr.

An August Journey

August Eve

**** **** **** **** **** **** ****

August is here! It is the time in the Wheel of the Year when the Father God sacrifices himself again so that all life may continue to live. It is the time of the first harvests, yellowing grass, ripening fruits and the shorter but hotter dog days. It is the time of manly and physical energies, of Lugh and Osiris, Adonis and Jesus as he fights, lives and dies for his beloved (that would be you, me and all of creation!). Each of these deities go on a journey, leaving their life behind and traveling into death only to reemerge alive again. August is a time for all kinds of journeys, mythical and physical, magical and mundane, godly and very, very human.

One of Portlander's favorite ways to spend a hot summer day is to float down one of our many beautiful rivers. On the weekend closest to August Eve I set out with my sister and a couple friends to float down the Clackamas, a river named after one of the original native peoples of the area. It flows down off the slopes of Mt. Hood through old growth forest and lush farmland into the Willamette, the river in the center of Portland itself. It is a beautiful river that runs swift and clean for many miles just outside the Portland metro area.

The day started out like any other hero's journey, with a call to adventure. This happened to take the form of some phone calls and text messages, but hey, even hero's are subject to 21st century technology. After acquiring our tubes, some river safe sandals and sustenance for the trip we were off!

By the time we finally arrived, packed our backpacks, blew up our tubes and slathered on the sunscreen we were very, very ready for the river. Our first challenge was to face the threshold monster in the rapids right after the boat ramp. We were hardly wet yet and the rapids looked very, very scary. I believe I screamed "we are all going to die" repeatedly as the current took my tube and sloshed it down the rapids. We did not die but were rewarded with a lovely deep pool and rocks to jump off of right after the rapids.

Onwards we went, paddling or floating, through rapids and calm water. It was a beautiful warm day and the water was pleasantly cool, but not too frigid. We saw trout in the river and vultures, bald eagles and osprey overhead. I love how fully immersed in the river you have to be when tubing, both literally and psychologically. The rapids on this stretch of the Clackamas are not so dangerous that doing them on an inflatable tube is foolhardy, but they do pose a genuine risk if you treat them flippantly. You have to watch the water, choose your line through the rapid and paddle your body appropriately to avoid hitting rocks or overhanging trees. One friend banged an elbow pretty bad on one rapid and my sister got tossed arse over teakettle in another. I hit my bottom hard on a rock, but luckily it is well padded and no one was seriously hurt. It makes me feel really alive to feel the river like that, to be so fully engaged with the physics of the universe.

We had a wonderful time, horsing around and enjoying the sights until someone asked if we had passed the pull out where our car was. Oh no. We asked some other rafters if we were past McIver park and they laughed at us. Yup. Crap. In an inspired moment of group-think, the four of us decided to deflate our rafts and head up the bank of the river towards the highway, which we assumed would be close. Like Odysseus facing Charybdis and Scylla or Luke Skywalker and the rebel fighters battling AT-AT walkers on Hoth, we valiantly fought that river side slope. It was covered in blackberries and stinging nettle. We lost sandals in knee deep mud and fell off fallen logs. We were sure we could make it all on our own!

But then we couldn't. We realized that we were not going to get out of this with only our own abilities and wits. Frodo finally decided to trust Gollum and we decided that we were going to have to trust the river and the luck of the hitchhiker to get back home. We re-inflated our tubes and headed on to whatever we might find downriver. Lady Luck was faithful and sent us a guy with a truck to bring us up to the highway from the boat ramp. We walked along the road for a while, worried that we would have to hike the whole way back but then, joy of joys, a car pulled over! It was another river floater who had been picked up by a hitchhiker herself earlier in the day. She drove us all the way back to our car with a smile and a kind word for our weary crew.

Our hero's journey ended, like all good rituals, with a feast cooked over an open fire. We grilled hamburgers and sat on the deck, aching, stinging and sunburned but happy. We had faced the challenges and, with the help of some luck and blessing, made it out alive and better for it. August in Portland is a magical time, and our day on the river was a perfect way to start it off.

What journeys have you made this summer? Which male deity is your favorite and why? When have you ever trusted and had your trust repaid with a boon? How did you spend August Eve this year? What rivers are near your house and how do you enjoy them? Happy beginning of the harvest season!

Photos by brx0, Tom Clifton and Matt.Picio. Click on the photos or on their names to see more of their Clackamas River photos and other photography. Thanks!

**** **** **** **** **** **** ****

August Eve 2009: August Eve In the Woods!

August Eve 2010: August Eve, The Subtle Turning

This post is also about the Hero's Journey, which I also discuss in the post from this past Journey Moon, Perseus and the Journey Moon.

Solstice Story

Winter Solstice

 **** **** **** **** **** **** ****

 I woke up for the sunrise on Solstice morning and hiked up to the top of Council Crest. The day was grey and I didn't see much of a sunrise, but I did hear a story told by the sky and the trees...

Long, long ago in a time before there was either time or ago, all there was was the Darkness of the Divine. Out of this Darkness the Goddess formed herself and for almost as long as there had been just Darkness there was just the Goddess. Eventually, she came to realize she was alone, and then realized that she was lonely. Out of the one that was The Goddess became the Two, the Goddess and her consort the God. And they were happy.

Out of their happiness and their love sprang the myriad things. Out of their love sprang the stars and the earth, the water and the stones. Out of their love sprang the plants and the grass, the birds of the sky, the fish of the sea and the beasts of their land. Out of their love sprang rain and snow and the light of dawn and the still of twilight. All these myriad things were beautiful and rejoiced in their love of the Goddess and the God. And they were happy.


As time passed the God and the Goddess watched the drama of life play out on Earth. They watched plants grew and deer eat them. They watched deer grow and wolves eat them. They saw the vultures and flies eat the wolves' flesh after they died and the plants grow out of them again. The Goddess and the God watched this cycle, and the countless other cycles of birth and death and rebirth and saw that something else was needed in this world they had created. Just as the mouse sacrificed its life for the life of the snake and the minnow sacrificed for the perch and the fruit for the monkey, something or someone needed to sacrifice their life so that all the life of the myriad things could continue. And they were not happy, but they were at peace.

The God, the Goddess's consort, lover and partner, knew that it was his role to sacrifice himself for his creation. As he grew into the full strength of his power he prepared for his own sacrifice. Finally, despite the Goddess's sorrow, he chose his moment and sacrificed himself in a blaze of color and light. And they were not happy, but they were at peace.

The Goddess mourned his death and plant life seemed to die back in the face of her sorrow. The world grew colder and darker but the God's sacrifice had worked. Like autumn leaves mouldering under the snow to produce the next years light spring soil, his life force permeated all of creation. His sacrifice gave all things a chance at rebirth and renewal. And, miracle of miracles, like the cow elk in the early winter The Goddess found herself pregnant; pregnant with the God himself. And she was happy.

She grew larger in her pregnancy as the world sunk deeper into a winter hibernation. When it felt like the Earth could not be colder or darker, or the Goddess any greater with her child she gave birth. She gave birth to a son, to the God, to light and warmth and growth. She wrapped him in swaddling clothes, and held him close to her as he grew. And they were happy.

The Goddess was so happy with her child, with the birth of light and of summer to come that she wanted to celebrate. In her joy she created humans to help her celebrate, to keep watch over the year as the God is born, grows, becomes strong and fills the world with growing green and warm thing. The Goddess and the humans she created watch and celebrate as The God reaches his full strength, realizes his destiny and sacrifices himself in light and color. The Goddess and the humans she created watch and celebrate even as the Earth sinks into restful dark and cold, renewing and waiting. And again, we celebrate at the birth of the new year's Light. And we are happy.

 
These images are created by AlicePopkorn. Please check out all of her amazingly beautiful and spirit filled work on her flickr stream.

**** **** **** **** **** **** ****

Winter Solstice 2008: Good Morning Sun! and also Solstice Creche

Winter Solstice 2009: Christmas

The winter 2009 post Advent, Awaiting the Birth and the winter 2010 post The Dark of the Dark are also about Winter Solstice.

August Eve, The Subtle Turning

When I first started celebrating the seasonal holidays of the Wheel of the Year some were easy and comfortable while I found some others harder to get a handle on. Winter Solstice and Halloween were two that seemed easiest because I use variations on childhood celebrations as my current celebrations. February First and August Eve have been two of the hardest for me to find resonance with. These are subtle holidays. They don’t have the glitzy trappings or big star appeal. They aren’t at major, even-the-muggles-notice-them seasonal markers. They are the gateways into the transitional seasons. Like I said, they’re subtle.

There was a time in my life where I asked everyone I knew what their most and least favorite months were. My theory is that people liked the months they were born in most but the evidence did not support the theory though the subject certainly merits more research. I found that people disproportionately dislike February and liked the summer months. Summer is fun, they would say. Swimming and sunny days and no school! February is dreary and cold and you just want spring to come. I never had much of a beef with February but have always disliked August.

Celebrating February First as a holiday has transformed my indifference about February into full blown excitement. February is when spring starts! It is when trees start budding and the green parts of crocuses and daffodils start showing up. The days start getting longer! Yes, these are subtle signs of spring that come well before the showy signs in April. I think celebrating August Eve is doing the same thing with August. In the past I’ve always felt worn down by August. It’s hot, the days are getting shorter, the grass is getting browner. It’s the time right before my birthday and it has been pretty awful some years. But last year to some extent, and this year even more so, it’s much better. It’s the sublte turning into autumn, my favorite season. Awesome!

To celebrate August Eve I try to do something physical or competetive to commemorate the manly and physical energies of the God at this season. One story associated with the holiday is that of Lugh Lamfada and his foster mother Tailtiu which clearly illustrates the connection between games and this seasonal festival.

Tailtiu was the royal Lady of the Fir Bolg. After the defeat of her people by the Tuatha De Dannan, she was obliged by them to clear a vast forest for the purpose of planting grain. She died of exhaustion in the attempt. The legend states that she was buried beneath a great mound named for her, at the spot where the first feast of Lughnasadh was held in Ireland, the hill of Tailte. At this gathering were held games and contests of skill as well as a great feast made up of the first fruits of the summer harvest.... (For the rest of the story and commentary see this page by Kathleen Dupree)

This year my physical activity celebration was a rafting trip on the North Umpqua, a beautiful river in Southern Oregon. The river is a popular rafting river and the section we rafted was difficult enough that I was glad I was with friends who have worked as river guides. There was one memorable moment when I screamed “We’re all going to die!” and five seconds later we were on flat water. “Oh, I might have over reacted.”

Feeling the river working it’s way through the mountains under my paddle was such an amazing experience. Setting up the raft, carrying it, paddling and putting all the gear away was hard work. We cooked hot dogs and veggie kabobs over the open fire and I slept soundly under the fir trees and summer stars that night. One of the highlights of the trip happened just as we were pulling the raft into our take out. We had been watching an osprey overhead for a minute or two when it folded its wings and dropped into the river only to emerge with a good sized trout in it’s talons.

Maybe it was the cool early summer, or maybe it’s the grand adventure to ring in the month or maybe it’s just a maturity as I reach my 30th birthday next month but I’m actually looking forward to August this year. I’ll look for the subtle signs of autumn’s approach in shortening days, turning leaves and changing sunlight. I'll enjoy the harvests as they come, one after a nother. The hay harvest was already well underway as I drove down to Roseburg and back. The first tomato should come out of my garden any day!

What did you do to celebrate your physicality this summer? What seasonal holidays or celebrations have changed your outlook on a particular time of year? When was the last time you spent a day on the river?

AUGUST, thou monarch of the mellow noon,
That with thy sceptre smit'st the teeming plain
And gladd'nest all the world with golden grain,
How oft have I, beneath thy harvest moon,
Harkened the cushat's soft insistent croon,
As to the night she told her soul in pain,
Or heard the corn-crake to his mate complain,
When all things slept, beneath the sun aswoon!
The world with sun and sheen is overfed
And the faint heart, its need once done away,
Soon waxes weary of the summer-day
And the sun blazing in the blue o'erhead,
"Would God that it were night!" is apt to say
And "Would the summer-heats were oversped!"
-John Payne

The beautiful photos are by Kenneth Moyle and heritagefutures. Thank you so much! Please go check out their Flickr streams.

Robin Hood

ROBIN HOOD AND THE RANGER from CHILD'S BALLADS

When Phoebus had melted the sickles of ice,
With a hey down, diddle down dee,
And likewise the mountains of snow,
Bold Robin Hood he would ramble to see,
To frolick abroad with his bow.

He left all his merry men waiting behind,
Whilst through the green vallies he passd;
There did he behold a forester bold,
Who cry'd out, "Friend, whither so fast?"

"I'm going," quoth Robin Hood, "to kill a fat buck,
For me and my merry men all;
Besides, eer I go, I'll have a fat doe,
Or else it shall cost me a fall."

"You'd best have a care," said the forester then,
"For these are his majesty's deer;
Before you shall shoot, the thing I'll dispute,
For I am head-forester here."

"These thirteen long summers," quoth Robin,
"I'm sure, My arrows I here have let fly,
Where freely I range; methinks it is strange,
You should have more power than I.

"This forest," quoth Robin, "I think is my own,
And so are the nimble deer too;
Therefore I declare, and solemnly swear,
I wont be affronted by you."

The forester he had a long quater-staff,
Likewise a broad sword by his side;
Without more ado, he presently drew,
Declaring the truth should be try'd .

Bold Robin Hood had a sword of the best,
Thus, eer he would take any wrong,
His courage was flush, he'd venture a brush,
And thus they fell to it ding dong.

The very first blow that the forester gave,
He made his broad weapon cry twang;
'Twas over the head, he fell down for dead,
O that was a damnable bang!

But Robin he soon did recover himself,
And bravely fell to it again;
The very next stroke their weapons were broke,
Yet never a man there was slain.

At quarter-staff then they resolved to play,
Because they would have t'other bout;
And brave Robin Hood right valiantly stood,
Unwilling he was to give out.

Bold Robin he gave him very hard blows,
The other returnd them as fast;
At every stroke their jackets did smoke,
Three hours the combat did last.

At length in a rage the bold forester grew,
And cudgeld bold Robin so sore
That he could not stand, so shaking his hand,
He said, "Let us freely give oer."

Thou art a brave fellow, I need must confess
I never knew any so good;
Thou 'rt fitting to be a yeomen for me,
And range in the merry green wood."

I'll give thee this ring as a token of love,
For bravely thou'st acted thy part;
That man that can fight, in him I delight,
And love him with all my whole heart.

Then Robin Hood setting his horn to his mouth,
A blast he merrily blows;
His yeomen did hear, and strait did appear,
A hundred, with trusty long bows.

Now Little John came at the head of them all,
Cloathd in a rich mantle of green;
And likewise the rest were gloriously drest,
A delicate sight to be seen."

Lo, these are my yeomen," said Robin Hood,
"And thou shalt be one of the train;
A mantle and bow, a quiver also,
I give them whom I entertain."

The forester willingly enterd the list,
They were such a beautiful sight;
Then with a long bow they shot a fat doe,
And made a rich supper that night.

What singing and dancing was in the green wood,
For joy of another new mate!
With mirth and delight they spent the long night,
And liv'd at a plentiful rate.

The forester neer was so merry before
As then he was with these brave souls,
Who never would fail, in wine, beer or ale,
To take off their cherishing bowls.

Then Robin Hood gave him a mantle of green,
Broad arrows, and a curious long bow;
This done, the next day, so gallant and gay,
He marched them all on a row.

Quoth he, "My brave yeomen, be true to your trust,
And then we may range the woods wide:
"They all did declare, and solemnly swear,
They'd conquer, or die by his side.

*** **** *** **** *** **** ***

Robin Hood is an perfect archetype for the God we celebrate at this time of year. Our modern understanding of Robin Hood, based on mideval ballads and honed by 19th and 20th century retellings of the story, show him to be a clever and cheerful fellow who works hard to protect those who need protecting and deflate those who need deflating. He is never afraid of a fight or a feast, and does not live in a palace filled with rich trappings but in a cave or a tent in the greenwood. He is a perfect symbol of All That is Manly and Good in the world.

It was actually hard for me to choose a poem to put in this post because there are so many. I was looking for one in which Robin does a noble deed and so thought about Robin Hood and the Three Squires. This is a classic story in which Robin trades clothes with a beggar (sometimes he fights the scurrilous beggar) in order to trick the dirty Sherrif of Nottingham into letting him play hangman to three innocent fellows. Of course Robin is able to blow his horn, summon the Merry Men and ends up hanging the Sherrif instead!. There are others that are hilarous and gentle and bawdy. Some just tickle me pink like Robin Hood and Maid Marian in which Marian dresses up like a page to go find her lost love, Robin and ends up dueling him in the woods before revealing herself and having a lovely feast in Sherwood Forest.

In the end I chose this particular ballad because I love the rhythm of the poem and the story itself is both a classic Robin tale and it makes me chuckle. I highly recommend spending some time checking out the University of Rochester Robin Hood Project for background and annotated text of many ballads. Howard Pyle's classic The Merry Adventures of Robin Hood is avaliable to view online in a number of places, as well as for sale through your favorite bookseller (mine is Powells City of Books). The top illustration here is from Pyle's version, the other two are by N.C. Wyeth.


What stories speak to you about All That is Manly and Good? What is your favorite version of the tale of the bold outlaw and his Merry Men? Do you find yourself humming Oodelallie Oodelallie Golly What a Day, or We're Men, We're Men in Tights (tight tights!) when you think about Robin Hood? What are you doing this summer to celebrate the Manliness in your life, whatever kind of body and gender you may have?

Fourth of July

The Fourth of July is a Father's Moon holiday if there ever was one. I've recently found myself describing the energies of this time of year as the hot, dry, aggressive, shooting, yang energies of All That is Manly and Good in the World. If that doesn't describe this quintessential American holiday then I just don't know what does.

• Reasons I'm proud to be an American: The Empire State Building, the Golden Gate Bridge, the transcontinental railroad and the Eisenhower interstate system, jumbo jets and the Gemini Moon missions. We are a people who rise to a challenge and are proud of our successes.

These masculine energies (I almost prefer "yang" to "masculine" because it allows the concept to be separate from maleness. Humans of any sex or gender encompass both yin and yang energies in their beings) have gotten a bad rap in the recent years, but they are essential to meeting our true potential as an individual or a society. These are the energies that instigate building, planting, and harvesting. These energies incite young adults to strike out on their own and communities to revolt against unjust rulers. They are the impetus for contests and challenges of all kinds as well as the acts of culling and decision making. In fact, most of the things we Americans have to be most proud of are born out of masculine, yang, Father Moon energies.

• Reasons I'm proud to be an American: Martin Luther King, Rosa Parks and all the black, white, young and old people who used non violent resistence to break the back of opressive segregation in our country.

The American Fourth of July holiday celebrates all these energies as we Americans express them so essentially. Our country was born out of a belief that we can live life on our own terms as individuals and as communities. Our Founding Fathers were wise men who worked hard to craft governing documents by culling and winnowing words and ideas until only the most important were left in. Despite the repercussions that we can see so clearly from this side of history, the expansion of our territory across the continent was driven by people who were willing to take chances to be free from oppression and the constriction of "society." The great American fortunes were built by men who took chances and built companies, factories and industries to harness the great natural resources of our land. As the pioneers saw it grass is just grass, but a cattle ranch or a farm is money in the bank and a chance to live in freedom.

• Reasons I'm proud to be an American: The native people of this land who, despite centuries of explicit attempts to annhilate them, are still here, still living and still succeeding in adding their voice to our American story.

Last summer I wrote that the Father Moon energies might just be the root of all the evil our culture has wrecked upon this earth. Expanding, conquering and controlling energies are behind environmental degradation, oppression of minority groups and massive scale war that have marked this era in our history. Our American history is so full of tales of Father Moon energies that they are, of course, equally full of the tragic consequences of these energies unchecked. The anti-war, minority rights and environmental awareness movements of the last 30 years have all been directly and explicitly working against these tendencies in our culture.

• Reasons I'm proud to be an American: Elizabeth Cady Stanton, Lucretia Mott, Susan B Anthony, the people of Wyoming, and all the women and men who worked tirelessly and peacefully to assert the right of women to vote in this country's elections.

We should be sure though, in our work at bringing balance to our lives and to the world that we don’t throw the baby out with the bathwater. We need the penetrating and constricting action of the Father’s Moon energy to form the formless potential of the Mother’s Moon energy into something useful. You can argue the environmental impact of dams and irrigation projects but those projects have allowed vast areas of this country to support much larger populations than the virgin land could support. The same is true of the industrialization of the Northeastern United States and the diking of rivers in the Midwest. A field, even a beautiful one full of grasses and flowers can not support the same amount of people or cattle as one plowed and planted with grain. These are the Father’s Moon energies at work.

• Reasons I'm proud to be an American: Irving Berlin, I.M. Pei, Carlos Santana, Bob Hope, John Audubon and all of the other immigrants who have crossed oceans or deserts to come to this country and lend their talents to our ever changing society.

So let us celebrate these fiery and explosive, constricting and controlling, penetrating and culling forces of All That Is Manly and Good In the World. Let’s do it now, at the height of the sun’s power in the heat of the summer. Let’s celebrate our ability to create fireworks and sky scrapers, to plow fields and teach children. Let’s make some noise and be a little dangerous. Sometimes it is just necessary.

• Reasons I'm proud to be an American: levels of wealth, health and freedom of conscience unprecedented in history which allow us to pursue even greater levels of just wealth, universal health and freedoms of all kinds for all people. Happy 4th of July!

Photos by one of my best good Flickr friends graygoosie. Thanks to her for letting me use them. Go see what she's up to this summer by clicking on the photos!

August Eve, In the Woods!

In the heat of the summer comes the festival of Lammas, Lughnassad or Teltane - the festival of the first harvest. In the Great Story this is the time when the Father God accepts his duty to sacrifices himself so that all life may continue to be reborn. One story of this time of year is that of John Barleycorn, who as he dies turns into the seed which will be planted so he can grow again the next year. The grain's sacrifice allows nourishing bread to be made.

Another god associated with this time of year is that of Lugh, a celtic diety who's many names refer to his "long arm" or "skilled ways". There is a story that his foster mother, a royal by the name of Tailtiu, was set to the task of clearing a forest so grain could be planted but died of exhaustion in her attempt. Lugh declared a feast in her honor and organized games to be played during the feast. This feast and games are in some way the predecessor of our modern county fairs with rodeos and family picnics with potato sack races.

In exploring how I celebrate this festival I been drawn time and again to this idea of gathering together to play games or be outdoors. One year I organized a picnic at the beach for my Americorps team that included crazy bat races, rain gear relays and water balloon tosses. Like most of my Wheel of the Year celebrations it was not explicitely a Lammas celebration, but the meaning was just the same. This year I organized a camping trip to Central Oregon. It was glorious!

I took two whole days off work and spent three night camping along side beautiful lakes outside of Bend, Oregon. A group of friends came out to meet me and we spent our days swimming, lounging, napping and preparing food together and our evenings eating and drinking around a campfire (and moaning over our sunburned shoulders and thighs!). And of course we cooked things over the campfire. You would never believe how good a can of Dinty Moore stew is when cooked in a wood fire and eaten in the woods. We also made a giant batch of veggie packs, a perennial favorite campfire fare.

Camp Fire Veggie Packs

To bring with you camping:

*A big roll of heavy duty aluminum foil

*Cooking oil of your choice (or strips of bacon, if you do that sort of thing)

*A cutting board and knife sharp enough to cut your veggies

*Vegetables - onions, carrots, potatoes, sweet potatoes, garlic, broccoli, zucchini, mushrooms, eggplant, brussels sprouts, green beans. Whatever is in season and tasty.

*Salt, pepper, garlic powder and/or other seasonings of your choice

To assemble and cook:

*Cut your veggies into relatively uniform size pieces, about 1 inch square. Keep harder veggies a little smaller than softer ones so they cook in about the same time.

*Tear off relatively large square sheets of aluminum foil and lay two on top of each other. Add a little cooking oil to the top square and add a selection of veggies. Mix and match your favorites as you would like - try carrots and mushrooms, or brussels sprouts and onions - or just add a little of everything. You don't want to overload the foil pack with veggies or they will steam and not cook evenly. Imagine the square of foil divided into a 3x3 grid and you don't want your veggies to take up too much more than the center square. Stir the veggies gently to oil them all up and sprinkle with salt, pepper or other seasoning. Alternatively, lay slices of bacon on the foil, add veggies on top and then maybe another slice of bacon. Try this with potatoes or eggplant. Wow.

*Fold the foil over the sides of the pile of veggies and then bring the top and bottom up and crimp it down over itself to seal the packet. It should be pretty securely crimped up.

*Place the sealed up packet of veggies either in the coals surrounding the fire or on a grate over top of a hot coal bed. You don't really want to place the foil over licking flames but instead over hot coals that you rake away from the flames. Leave the packets for 20 minutes or longer, depending on how hot the coals are and how big your veggies are. You can use tongs to pull one pack out, open it up (carefully so the steam doesn't get you) and taste. Crimp it back up and throw it back in if they aren't done to your liking. It's best when they get a little charred around the edges. That's how you know you're camping!

I realized as I was getting ready to leave on Sunday that I hadn't looked at a clock, except incidentally as I drove to and from the swimming beach, in close to 48 hours. I was living according to the natural rhythm of summer camping - wake up when the tent gets too hot, go to the lake when the campsite gets too hot, nap in your tent when the thundestorms hit, cook over the fire as it gets dark and fall asleep when you are tired.

In her book Slow Time, Waverly Fitzgerald writes about how our artificial time of seconds and days and months came into existence and offers activities to help us jump off the hamster wheel and into the river of natural time. It's hard to do in a 40 hour work week when I have to be somewhere at a specific time and get to leave at another specific time but it feels wonderful when I can break away from it.

Like the natural time of waking when the sun comes up and resting when it goes down the festival of August Eve reminds us that a time will come, quite soon, for the year to rest in the darkness of winter. August Eve reminds us that the fields must rest in the darkness of the fallow season and eventually our bodies must rest in the darkness of death. But not quite yet. We still have a glorious harvest season ahead of us including the hot, lazy Dog Days of summer.

How did you celebrate August Eve? When was the last time you broke away from artificial time and swam in the river of natural time? What is reminding you of the upcoming harvest and subsequent winter? What's your favorite thing to cook over a campfire?