A Summer Evening in the Suburbs

Summer Solstice

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Suburban neighborhoods come alive when the sun goes down in the high summer. In the hot, bright days everyone is hiding, trying to keep cool. Closed blinds, buzzing AC and blaring daytime TV keeps any evidence of the outside world out along with the heat and the sun. But come 9:30, as that bright yellow sun turns neon orange and sinks below the western horizon, the neighborhood seems to emerge like a night flower. Slowly and tentatively, but surely in that fleeting time between sunset and full dark.

Walking around the block there are neighbors to talk to. Catch up on neighborhood news, how's the baby, are the kids enjoying summer camp? The old man and his old dog teeter down the street, encouraging and supporting each other on their twice daily circumnavigation of the block. Doors and window have been thrown open giving you a rare glance into the inner sanctum of the split level ranch, the faux tudor, the tiny bungalow. It looks so much like yours, but the details make you morbidly curious - that lamp, that art, that bookshelf. A window frames the sweaty woman and her daughter doing dishes together. Another window shows a glimpse of the Jewish family enjoying a late late sabbath dinner. Children eating ice cream on the stoop, bare footed and bare armed. The man watering his roses.  The girl on her phone, on her back, on the grass. A cat stares from under a hydrangea in full bloom.

Todd Petit

Turn onto the open street again and see two bright stars in the sky. They are planets, Venus and Jupiter. They are close, close enough that your outstretched two fingers, like a blessing, would cover them both. These bright lights, the Lover and the King, look close but, like the woman with the dishes and the man with his roses, have great distance between them. The planets' distance is measured in hundreds of millions of kilometers, mind boggling numbers that stretch across a solar system. The neighbors, though, what unit of measurement shows strangers who live next door? People who know each others' cars, landscaping and faces, but don't know each other. Have never shared what excites them, what scares them. It might be a bigger distance, really, between the neighbors than between the planets.

Differences and Oneness

 May Day

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When God created everything, God said, "it is good." And God put God's own image in the creatures that walk on the earth. In the midst of the create there was a wonderful garden. It was God's garden. Everything was there, but everything was so close it was all together. God was with the rocks and plants and animals, and they were with God and each other.
All the people were also together in one person who was called "Everyone", or in their language, "Adam." Eve was there, too. She was always there, for she came from Adam. She and Adam were a kind of AdamEve.

In the middle of the garden grew two trees. God told AdamEve that they should not eat the fruit from those trees. One tree was about difference and one tree was about forever. If you ate the fruit of the tree of difference, you would know about differences, and if you ate from the forever tree, you would live forever.

Now the serpent was more clever than any other creature that the Lord God made. And he suggested that AdamEve taste the fruit from the tree of differences. And they did. AdamEve ate from the tree of differences and things fell apart for them. They became Adam and Eve. The difference between them and God also came apart. And the difference between good and evil did, too. 

God called for them and they hid, but God found them. They did not know how to be with God anymore, because of all the difference. There were: good and evil, close and far, high and low, God and people, Adam and Eve... and many more. 

The differences also did something wonderful. Now Adam and Eve could take things apart and put them back together again. They could be creators, almost like God. The couldn't make something out of nothing, but they could make something out of differences.

After the differences, Adam and Eve could not go back to when everything was all together in the Garden. They could only go forward and they did. God sent Adam and Eve out of the Garden. An agel and a sword was put at the edge of the Garden so they could not go back, but only go forward. God went with them on their journey to help them be the best creators they could be, and to be with God in a new way, and to stay one with God.

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This is the story of Genesis 2 as told in the Godly Play curriculum. My Quaker church uses this story based Sunday school curriculum because we know that sharing stories and talking about stories together is the best way to talk about god. The Godly Play stories are always followed by a set of wondering questions where those who heard the story can think together, out loud and silently, about what is important and meaningful in the story. Word fail us when we try to talk about god, but the pictures and metaphors in stories help us express what we know and what we are learning.

When our amazingly gifted story teller gave us this story at West Hills Friends last weekend, most of us brought with us baggage about this story. In the Bible as it is usually interpreted, this story is a story of bad news - deceit, falling from grace, being cast out of the garden, the pain of childbirth, original sin. In Christian theology Genesis 2 is usually seen as a set up for the redeeming nature of Christ's birth and an explanation for why life is so hard. It doesn't feel very redeeming. But interpreting the story just a little differently, as this version does, opens the story up in previously unthinkable ways. Like a flower in May, the story unfolds, revealing layer after layer of meaning to each visitor. 

This week, the layer I am seeing most clearly is the story of differences. They ate from the tree of differences and things fell apart. That line resonates with me right now. When things are different, when you are separated, when you see the differences between this and that, thou and I, now and then, things feel like they are falling apart. But the story has redemption! Out of the differences Adam and Eve learn to take things apart and put them back together, to create something out of the differences. 

As I sat in church, literally on the edge of my seat, and heard those words "create something out of differences" my very first thought was about literally making babies. We just wrapped up a unit on heredity in my 7th grade class and we talked a fair amount about how organisms that use sexual reproduction need one of each sex and the resulting offspring are similar but different from their parents in vital ways. Organisms that use asexual reproduction create offspring that are identical to their parents with genetic variation happening in different, possibly slower and less responsive ways. Without that core difference of biological sex, humans can not create the new thing that is babies. AdamEve were together and they were together with God, but they could not create new humans in that state. 

I also thought a lot about what state of mind AdamEve might have had in the garden, before the differences. There is a spectacular TED talk by brain researcher Jill Bolte Taylor recounting her experience of having a massive stroke. She says that when her left hemisphere, the side of our brain responsible for linear thought, categorizing, autobiographical memories and language (ya know, differences), went offline she was left in a state of timeless connection with the universe, of joy and love and energy. I wonder if this is what life was like in the garden for AdamEve. As Jill Bolte Taylor says, "in this moment we are perfect, we are whole, and we are beautiful." 

But being a whole, perfect and connected piece of the Universal Flow does not allow us to be creative. We just are. When she realized she was having a stroke and needed help, Jill Bolte Taylor could not effectively dial a phone or communicate her need. She was too busy feeling vast and limitless. Babies, in their sense of moment to moment pleasure, pain and wonder do not have the capacity to build or create. It is only when we step into the discreteness of ourselves, when we see the differences between Thou and I, between male and female, light and dark, good and evil, that we can make anything new in the world. 

My pagan theology holds at its center the sacredness of the ebb and flow of the differences in life. Lightness flows and ebbs into darkness, winter into summer, growth into decay and as these differences dance around each other life is created and sustained. In my creation story in the beginning there was One, one Goddess. She could do nothing but Be Goddess until she woke up and realized she was lonely. She, like AdamEve, tasted the fruit of difference, found her world lacking and went about the work of creating what she needed to be connected and happy.

Our job as humans is to dance the ebb and flow of differences. To know that sometimes we must feel differences, painful and separating as they may be, in order to know how to proceed in our creation of a better life. I continue to struggle with anxiety and dark emotions this spring as I work through realizations about my separateness and singularity in the world. The angel and the sword were placed at the entrance to the garden and we can not really go back, only forward. But the path forward also has room for us to dance back into that expansive, connected place of oneness with God and with each other. My walks in the woods this spring have left me more than one mouth agape at the sheer fecundity and beauty of nature. Flowers and leaves, flowing water and animals and compost. And I am a part of it! It is there in that place of connectedness that we can reclaim a memory of Eden and know what we are trying to create out of the differences. 

What differences are you dancing with this May Day?

What stories do you know or can think of that might explain how AdamEve lived in the garden?

What are you working on creating out of differences right now?

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May Day 2012: The Dauntless Youth of the Year

May Day 2011: The Brook in the King's Garden and I Didn't See Fairies when I Was Little

May Day 2010: Glory Days

May Day 2009:  May Day

Brigit

February First

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February First has come and gone. I didn't make Red Soup. I didn't go for a walk around the neighborhood. Things are busy and complicated again this spring. But good. Really good.

I offer you a repost of my most favorite story on this blog. The story of Lovely Luz and Sweet Brigit. I originally wrote this in February of 2010 and I still love it. I hope you do too.

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Once upon a time there was a little girl named Luz who lived with her sickly mother in a small cabin near the woods. Her mother had been weak for a long time and Luz had to take care of herself and her mother. Luz cleaned the houses of other families in their village, collected firewood and tended a small flock of chickens and two pretty nanny goats in the yard behind the cabin, so there was always something to put on the table but never much extra.

In the autumn, as the leaves were falling and the days were getting shorter, Luz’s mother helped her light a candle in a little glass lantern. Her mother was able to come to the door and watch Luz as she paraded around the yard singing songs to the nanny goats and chickens. “Remember,” her mother said “as the light of the sun fades in the autumn, we can keep the light in our lantern through the winter.”

Photo by calynde

Winter was always hard for Luz and her mother. The days were cold and snowy but Luz needed to go out most days to collect more firewood. The nanny goats stopped giving milk and eventually even the chickens stopped laying eggs, but the cold left Luz and her mother hungry for those nourishing foods. There was one wonderful thing that happened in the winter, though. Every evening, after the wood had been stacked by the fireplace and the chickens had been shut in their coops, the goats had been given fresh hay and the dinner dishes washed and put away, Luz’s mother would tell her stories about the beautiful Goddess Brigit. Brigit was always good to the poor and people who were like her always had good things happen to them.

One day just before Christmas, Luz was out along the edge of the forest by her cabin collecting firewood. She had a good armload and was about to turn back seeing as it was getting dark when she saw a man huddled around a tiny campfire. Despite the cold air he was dressed in rags, working hard to warm his fingers which were turning blue. Luz remembered the story her mother told the night before where Brigit gave away a precious silver necklace to a poor woman in need. Brigit’s sisters were angry, but the next day they found a sliver necklace to replace the one given away. Well, Luz thought, whether she found another pile of wood or not, this man needs my firewood, as well as the hardboiled egg and small wedge of cheese my mother sent with me, more than I do.

“Here you go, sir.” Said Luz, setting her gifts down near him. “I don’t have much, but you need it more.”

“Thank you, child.” He said. “I am almost home, and your gifts and kindness will warm me until I get there. Bless you, child, bless you.”

Luz hurried home, for it was getting dark, but just as she reached the path back to her own cabin she came across a large pile of dry, good firewood. She picked it up and hurried home.

“Oh mama!” she cried. “I left the wood I had gathered with a poor man near the forest, but look! There’s a pile of dry, good firewood here!”

“What a lovely girl you are, Luz.” Her mother said. “Just like Brigit you give more than what you can spare. But look, Brigit left this wood for you as a gift. Those who keep the sun’s light strong and care for others are always taken care of.”

A few weeks later a neighbor had taken Luz’s mother on a visit to a friend’s house in the village and Luz was home alone, tending the chickens and nanny goats. Luz went out and collected the last few eggs the chickens would lay that winter and went inside to make a small lunch for herself. Just then an old woman walked up the path by their house and asked if Luz had any bread to spare. The woman looked like she needed more than just a slice of bread to get her home and Luz remembered the story of the old woman who gave Brigit shelter one cold night. The woman tore down a piece of her house and killed her only calf to feed and warm Brigit, but in the morning her cow had another calf and her house was whole and warm. Well, thought, Luz, I don’t have to tear down our cabin to give this woman a warm lunch so she invited her in.

Luz prepared the last of the eggs with the last of the goat milk and a few slices of bread to make a warm meal for the woman, and let her sit by the warm fire for as long as she needed.

“Thank you, child.” she said. “I am on my way to visit my daughter, and your gifts and kindness will warm me until I get there. Bless you, child, bless you.”

When Luz’s mother came home Luz rushed to find the last food in the cupboard to make her dinner, but instead of a crust of bread she found a full egg basket and two whole wheels of cheese.

“Oh mama!” she cried. “I fed a poor woman the last of our eggs this afternoon, but look! There’s a dozen eggs here!”

“What a lovely girl you are, Luz.” Her mother said. “Just like Brigit you give more than what you can spare. But look, Brigit left those eggs for you as a gift. Those who keep the sun’s light strong and care for others are always taken care of.”

Late in the winter, after Christmas but while the days are still dark and cold Luz’s mother, who had always been weak, got terribly sick. Luz was so worried, especially when her mother couldn’t even get out of bed. She kept her mother warm and the fire strong, and prayed to Brigit for help.

After three nights of this, when it felt like winter will never end and her mother would never be well, Luz fell asleep by the fire. She dreamed she heard an old woman walking by the window of their little cabin chanting.

Moving rightways with the sun
My blessings weave and bend
Weave and bend

All winter you did keep the light
Spring blessing soon will rise
Soon will rise

Luz rose from her seat by the fire and wrapped her shawl around her shoulders. She grabbed her Martinmas lantern and headed out to follow the sound. Ahead of her she saw a woman dressed all in black, with hair white as the snow and a face dark like old wood walking slowly through the woods. Luz followed her quietly, sure the old woman must know she’s there, but the old woman never turned around or stopped chanting. She just kept walking into the woods. Luz followed the woman further into the woods than she had ever been before but she wasn’t afraid, the old woman seemed to have a light and warmth that made Luz feel safe.

Moving rightways with the sun
My blessings weave and bend
Weave and bend

All winter you did keep the light
Spring blessing soon will rise
Soon will rise

Eventually, as the sky started to lighten in the east, the old woman, with Luz following behind, came to a clearing with an old stone well in it. The old woman stood by the well and finally spoke, “Come closer child. Do you know who I am?” Luz shook her head, too afraid to say what she knew must be true.

“I know I don’t look like the beautiful woman in the stories your mother tells you, but I am her, I am Brigit. This night is my night, this morning my dawn. You carry with you the light you have nurtured all winter with good deeds and warm stories. Because you have done so well at caring for that light through the long dark winter you may have a wish. What do you wish for, child?”

“I wish for my Mother to be well again.. and.. and for this winter to be over! I am so sick of it being cold all the time.”

Brigit laughed, “Granted one wish and you ask for two. No matter, it can be arranged.”

Just then, the first morning bird sang out, and the first ray of dawn’s light broke over the horizon. The old crone Brigit pulled the bucket out of the well, dipped her hands into the cold, clear water, and splashed her face. Her robes instantly turned to red, and her hair to a speckled grey and black, and her face to that of a matronly woman of middle age. In just another moment, the disk of the sun broke above the horizon, spilling full sunlight into the clearing with the well. The mother Brigit dipped her hands into the bucket again, and once more splashed a handful of water onto her face. In the blink of an eye her robes turned to pure white, her hair to a deep auburn red and her face fair as that of a young maiden.

“Come, bring your lamp here,” said the maiden Brigit and Luz did as she was asked. Brigit took the lantern from her hands and blew the candle out, but the light didn’t go away. It seemed to Luz that the light from the candle, instead of being kept inside the small lantern, spread throughout the whole forest. The morning dew sparkled on swelling buds and the sun seemed even brighter than it had been the day before. The snow was still deep and the air cold, but Luz could tell spring would be on its way soon.

The maiden Brigit pulled a small tin cup out of her cloak and filled it with water from the well. “Take this to your Mother and have her drink it. She will be well soon, and spring is on its way. Keep my memory alive, Luz, tell stories about my good deeds and live them out in your own life. Blessed be.”

Photo by dawn m. armfield

Luz took the cup and her lantern and hurried home, as quickly as she could, but careful to not spill a drop of the precious water Brigit pulled from the sacred well.

“Oh mama!” she cried, when she got home. “I met sweet Brigit at the well and she gave me this magic water to make you well! Oh, mama! You will be well again!”

“What a lovely girl you are, Luz.” Her mother said. “Brigit found you who are so like herself and has blessed us all. Those who keep the sun’s light strong and care for others are always taken care of.”

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February First 2009: February the First

February First 2010: Lovely Luz and Sweet Bridgit This happens to be my all time favorite post from all two plus years of blogging. Please go check it out. 

Feburary First 2011: Brigid - The Goddess of Poetry

February First 2012: Brigid's Red Soup and Magic

Solstice Celebration

Winter Solstice

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One year, the wind blew down the mountain fiercer than it ever had before. The wind screamed so loud sometimes that Lucia could not hear her mother humming as she rocked the baby by the fire. Frost covered the nail heads in the walls, and the wind that sneaked in through the cracks tossed the last of the flour in the barrel around, so that it seemed to snow inside the house as well as out.

One day, the sun did not rise over the mountaintop. And the next day and the next and the next, not a glimmer of sun shown, no matter how long Lucia watched for sunrise. Dark roosted on the land.

"Where has the light gone?" Lucia asked.

"I don't know," her mother replied. "Even the oldest tales never told of this darkness." She wrapped Lucia in her arms. "We will be each others' sun until the real sun returns," she said.

Today is Winter Solstice, the day with the shortest sunlight hours here in the Northern Hemisphere. It is the height of winter, the darkest time of the dark season. Starting tomorrow, the sun will stay in the sky just a little longer. And that is more than enough reason to celebrate.

I spent the day at the Nature Park doing a day off camp with elementary school aged kids. We spent the morning reading the wonderful story Lucia and the Light by Phyllis Root, which I have exerpted here, hiking in the woods and seeing what was growing and what was not out there. We found some awesome newts and an amazing fungus forest, with six or seven varieties growing out of a single pile of logs. Of course, we sent arms full of leaves and twigs over the railing of the bridge and down the swollen Beaverton Creek, an all time favorite activity for kids of every age. 

In the afternoon we made lanterns to celebrate the returning of the sun. We talked about the science of the solstice and how the days will begin to get stronger with each passing day and then provided them with colored tissue paper and plastic lantern forms. As the dusk came on we lit them with electric tea lights and paraded around the office building, welcoming back the sun. Later, ask evening came on for real, the kids asked if we could turn off the lights in the room and they proceeded to leap over their lit lanterns. Screams of laughter greeted the gathering darkness.

Sunlight followed Lucia through the front door and poured across the floor, warm and sweet as honey. A fire blazed and the hearth and the baby cooed and clapped to see Lucia.

"I thought I had lost you," her mother cried, sweeping Lucia into a hug."and then the sun came up, and I knew you would come home. My brave child!"

Lucia's mother held her close. "My sunshine," she whispered. "Light of my heart."

How do you celebrate the darkest day of the year? How did you welcome the dark, or greet the growing light? When was the last time you heard children howling and screaming with laughter? Happy Solstice!

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

Winter Solstice 2009: Christmas and Advent, Awaiting the Birth

Winter Solstice 2010: Christmas, 2010, Solstice Story, and The Dark of the Dark  

Winter Solstice 2011: Advent and The Long Nights of Winter and It's Christmas

Winter Solstice 2012: City and Sky Advent

How Can I Help You?

Halloween

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About a week ago we marked the last autumn festival day and began our move into winter. In American culture that festival day is usually called Halloween, but it is similar in nature to the Celtic Sahmain and the Catholic All Saint's/All Soul's day festivals. It is the end of the year, the last harvest of animals, the time when the veil between the land of the living and the dead is thin and the beginning of the cold and dark winter season.

I marked the holiday during my last week of Outdoor School in both festive secular and a more religious manner. On October 31st we had a really fun Halloween party that included carving pumpkins, searching for beads in bowls of gross "guts", a haunted house and costumes. The four of us Field Instructors made capes out of space blankets and were Super Field Instructors all day. Too much fun. The next day the classes, all from Catholic schools, invited a priest to come and conduct an All Saint's Day mass. I made the time to attend that as well.

Taking the communion by amioascension

I have only attended Catholic mass one other time in my life, in the spring of 2005 when Pope John Paul II died. That was at the Catholic church in Ashland, Oregon and I remember the feeling of awe in looking at the program realizing that people all over the world were saying the same words, hearing the same scriptures, engaging in the same rituals as I was and that the older gentleman next to me had been doing these same things for decades. That kind of ritual and continuity are so very attractive to me, but that's another story for another time. This mass was different because it was in a lodge at a camp and the other attenders were 12 year olds. The nun who was their teacher actually did a really good job of reviewing some of the important parts of the mass which was helpful to me. I knew that mass was a reenactment of the last supper, but she explained it very clearly. She also introduced the topic of saints and how they become saints. During the scripture reading portion of the service a number of kids participated by reading singly or by being a part of a chorus of readers. It was interesting to see how into the whole process some of the kids were and how "along for the ride" others were.

It being an All Saints Day mass, the priest gave a homily about saints who are not yet canonized and the priest read a story about a man in a homeless shelter who acted as a saint, even as he was so in need himself. The priest was a bit of a doddering old man, but he asked the kids to share examples of people they know who are unrecognized saints and many of them had wonderful things to say about neighbors and grandparents. In summary, the priest reminded us that Jesus didn't ask us how smart we are, or how perfect we are, he only asked us to help each other. That was how he lived, and that is how he asks us to live.

Food Not Bombs by Ann Arbor Free Skool

There is a flip side to this idea of generosity and assistance. There are times when we are the ones who need to be helped, and it can be even harder to accept help than it is to give it. I saw this in action a couple days later when I was at the Food Basket, the little grocery store in the town near camp in the early morning. A woman, buying family groceries and struggling with her cart and walker, was terribly embarrassed that her card wouldn't go through. The checker was trying to be helpful but a line was building up behind the woman. The man directly behind her was a bicyclest, one of the many who do medium to long distance trips along the coastal highway, and clearly better off than the woman buying groceries. He tried to offer to pay for her things, handing the checker the cash but the woman just wouldn't accept his help. She insisted that there was money on the card and finally ended up not getting everything she had picked out so that she could afford it with the money in her purse. This interaction reminded me that it is not enough to help, but we must also come to terms with being helped in the winter. The woman could have graciously accepted the gift and been able to use her grocery money for other things, or even buy groceries for someone else next week. Instead, she got caught in her insecurity and shame and could not allow the bicyclist's generosity to flow into her life.

BIG RIVER
(one of my very favorite camp songs, sung this week at camp) 

There's a big river flowing, it'll be there tomorrow
It's time we should be going, there's no time for sorrow
The stars will light the way back home, the song will keep the fire
Remembering the days we've roamed, the song will lift you higher

So sing for the river, and sing for the stars
Sing for the friends you've made, wherever they are
Sing to bring you back again or to take you away
Sing a song for me my friend, sing for today

There's a big river flowing, and it's always in motion
It carves out its journey, on down to the ocean
Now you can choose your path alone, and take it to the sea
Remembering the song's your own, the song will set you free

So sing for the river, and sing for the stars
Sing for the friends you've made, wherever they are
Sing to bring you back again or to take you away
Sing a song for me my friend, sing for today

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Trick or treat by Mark J P

It is now winter, the cold dark time of the year when resources begin to run short. Thinking about how to help and how to be helped is natural at this time of year and one of my favorite parts of the Waldorf autumn and winter festivals is how they ritualize and make concrete this impulse to help. The autumn festivals begin with Michaelmas, at the Autumn equinox, when we receive a spark of heavenly light from God's own warrior. At Martinmas, in early November, we nurture that spark in lanterns and honor a man who cut his own cloak in half to help a person in need. As we get closer to Christmas, we light more lights, spend more energy giving gifts and energy to help each other through the dark time until the cosmic light is reborn at solstice and Christmas. By St. Brigid's day, or Candlemas, in early February our own lights are feeling weak and worn, but the light is taken up by the earth again as spring begins it's rebirth. Honoring this feeling of needing to help and encouraging us to take steps to actually help are important reasons for these winter festivals.

How did you celebrate this Autumn-turning-to-Winter festival? Do you have a tradition of jack-o-lanterns and trick or treating or do you do a different celebration? Have you been feeling the pull of the season of giving? Do you have trouble letting generosity into your life? Happy All Saint's Day, Halloween, Sahmain and winter!

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Halloween 2011: Day of the Dead and Dia de los Muertos Altara and Nurturing Warmth at Martinmas.

Halloween 2010: Doggy Heaven (still chokes me up, years later) and The Power of the Dog and Martinmas. 

Halloween 2009: What Do You Really Want to Be? and Moving from the Season of the Dead. 

Halloween 2008: When the Veil Between the Worlds is Thin

The Morning Swift Show

Autumn Equinox

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Some people think the most wonderful time of the year is Christmas but I know it is September. Gorgeous weather, cooler nights, the colors of autumn starting to show. I just love it.

The Morning Swift Show

I have a long standing tradition of waking up for the sunrise on the equinox and a separate tradition of viewing the Vaux's swifts at Chapman school in September but this year I finally combined them. For years, I've been wondering if the birds put on a show in the morning when they leave the roost so this year I combined my traditions and went to see the Morning Swift Show. September 20th was a windy morning and cool, but the sky was clear and it was evident that it was going to be a warm day. I arrived at the school about 10 minutes before the official sunrise time and there were three other intrepid souls waiting for the bird, a hipster couple wrapped in a mexican blanket and an older gentleman with a notebook and binoculars. Just after the published sunrise time the birds started to come out of the chimney, not in the swirling mass they go in with, but like a fountain dripping over the side. The birds would leap out and fall for a couple feet before flapping their wings and flying off into the new day. The Peregrine falcons, a regular visitor to the evening Swift Show, was there with a mate or a friend. Both were very successful in nabbing breakfast. As the sun rose above the clouds the rush of birds ended and I walked across the park to the dog park. Now I know what happens to the swifts in the morning, and it was fun to have the spectacle almost all to myself. 

Steiner identified the archetypical festival of this season as Michaelmas, the celebration of the God's warrior overcoming a dragon or serpent. It is the time when we face our own fears and earn a spark from Michael's iron sword to light our lanterns through the winter. But first, we get to bask in the glory that is autumn. My favorite time of year.

What did you do to celebrate the equinox? What dragons are you facing? When was the last time you got up for the sunrise? How is autumn progressing where you are? Happy equinox!

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Autumn Equinox 2011: Michaelmas Season and Michaelmas Photos

Autumn Equinox 2010: Here Be Dragons and A Dragon Tale for Michaelmas 
 
Autumn Equinox 2009: The Autumnal Equinox and The Earth is Breathing its Soul Back In

Portland Boys

August Eve

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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? 

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August Eve 2011: An August Journey

August Eve 2010: August Eve, The Subtle Turning

August Eve 2009: August Eve In the Woods!

Strung Out Summer

Summer Solstice

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Midsummer is upon us and past and I finally had my Summer Solstice celebration. Last weekend I went camping up on Mt. Hood with a large group of friends and the guys I met up with on Friday had spent the day collecting firewood for a bonfire of epic proportions. The night involved a lot of beer in red white and blue cans, conversations about adult topics and lots of hearty laughter around a fire that burned until well after dawn. A great way to celebrate the height of summer.

This time of year I always feel a bit strung out. I don't sleep well, I over schedule myself and act like I can just go go go without recharging. There is too much to do, too much fun to have, during this short window of long days and good weather. I've been working full time doing an environmental education day camp and still maintaining my busy social schedule. It's been lots of fun, but chronic sleep deprivation certainly colors your life in interesting ways. 

On Saturday of our camping trip we drove down to Trillium Lake, a popular day use site on the mountain. The lake is a bit less than pristine, but the view was fantastic, the sunshine pure and hot and it felt good to be immersed in the water. This is what summer is about; friends, sunshine, fresh air and feeling like you can't keep going but you can't stop either. 

How has your summer been going? Do you feel the solar power this time of year? How do you celebrate this surge in energy, light, heat and activity? Have you ever watched a campfire burn until sun up? Happy summer!

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Summer Solstice 2011: Wanting to be Up and Doing and Circle Cycles and Pulses: Pagan Values Blogging Month

Summer Solstice 2010: The Season of Light Nights

Summer Solstice 2009: Summer Solstice Fishing Extravaganza

The Dauntless Youth of the Year

 May Day

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Ode in May
 
What is so sweet and dear

As a prosperous morn in May,

The confident prime of the day,

And the dauntless youth of the year,

When nothing that asks for bliss,

Asking aright, is denied,

And half of the world a bridegroom is,

And half of the world a bride?

-William Watson, 1880

May Day by Nick Smarto

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May Day 2011: The Brook in the King's Garden and I Didn't See Fairies when I Was Little

May Day 2010: Glory Days

May Day 2009:  May Day

Quickened with the Force of Love

Spring Equinox

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Happy Spring! I woke up this morning to an inch and a half of snow so it doesn't feel much like spring, but the days are getting longer and longer so it must be. In fact, the fruit trees are flowering like crazy and the wet snow last night caused a very pretty plum tree to fall across my apartment's driveway and a quite large alder fall in my dog walking park. When spring is defined as the season of growth

Waterfront Blossoms by Nick Nada

it doesn't matter what the weather is, those plum blossoms, the daffodils below them and the 7pm sunset are telling us that spring has sprung!

These last two days I have been listening to the wonderful interview Krista Tippet did with Iranian-American scholar and professor Fatemeh Keshavarz about the poetry of Rumi, the 13th century Persian sufi writer. It has been a wonderful way to celebrate the growing spring, even as I drive around in the rain and snow.

Come to the orchard in Spring.
There is light and wine, and sweethearts
            in the pomegranate flowers.

If you do not come, these do not matter.
If you do come, these do not matter.

From A Great Wagon

Rudolph Steiner wrote that the earth, like all sentient beings, has a soul and goes through cycles of inbreaths and outbreaths. He saw the summer as the peak of the earth's outbreath, when the soul of the planet is in communion with the cosmos. The winter, then is the peak of the earth's inbreath when the soul is completely within its own rocky body. Spring is the time of the outbreath, the release after a long winter and the time when the solid physical-ness of winter meets with the active ethereal-ness of summer. At the spring equinox these energies are balanced, the bodies of plants, animals and even people if they are in tune, move and spin in growth while still being well contained by their physicality. 

Kids Playing by YoAndMi

Rumi's poetry balances on and bridges the border between physicality and transcendent, as well. Many of is poems seem erotic, describing a beloved's body, scent or countenance. Like all the best poetry it is unclear who exactly the beloved being spoken of is, god or an earthly lover?  Keshavarz says that to Rumi these two kinds of loves, and all the other kinds of loves we experience, are places along the continuum of human experience. The goal, she says, is to purify the soul but that the rest of the human experience is not base or sinful. "Love, whether of this kind or that kind ultimately leads you to the same king," writes Rumi. We are here in a physical body so that it can help us along our path. Keshavarz quotes a famous Sufi tale in which a young man approaches a master over and over asking for teaching. The master refuses to teach the young man, asking "Have you ever fallen in love with a woman?" "No", the young man replies, "I am just 18 years old." The master answers simply, "Well, go try that first." The physical world is a tool of the soul on it's journey, a very important tool.

The world is a mountain
Whatever you say, good or bad, it will echo it back to you
Don't say I sang nicely and mountain echoed an ugly voice…
That is not possible

The human intellect is a place where hesitation and uncertainty take root
There is no way to overcome this hesitation…except by falling in love

To reach the sea and be happy with a jug water is a waste
The sea that has pearls…
And a hundred thousand other precious things.

On the World, translated by Fatemeh Keshavarz

Waterfall by rknickme

I know this, too, that our bodies and physicality are vital tools on our journeys as spiritual beings. And in the spring of the year it is time to relish in that physicality. Trees are bursting into blossom delighting our eyes, the wind carries scents in a way it hasn't in months delighting our noses and the sun shines in a way that delights our skin. Let us delight in all the other ways we can be in and of this muddy, rainy, snowy, deliciously beautiful place we call Earth. Let us be whirling dervishes like Rumi's followers - centered while moving, quickened with the force of love.

What does spring look like where you are? Flowers and sun or snow and mud? Have you ever read or heard any Rumi poems before? Which are your favorites? How do you celebrate the physicality of life? How do you stay centered while moving?

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Be sure to check out Krista Tippet's On Being for downloads of the radio interview, transcripts, recordings of the poems I quoted and more plus photos, reflections and so much more. And subscribe to On Being so we can talk about all the shows! Also, check out some other poems that I decided not to include, but are are too good to go without a mention. Rainer Maria Wilke's Widening Circles read by Joanna Macy on an older episode of On Being, and Robert Frost's A Prayer in Spring. It's almost National Poetry month, aren't you excited!

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Spring Equinox

Spring Equinox 2009: Spring Equinox

Spring Equinox 2010: Giving Thanks at the Equinox and Easter

Spring Equinox 2011: Spring Equinox (apparently I'm a creative namer of spring equinox posts...)