Category Archives: Wheel of the year

Delving into the Psyche, Edumacation, New Year New Me, Onwards, Philosophy, Spirituality, Wheel of the year, Witchy

The Darkness

sunwaiting.jpg

Yule – the Winter Solstice – is an ancient holiday dedicated to honoring the sun. For ancient people, this was the darkest time of the year (in the Northern Hemispehere, anyway). It was cold, people survived with food stored from the harvests, preserved by drying, curing, or fermenting. More dark means more danger, for a human is a daytime animal with poor eyesight for night movement. The Winter Solstice is the longest night, but within that lengthy pitch black time is a message that brighter days are to come. After all, if you’re in the longest night, logic follows that the next will be shorter, and science proves that each night after that will be shorter and shorter until the sun is back with a warm presence and the ability to see one’s work and one’s path for the majority of an Earth rotation.

The ancient people were, after all, scientists. We tend to forget that because we have had the benefit of millennia of collective human knowledge to build on and we consider our knowledge superior because it is more correct in the details, but in some ways this is a privileged point of view and it dishonors our ancestors by implying that they are less intelligent than we are. They were not. Their science might not look like ours, but they didn’t have the benefits we do of all the hard work that’s gone before us. They were the first. They marked the seasons and noted the calendar both on earth and in the skies. They learned how to cultivate gardens and farmland, how to breed animals to more fully nourish themselves. Tell me that’s not scientific genius. To take this planet, entirely from scratch, and to use it to sustain life, to eventually create civilization (and, yes, modern life has SO. MANY. PROBLEMS. but when you step back from that and realize that even the “synthetic” things in our life have all come from the genius of humans learning how to use the resources on the planet and nothing else, you can see how remarkable our species truly is).

I digress, but the point here is that these dudes knew their shit. Maybe not as completely as we know it, and maybe in different terms with different meanings, but they knew it.

sunrise.jpg

So. I graduated.

It is dark in my life right now, but life doesn’t operate as predictably as the seasons and I don’t know whether this day is my shortest one, and income is about to lift me out of poverty, or whether I am still early in the fall and I must wait for my darkest night still. That thought is terrifying. There is, of course, also the possibility that spring will never come back into my life. It sounds dark, but I say it without emotion: sometimes, terrible things happen to good people and that’s just how it is. The American Dream, the Bootstrap Myth—none of that shit is real. Capitalism is toxic and most do not thrive in it.

I am not really as pessimistic as that makes me sound. But I am humble enough to recognize that against the forces of fate and capitalism I am no more special than those who do not survive these systems. Just plain and simple: sometimes shit happens. *shrug*

I know it’s a couple of weeks on beyond the winter solstice now, but to face this time in my life – to graduate at the winter solstice – seems particularly apt. I am comforted by the knowledge that the Universe has a rhythm for this. It doesn’t ease my anxiety completely by any means, but it does comfort me to know that darkness is cyclical. Night ends, winter ends, and life changes take effect and the new normal becomes the expected and the comfortable.

I don’t know what my new normal will look like and if I am being honest, I truly hate that part of all this. But I am taking one blind step after another and eventually I will come out of the darkness into the day and I will see my way back to Summer again.

sunstar.jpg

Where I will hopefully stay for ever and ever with no more darkness or poverty ever again. Right? Yep. We’re just gonna go ahead and go with that.

Holidays, Just Life, Wheel of the year

Independence Day

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I think I might be dating myself if I say that I always have this desire to shorten the holiday’s name to ID4. I might be dating myself, but I think the actual phrase I’m looking for is “I might be a total nerd.” But I have legitimate reasons for this:

1. I’m lazy and “Independence Day” is long.
2. “Independence” is one of those words I have a hard time spelling for some reason. It always comes out “independance”. Maybe cause it makes me want to dance? (Answer: NO.)
3. Jeff Goldblum was super hot in that movie.

is it unpatriotic to drink a mexican coke on independence day

Actually, now that I type that out, I wonder if anyone even remembers that the movie was nicknamed ID4 when it came out. I remember this vividly because it was my first summer working at the movie theatre and that Fourth of July I spent 9 hours straight working without any breaks at all (because my bosses were all, “Labor laws? We laugh in the face of labor laws! *whipcrack* You! Work like it’s 1894!”) and the line for Independence Day stretched twice around the mall. Srsly. Life was so hard in 1996. Without the option to buy your tickets online ahead of time or 4 different theaters totaling 106 different screens within three miles to choose from. I remember having customers who didn’t understand what ATM cards were and thought that “up to $40 cash back” meant they might win money.

glow sticks

I digress. The point is that we had bacon-wrapped hot dogs and Cokes to celebrate our country’s birth. We also saw a 3D movie, had cupcakes, played with glow sticks, watched fireworks, and wore our stars and stripes Chucks (well, I did) like good Americans. It was, overall, a pretty awesome day.

crowd on a hill
(There are fireworks in that picture. They’re just so tiny it looks like people standing with their heads on fire.)

Just Life, Wheel of the year

Matchy-Matchy June-June (for him and her and me and you)

I was looking over my most recent edition of PhotoJojo’s Time Capsule (which, if you are a Flickr person, you really need to sign up for this) and the thing that struck me is that in some ways (mostly those ways documented by photos), this June looks really similar to last June.

Take, for example, the drive-in. The kids and I usually try to hit the drive-in at least once a summer (it’s open year round here, but I am a delicate flower and daren’t venture outside at night in the winter), but we don’t necessarily try to get it done right in June. That is a coincidence (or, possibly, just an effect of how the movie industry plans their releases).

Last year:
7 Days: Day 2 (At the Drive-In)

This year:
supermoon over the drive-in

And then there is the celebration of Litha. Which is always in June. So. Not really a surprise, I guess. But we haven’t necessarily always gone to the same beach over the years, and some of our celebrations have been more ceremonial than just running through waves and bringing home half the sand. But last year and this year we minimized. At the same… beach. So. There.

Last year:
tower 33

This year:
photo of the year
I’ll never stop posting this picture. Sorry not sorry.

Bowling. (Which. Every time we go, or I blog about it, or think the word “bowling” I get this song in my head.) There is a nationwide program called Kids Bowl Free where you can sign up your kids for two free games each day of the summer. You only pay for shoes, and you can buy yourself a summer pass for only $25 to bowl with them. It’s awesome. It’s the only way I can afford bowling. We go a few times each summer, but the photos only happen in June, I guess, while the experience is shiny and new again.

Last year:
7 Days: Day 3 (Take the kids bowling. Take them bowling.)

This year:
Prettiest bowling ball evah.

But here’s the oddest one. This is, apparently, the time of year where I lug giant books around with me and sit at the playground next to Trader Joe’s and read while the kids play. And photograph myself doing it (what? 7 Days is always in June, too).

Last year:
7 Days: Day 4 (Reading Break)

This year:
this was a 7 days reject i have to blog now

Spirituality, Wheel of the year

How I Spent the Summer Solstice

photo of the year

Tonight we went with some friends to the beach to watch the sunset. It is Litha, the summer solstice. The reason I am Pagan is because I feel closest to God (Source/The Universe/Mother Nature/whatever you want to call it) when I’m connected to the Earth. I know. A lot of people say that; it’s cliche. That’s OK. It can be cliche and also legitimate. There are some Pagan holidays in the wheel of the year that I don’t connect with as much – Imbolc and Lughnasadh, for instance are harder for me to relate to (possibly because I’m not a farmer or connected with the harvest in that way). It’s the equinoxes and solstices that I particularly connect with, I think, in part because they are very clear astronomical events. When I stop and think about the fact that today my part of the Earth is at the point where it’s the closest to the sun that it will be all year I get a small sense of just how small I am and where I am in this Universe. And then I bury my feet in the sand and I feel like life is perfect. The Earth is perfect, it’s passage through space is perfect, the way the seas rise to meet the moon is perfect, my feet covered in sand are perfect, the smell of the ocean is perfect. Nothing is perfect and that is perfect.

toes in the sand

In past years we’d have a big to do with an altar and a feast and a circle with friends at the Pagan holidays. We haven’t been very formal about anything recently. Because life is hard, man. And sometimes I guilt myself for not being better about planning things, but honestly, that’s bullshit. I love ceremony and ritual and I love when I do those, but sometimes it’s just as meaningful to bury your feet in the sand and find perfection. Who says ceremony and ritual have to be ceremonious and ritualistic? (I mean besides dictionaries.)

sunset

So it was a very short night, with very little ceremony, but it was full of laughter and friends and these weird kids (and that MOON!).

a bunch of weird kids

Happy Solstice!

The Zebra, Wheel of the year

Goths Love Spring, Too

pink

I’ve always had underlying feminist intentions, even when I was a kid and didn’t understand really how much feminism is still needed (because I was raised by weirdly fundamentalist people). But there was a part of me which rebelled against girly things such as romance and flowers and screaming about insects and loving the color pink. Some of these were more true at some ages than others. For instance my 7th grade self read way too much VC Andrews and wore the absolute SHIT out of this one pale pink hoodie.

Jacaranda appreciation #2

But by 9th grade, when I started becoming the human I’d grow up to be, I swore off girly things pretty much entirely for the next few years. Of course, this was also during the height of Grunge, and during this time I began discovering other subcultures as well. And, while I’ve never actually been goth (partially because I lack the commitment to dedicate myself to any one particular facet of subculture), I felt kinship with goths because of our shared love of Robert Smith and hatred of the sun and preppies.

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When I visited Hawaii when I was 22, I didn’t expect to love it a whole lot. I considered myself a more Londony/rainy kind of person than a tropical/beachy kind of person. I went because I wanted to travel, and because it was my last trip with my grandparents, and because I wanted to understand more about my family history (we are not Hawaiian, but they lived there in the 1950’s). Of course Hawaii was all, “Yeah, whatever. You know you’re gonna love me.” And, indeed, Hawaii had the last laugh. Even Londony goths can love Hawaii. Fact.

Insane amounts of blue in the sky today. #nofilter

Similarly, when choosing a favorite season (having lists of favorites, it turns out, remains important well past eight years old. my favorite planet is Jupiter), I assumed I’d choose winter or autumn. Because they’re the more gothy of the seasons. Spring and summer are all cheerleader peppy and colors and sunshine and happiness. And, in the words of Sally Sparrow, “Sad is happy for deep people.” And, true enough, if I lived in a place where we had actual seasons, autumn might be my favorite (but not winter because, let’s face it, for all my complaining about stupid happy sunshine, I am a delicate flower when it comes to temperatures and snow is downright terrifying). However, we don’t have seasons, and our autumns are not spectacular with all the colors of fire lighting the path into the darkness of winter. So I’ve neglected to choose a favorite season, likely because I sense, deep within myself, that my favorite season might just be that pinkest and preppiest of seasons. Crap.

Happy Thing: Spring

This year I’ve deeply pondered such a possibility: Is spring my favorite season? Is that acceptable for someone with an inner goth such as myself? And I’ve had a sort of awkward internal struggle between that side of myself that fancies itself a Deep Person for appreciating Dark Things and that, more suffocated side of myself, who thinks flowers and blue skies are pretty lovely actually so there. And I have to admit she’s right. There is something about the promise of springtime. Of new life and new beginnings. Of that particular green of new leaves that really doesn’t exist at any other time of the year. Of trees exploded in blossom – sometimes so overexcited about flowering that they cannot even be bothered to grow leaves until the flower festivals have been celebrated.

Dappled with shade, dotted with petals.

So there. I grudgingly admit that I love the flowers. The pinks. The purples. The greens. The sunny skies. The warmth on the shoulders.

Spring.

As it turns out, goths can totally love springtime, too.