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Solstice reflections.
27 June 2021 15:10This is coming much too late after the event itself... but better late than never!
To put it in context, though, the first Eightfold Path holiday I THOUGHT I would celebrate was Beltane. That turned into me perusing The Druid Magic Handbook, which I'd just gotten a few days ago, in complete confusion, going like "I think Beltane's color is... blue? And... fire? Eh whatever let's just fuck." Which isn't that bad as Beltane celebrations go. But it wasn't very religious!
The summer solstice was as different from that as one state of matter is from another. I was invited, most kindly, though a connection on the Ecosophian forums, to attend a local ceremony of the AODA house church in Hillsboro. So... some professionalism was finally involved, thank god!
It was an interesting day. Less than 45 minutes before I departed for the ceremony, the family cat passed from this world. This was a complicated event for me, because I had quite frankly wished at multiple points over the previous 18 months that the cat would, please and thank you, pass from the world sooner rather than later - and it only occurred to me about two days prior that it might actually be happening. I found myself sadder than I expected, though the relief was there as well. When a life is actually ending, everyone present is forced to reflect on the past of their connection.
Zoot was a very good cat for most of her life. Her fur was soft, she had seven toes on each foot, and a cheerful and ditzy disposition. She was only a problem to us in the last 18 months because she had an undiagnosed thyroid condition. In the chaos of our move, our overcrowded household (with two other cats for a while that were even worse), and then COVID's craziness, I didn't feel like I had my feet under me enough to do anything but endure or ignore her constant, unrelenting screaming for food, which didn't change no matter how much we put in her bowl. She got fleas from being outdoors, which bit my son, so she had to stay inside with us no matter what after that. It got so bad at times, it was a literal test of my personal ethics not to throw her against the wall and kill her outright. Fortunately I was able to withstand the temptation. I never abused her, but I also never could bring myself to pet her or give her any attention either, as only some distance could keep my simmering rage at being locked into a cage with this horrible howling creature at bay. If she had been my cat, she would have been given away promptly to make the situation STOP in the kindest way possible. But of course she wasn't - she was the cat of the person allowing us to stay in his house for free.
Finally, this March, after I had wrestled through my own dark night of the soul, I put my foot down with my father (on several levels) and told him outright to take her to the vet and get tests done. Though finances weren't an issue, he had been avoiding it, because of the fear he would find something out that would make him need to put her down immediately. Sigh. I am less tender-hearted than him, and definitely loved that cat much less, but I have a greater bias toward action and a less emotional view of things. It's an interesting thing to meditate on, that in the end, I - the person most frustrated with and most distant from the cat - was the only one who had the power or insight to reduce her suffering. The thyroid condition was discovered, my father bought special food, and the yowling decreased significantly. I believe Zoot's pain level decreased greatly in the last few months of her life. Thank goodness, and thank the gods.
Her actual passing was as painless as such a thing can possibly be - she didn't want to be alone (she always was an extrovert) so she dragged herself out into the hallway and we all petted her each time we stepped over her as we went about our business. The last time my father petted her, she could no longer purr, but she slightly kneaded the air with her paws to show that she was happy.
My only regret, of course, is that I was not more tender with her when she was still alive. But I also understand why I couldn't be. Thankfully all the men of the household (I am the only woman right now!) were much more affectionate. I am relieved that they filled in where I could not. I want to believe that I did my part for her. I have found myself freed up to miss her these last few days - to be sad whenever I look at where her food bowl used to be, or her litter box. It's also undeniable that the house is more comfortable without her. But... we would have gotten along fine for months more, if that had been on offer.
Anyway! This is all just to paint the picture of where I was emotionally as I drove myself to the solstice ceremony. Despite being a straightforward distance away, I got lost several times and had to backtrack. I was quite late (30 min) and started to get anxious about this being my first impression with this group, who I desperately wanted to be on good terms with. It was an intense afternoon!
The moment I approached them, I got the impression of a friendly potluck. It was in a lovely park that I'd never visited before, with people walking their dogs and kids playing. The ceremony hadn't started yet and I cut the nice bread I'd brought and made pleasant small talk with a few of the people there. One member had brought her utterly precious three-year-old daughter, who was a big fan of the bread! She had the aura (and attitude) children get when they've never known anything but love. A little willful, but also beautifully open. I told everyone I have a little boy the same age. Her mother enthusiastically told me in turn the story of her child's miraculous conception - she'd been 43, had been told by an IVF doctor that even with treatment she had less than 1% chance to carry a child, had given up and lived her life - and then during a routine medical check-up, the nurse leaned over and said "By the way..." The pregnancy had been an amazing boon for her health, she'd even lost weight during (!), and the child was 100% healthy and 1000% precious. That type of positivity and openness to life - even in the face of serious health or economic problems others had had during this Annus Terribilus - characterized every single person in this group, as far as I could tell.
The leader (I'm not sure of his title, he has a degree in AODA though) then set up the altar and we all brought our chairs to sit in a circle around it. Luckily I'd finally gotten my hands on The Druidry Handbook a week or so before, so the incantations were familiar to me (I was able to mouth along with the others). Something only to be mentioned here - the cardinal directions on the table were not correct (north and south reversed). But no one else noticed, and I certainly wasn't about to say anything! The ceremony proceeded - four of the members were in charge of the four cardinal directions. On the altar, they had incense (Air) a lantern (Fire) a bowl of water (Water) and a bowl of dirt (Earth). The leader sat on the side with the Earth. He had a long staff and a stone he struck to move the ceremony along to the next stage. Each of the four members walked their element around the circle, then had an extended incantation related to their element, which they read off a paper. One of them actually wore a white robe - she looked great! Honestly seeing that made me want to make my own, and wear it next time :)
I'm not able to be more exact than that, because during the procedure, the adorable child was making lots of noise on the other side of the circle. Finally, in order to give the rest of the participants a bit of a break, I opened my arms and offered for her to come over. She did <3 and we cuddled together <3 It was the type of community where you could actually touch someone else's child, and give a little bit of help to a beleaguered fellow mom, and not have that be weird. Oh, my goodness, what a relief! What a blessing!! What a spotlight it shone on the horrible culture of Seattle child-raising I started off in!!! But enough of that for now...
The next part was everyone in the circle being invited to share a poem or song. I hadn't had time, given everything, to really prepare anything, so I sang "Mr. Sun" the children's song instead, the solstice being the holiday of the sun. One young man read a poem he's written which was pretty good. Not everyone was expected to participate. It was very relaxed and friendly.
Afterwards, we had a really nice potluck, and I chatted a whole bunch more with the people there! It was mostly about spiritual matters, with the rest being commentary/complaints about how crazy things have gotten lately (especially health insurance). Unfortunately I didn't quite hit everyone in conversation - I didn't have the energy. But the group were all huggers, and as they departed, I got to give them each a hug. I invited a few of the people to the event I'm hosting on July 24th as well.
Overall... I found this event deeply healing. Just to be in the presence of people who aren't afraid of COVID... my god. I'd almost forgotten what it was like! I would happily hang out with these delightful people every single weekend and eat their food.
I need to become more familiar with the rituals, though, to get more out of them on a spiritual level. But that wasn't really what I came to the event for. I came to meet other people, finally, after a long dark year. And in a sunlit meadow, next to an actual oak and a holly, I was able to do just that. I was completely satisfied.
One last comment before I wrap this up and get my kid in the bath: there's a lot to meditate on here on the similarities and differences between this ceremony, and the ones I gritted my teeth through during the times I've interacted with Unitarianism. Similarities: churchy potluck, emotional and spiritual sincerity beaming out like a laser, all white or white-identified people (it must be said). Differences: specific ritual actually calling on specific things, in this case the four elements. Symbolism was on point, instead of wishy-washy feel-good-ness. Not everyone there was a liberal (jokes were made about how many M-16s the neighbors had, from some participants). Politics were entirely unimportant. I'd say that, though their lives weren't problem-free by any means, everyone there had their emotional shit together, on balance. (Unity - my original childhood Unitarian-derived church - seemed to be almost entirely made up of people emotionally traumatized by Protestantism, attempting to heal their inner child through goofy color symbolism.) Classism! The classism was gone. I couldn't have picked out anyone's net income. The talking in circles around the environment, the very careful and precise and constantly changing language around pronouns diversity etc, I didn't hear a word of it. And I did NOT miss it, let me tell you!!
There's more to it in there - even though I didn't feel super spiritual this time, at least not in what I presume the ritual way would be, there did feel like there was a potential for spiritual presence there. I don't think I ever felt that at Unity or at UU - not at any point. (I had something closer to fear of it at Unity, if anything...) And of course that was partially to do with my attitude at the time. But perhaps there's something more to it.
Something to think about, as I finally start to walk the Eightfold Path.
To put it in context, though, the first Eightfold Path holiday I THOUGHT I would celebrate was Beltane. That turned into me perusing The Druid Magic Handbook, which I'd just gotten a few days ago, in complete confusion, going like "I think Beltane's color is... blue? And... fire? Eh whatever let's just fuck." Which isn't that bad as Beltane celebrations go. But it wasn't very religious!
The summer solstice was as different from that as one state of matter is from another. I was invited, most kindly, though a connection on the Ecosophian forums, to attend a local ceremony of the AODA house church in Hillsboro. So... some professionalism was finally involved, thank god!
It was an interesting day. Less than 45 minutes before I departed for the ceremony, the family cat passed from this world. This was a complicated event for me, because I had quite frankly wished at multiple points over the previous 18 months that the cat would, please and thank you, pass from the world sooner rather than later - and it only occurred to me about two days prior that it might actually be happening. I found myself sadder than I expected, though the relief was there as well. When a life is actually ending, everyone present is forced to reflect on the past of their connection.
Zoot was a very good cat for most of her life. Her fur was soft, she had seven toes on each foot, and a cheerful and ditzy disposition. She was only a problem to us in the last 18 months because she had an undiagnosed thyroid condition. In the chaos of our move, our overcrowded household (with two other cats for a while that were even worse), and then COVID's craziness, I didn't feel like I had my feet under me enough to do anything but endure or ignore her constant, unrelenting screaming for food, which didn't change no matter how much we put in her bowl. She got fleas from being outdoors, which bit my son, so she had to stay inside with us no matter what after that. It got so bad at times, it was a literal test of my personal ethics not to throw her against the wall and kill her outright. Fortunately I was able to withstand the temptation. I never abused her, but I also never could bring myself to pet her or give her any attention either, as only some distance could keep my simmering rage at being locked into a cage with this horrible howling creature at bay. If she had been my cat, she would have been given away promptly to make the situation STOP in the kindest way possible. But of course she wasn't - she was the cat of the person allowing us to stay in his house for free.
Finally, this March, after I had wrestled through my own dark night of the soul, I put my foot down with my father (on several levels) and told him outright to take her to the vet and get tests done. Though finances weren't an issue, he had been avoiding it, because of the fear he would find something out that would make him need to put her down immediately. Sigh. I am less tender-hearted than him, and definitely loved that cat much less, but I have a greater bias toward action and a less emotional view of things. It's an interesting thing to meditate on, that in the end, I - the person most frustrated with and most distant from the cat - was the only one who had the power or insight to reduce her suffering. The thyroid condition was discovered, my father bought special food, and the yowling decreased significantly. I believe Zoot's pain level decreased greatly in the last few months of her life. Thank goodness, and thank the gods.
Her actual passing was as painless as such a thing can possibly be - she didn't want to be alone (she always was an extrovert) so she dragged herself out into the hallway and we all petted her each time we stepped over her as we went about our business. The last time my father petted her, she could no longer purr, but she slightly kneaded the air with her paws to show that she was happy.
My only regret, of course, is that I was not more tender with her when she was still alive. But I also understand why I couldn't be. Thankfully all the men of the household (I am the only woman right now!) were much more affectionate. I am relieved that they filled in where I could not. I want to believe that I did my part for her. I have found myself freed up to miss her these last few days - to be sad whenever I look at where her food bowl used to be, or her litter box. It's also undeniable that the house is more comfortable without her. But... we would have gotten along fine for months more, if that had been on offer.
Anyway! This is all just to paint the picture of where I was emotionally as I drove myself to the solstice ceremony. Despite being a straightforward distance away, I got lost several times and had to backtrack. I was quite late (30 min) and started to get anxious about this being my first impression with this group, who I desperately wanted to be on good terms with. It was an intense afternoon!
The moment I approached them, I got the impression of a friendly potluck. It was in a lovely park that I'd never visited before, with people walking their dogs and kids playing. The ceremony hadn't started yet and I cut the nice bread I'd brought and made pleasant small talk with a few of the people there. One member had brought her utterly precious three-year-old daughter, who was a big fan of the bread! She had the aura (and attitude) children get when they've never known anything but love. A little willful, but also beautifully open. I told everyone I have a little boy the same age. Her mother enthusiastically told me in turn the story of her child's miraculous conception - she'd been 43, had been told by an IVF doctor that even with treatment she had less than 1% chance to carry a child, had given up and lived her life - and then during a routine medical check-up, the nurse leaned over and said "By the way..." The pregnancy had been an amazing boon for her health, she'd even lost weight during (!), and the child was 100% healthy and 1000% precious. That type of positivity and openness to life - even in the face of serious health or economic problems others had had during this Annus Terribilus - characterized every single person in this group, as far as I could tell.
The leader (I'm not sure of his title, he has a degree in AODA though) then set up the altar and we all brought our chairs to sit in a circle around it. Luckily I'd finally gotten my hands on The Druidry Handbook a week or so before, so the incantations were familiar to me (I was able to mouth along with the others). Something only to be mentioned here - the cardinal directions on the table were not correct (north and south reversed). But no one else noticed, and I certainly wasn't about to say anything! The ceremony proceeded - four of the members were in charge of the four cardinal directions. On the altar, they had incense (Air) a lantern (Fire) a bowl of water (Water) and a bowl of dirt (Earth). The leader sat on the side with the Earth. He had a long staff and a stone he struck to move the ceremony along to the next stage. Each of the four members walked their element around the circle, then had an extended incantation related to their element, which they read off a paper. One of them actually wore a white robe - she looked great! Honestly seeing that made me want to make my own, and wear it next time :)
I'm not able to be more exact than that, because during the procedure, the adorable child was making lots of noise on the other side of the circle. Finally, in order to give the rest of the participants a bit of a break, I opened my arms and offered for her to come over. She did <3 and we cuddled together <3 It was the type of community where you could actually touch someone else's child, and give a little bit of help to a beleaguered fellow mom, and not have that be weird. Oh, my goodness, what a relief! What a blessing!! What a spotlight it shone on the horrible culture of Seattle child-raising I started off in!!! But enough of that for now...
The next part was everyone in the circle being invited to share a poem or song. I hadn't had time, given everything, to really prepare anything, so I sang "Mr. Sun" the children's song instead, the solstice being the holiday of the sun. One young man read a poem he's written which was pretty good. Not everyone was expected to participate. It was very relaxed and friendly.
Afterwards, we had a really nice potluck, and I chatted a whole bunch more with the people there! It was mostly about spiritual matters, with the rest being commentary/complaints about how crazy things have gotten lately (especially health insurance). Unfortunately I didn't quite hit everyone in conversation - I didn't have the energy. But the group were all huggers, and as they departed, I got to give them each a hug. I invited a few of the people to the event I'm hosting on July 24th as well.
Overall... I found this event deeply healing. Just to be in the presence of people who aren't afraid of COVID... my god. I'd almost forgotten what it was like! I would happily hang out with these delightful people every single weekend and eat their food.
I need to become more familiar with the rituals, though, to get more out of them on a spiritual level. But that wasn't really what I came to the event for. I came to meet other people, finally, after a long dark year. And in a sunlit meadow, next to an actual oak and a holly, I was able to do just that. I was completely satisfied.
One last comment before I wrap this up and get my kid in the bath: there's a lot to meditate on here on the similarities and differences between this ceremony, and the ones I gritted my teeth through during the times I've interacted with Unitarianism. Similarities: churchy potluck, emotional and spiritual sincerity beaming out like a laser, all white or white-identified people (it must be said). Differences: specific ritual actually calling on specific things, in this case the four elements. Symbolism was on point, instead of wishy-washy feel-good-ness. Not everyone there was a liberal (jokes were made about how many M-16s the neighbors had, from some participants). Politics were entirely unimportant. I'd say that, though their lives weren't problem-free by any means, everyone there had their emotional shit together, on balance. (Unity - my original childhood Unitarian-derived church - seemed to be almost entirely made up of people emotionally traumatized by Protestantism, attempting to heal their inner child through goofy color symbolism.) Classism! The classism was gone. I couldn't have picked out anyone's net income. The talking in circles around the environment, the very careful and precise and constantly changing language around pronouns diversity etc, I didn't hear a word of it. And I did NOT miss it, let me tell you!!
There's more to it in there - even though I didn't feel super spiritual this time, at least not in what I presume the ritual way would be, there did feel like there was a potential for spiritual presence there. I don't think I ever felt that at Unity or at UU - not at any point. (I had something closer to fear of it at Unity, if anything...) And of course that was partially to do with my attitude at the time. But perhaps there's something more to it.
Something to think about, as I finally start to walk the Eightfold Path.