SUMMER SOLSTICE

What began as a way to include all of my scattered family and friends into one holiday, I began celebrating the Winter Solstice. That was decades ago. Most everyone shook their collective heads and smiled at each other, but went along with it. They knew I was serious and seriously drawn to the darker days of the season. What many didn't get was that the dark has its own light. (And, to see ANY light,or sparkle, or brilliant star, one needs the dark.) For me, Winter Solstice is as close to being a perfect holiday (or holy day) as a human can get. The only religious connection is Spirituality. And the only Spirituality connects Mother Earth to Father Heaven in the most wondrous ways.

Summer Solstice had a lesser pull on me. For one who loves the night, or has trouble even falling asleep, the prospect of the longest day of the year isn't a natural fit. However, it, too, tugs at me like the High Holy Days must to others. I just don't feel right if I don't mark its passing in some way. Sometimes it's been a freezing dunk headlong into the ocean; other times it's been a long backpack into the desert or the forest; listening to birds instead of traffic. Sniffing pine tree sap instead of bus fumes. A few times I've simply lit a smudge-pot filled with ceder shavings and sweetgrass and watched the clean smoke rise. (Reminding me of Sacred Heart School prayer intentions--written on tiny scraps of paper, in class, under the scrutiny of a nun, then burned in an iron container, while the whole school looked on. We'd been taught that whatever intentions were on those scraps were going directly to God, in the guise of smoke signals. I always prayed to be able to fly--without a plane. It never happened. At least not yet.)

One summer, there was an eclipse, and I took out every crystal I owned and let the sun pass over them, infusing them with an energy that sent them off, as gifts, to whomever seemed to need them over the years. This Solstice, I decided to light a daytime candle. It's also the one I burned on my birthday.(Connection in a positive "light" to the rest of the natal year, I hope.) It's flame flickers in the summer breeze, next to the window facing Detroit Street, even as I write.

This is a peaceful holy day. Less rambunctious than fourth of July, or Memorial Day. It opens summer up, like a ripe watermelon, if you will allow it to. It makes one take stock of the idea of "the longest day". What might that hold? How will you spend it? (What will I choose to do?)

I think I will do what always fills me: write, paint, play music, think of family and friends and pray for the World. Besides lighting the daytime candle, I will also eat some watermelon and corn on the cob. Maybe beans. I'll drink sweet iced tea and daydream of lilacs. I'll try not to sweat the small stuff. Just breathe. Just breathe.

Here's wishing everyone everywhere a Happy Summer Solstice--and beyond.