Mabon--The Second Harvest

The seasons are shifting. The air is still hot and muggy, but every day the sun sets earlier. On the fringes of the woods, the first leaves turn yellow. Honey-rich Autumn light plays across cornfields where tassels and ears are stiff and brown.  Like delinquent children, our pumpkin vines have  run rampant  across our yard.  But  the vines are yellowing now and plump, orange pumpkins   nestle in high grass speckled with Goldenrod and Aster.  Soon, we'll cut the withered cords, store them in the root cellar, and make our annual pilgrimage to Schober's orchard so that we can make applesauce from crisp, fresh picked  Honey Crisps, Empire, Braeburns, and Gingergolds.

As the days shorten,  we move  away from long weekends at the beach and  transition  into school and work routines.

Luckily, Mabon (the Autumn Equinox)  reminds us of the need to find balance even as we transition --to let go of some things to make way for others that fit this season of our lives.  The Second Harvest is a time to rejoice and give thanks for nature's bounty and all that is fruitful and positive in our lives.

But even as we celebrate abundance,  we know that The Wheel of The Year will turn toward darkness, cold, scarcity, and death.  The bountiful Mother WILL become the wise Crone.   Knowing this,  we embrace  duality--the abundance and beauty of this day, this time as well the knowledge that soon the earth will become barren and that--like falling leaves-- we must let go of  those parts of our lives that we have outgrown--to look within and discern and embrace the darkness without which light would have no meaning.

KICKSTARTER PROPOSAL IS UP !!

Great news!! Our Kickstarter proposal is up and running please check it out and help get Solstice Sun Solstice Moon published.

http://www.kickstarter.com/projects/1462174029/solstice-moon-solstice-sun-0

drawing for book

Some words on Solstice/Yule traditions behind Solstice Moon, Solstice Sun

The Winter Solstice/Yule is the time of greatest darkness and the longest night of the year. Pagans in the Northern Hemisphere celebrate the Winter Solstice/Yule between December 20-23 when the dark half of the year gives way to the light half (for those in the Southern Hemisphere, the longest day of the year will come in December).  


For those of us who live in the Northern Hemisphere, the Winter Solstice marks the turning point when the days begin to grow longer. Starting the next morning at sunrise, the sun climbs just a little higher and stays a little longer in the sky each day. 


At the Solstice itself,  the sun appears to stand still in the sky for a few days before and after (from the Latin for sun + to stand still). People from many different cultures have held solstice celebrations for thousands of years. For our distant ancestors, dependent on hunting, gathering, and growing, the seasons and the weather played a central role in their lives.

The Winter Solstice featured the birth of a "Divine King" long before the rise of Christianity. Since the Sun is considered to represent the Male Divinity in many Pagan traditions, this time is celebrated as the "return of the Sun God" where He is reborn of the Goddess.

 At Solstice/Yule, Pagans celebrate the end of the Holly King's reign and the rebirth of the Oak King, the Sun King, the Giver of Life that warmed the frozen Earth and made her to bear forth from seeds protected through the fall and winter in her womb.   

Hail the Hail-

 My daughter stands in the wind
-- hair flung in strands--
 like a figurehead come to life
riding the crest of the storm
  I fear her recklessness and long to join her
as I herd the youngster to the porch.
But she has traveled beyond the safety of my arms
 onto a stage
where dark cloud curtains, part swirl,
mound cell upon cell;
She sways with the wind that parts the meadow grass
unafraid of the consequences of her stance,
partakes in the summoning
  of heat, light, thunder.
She moves with the elements lost and found in their fury.
 Wind howls through branches. 
Rain and hail bounce and  clatter on the roof
 strike her, cool her, bruise her.
And still she stands
wrapped in a blanket of her own making.
I want to call to her, but stop.
The storm is hers to claim
As it is mine to reject
until it rumbles and mutters toward the east.

Signs

We are still in the throes of  of getting our Kickstarter proposal together.  It would probably help A LOT if one of us had gone to film school or at least taken a few courses...or really read the instructions on how to use Ellen's friend's camera.  At any rate, as usual,  we are learning by doing and are determined to put out a great presentation that will let us reach our goal and publish a beautiful product.  

 Our economies are crashing and tragedy surrounds us.  But, in this microcosm it is a clear, beautiful August morning.  The cicadas are droning in the arborvitae and a balmy breeze is wafting through my window.  In the garden many of the pumpkins are already orange and the tassels on Colleen's quorum of corn plants are turning brown.  It's the kind of  summer day that I can  sink into and and appreciate the gift of my life in this here and now.  After 52  years on the planet I've learned to embrace that ol'  truism "stop and smell the roses."