Category Archives: Great Wheel

First First

Winter                                                                          Cold Moon

Kate premiered as both lyricist/poet and sung song writer.  She wrote the following to the words of the passover song, Dayenu.  We sang it today during the service at Groveland.

 

Refrain:            Di-di-urnal              di-di-urnal

di-di-urnal,  di-di-urnal,  di-urnal,  di-urnal:[[  di-urnal, time has come

 

 

Circles come and circles go round

Life eternal, everlasting

Everlasting, life eternal

Diurnal  (refrain)

Season come and seasons go round

Spring and summer, fall and winter

Winter, autumn, summer and spring.

Diurnal

Spring has come and life awakens

Time to get the garden ready

The ground is turned, seeds are planted

Diurnal

Summer comes and brings warm weather

Flowers bloom and insects hover

The crops grow big and bear their fruit.

Diurnal

Autumn comes and brings the ripening

Apples are crisp, berries are sweet

Harvest starts with food preserving.

Diurnal

Winter comes, the earth goes to sleep

Time for reflecting, memories sweet

The cycle ends, new one begins.

Diurnal

Circles come and circles go round

Life eternal, everlasting

Everlasting, life eternal

Diurnal

Living in Season

Winter                                                               Cold Moon

Winter is upon us.  Beginning to give more thought time to my Living in Season presentation for Groveland on the 27th.  The short version is this:  learning to adapt your life to the season, rather than the seasons to your life.  I mean this on at least two levels: the literal and the metaphorical.

(A seasonal round.  This is a new idea to me, but I like it a lot.)

The literal can include such things as caring for plants outside during the growing season.  Maybe in a container, a window box.  Maybe in a flower bed or a vegetable garden.  Could be an orchard or a woods.  Maybe a community garden.  Something to synch up at least part of your daily life with the emergence of plants from winter’s fallow time.

It can also include intentionally leaving time in your winter schedule for retreats, inside projects like crafts or writing or visiting friends.

Perhaps in all the seasons hiking might be part of your plan, a liturgical response similar in all seasons but changed by them in profound ways.  If you can’t hike, get someone to help you be outside some amount of time each week.  Yes, even in the dreaded middle weeks of January.

Metaphorical:  first, know which season of your life you are in.  Are you college age, in the still vigorous growth years?  Or, are you in the mature years, the years of the late growing season, the early harvest days?  Or, like me, are you in the days of the late harvest, headed toward the long, eternal fallow time?

Here, too, we can find analogical help from living in season.  When sun and rain and warm temperatures push a plant up, up, up, perhaps that time right around flowering, then it must attend as well to its roots, not forgetting the stabilizing and nutrient gathering powers of those underneath surface parts.  So, for example, when college and the world of work begins to beckon, as graduation nears and your own unique bloom begins to present itself to the universe at large, this may be a time to recall hometown, old friends, family.  Favorite hobbies and pets and places.  It may seem that these people and places hold you back, hold you down, are heavy anchors weighted to yesterday.  But, no.  Instead these are the anchors in the deep subsoil of your life that hold you up, feed those parts of you that remember the child you once were, remind you of the long strengths that balance the new, shiny ones obtained through education.

Anyhow, stuff like that.  More by the 27th.

A Sabbatical

Winter                                                                    Moon of the Winter Solstice

Winding down.  Last two days of tours.  A vast stretch of mornings between next Monday and July 1st.  I’m excited.  Rewriting.  Writing.  Marketing.  Lots to do.

One outdoor to do over the next few months.  Get out in Anoka county.  Hike.  Take pictures.  Make some phenological observation.  Maybe take a week plus somewhere, hiking from a cabin or perhaps, if I can find one, a trail going from inn to inn.  I’m feeling the need for some natural rejuvenation.  Not cities.  Not books.  Not movies.  Not art.

Mostly though I want to lean into the writing.  Make it as full time as I can.

Considering the Lilies of Our Fields

Winter                                                                  Moon of the Winter Solstice

Greens.  Peppers, especially those sweet hot peppers.  Leeks.  Garlic.  Onions.  Shallots.  Beets.  Collard greens.  Tomatoes.  Carrots.  Herbs.  Then, we’ll have the apples, plums, cherries, pears, raspberries, strawberries, goose berries, currants, wild grapes.  And honey.  That’s our plan for next year.  Most of it anyhow.  We’ll probably sneak a few things in just to see what happens.

Three or four years ago we began a gradual winding down of the flower beds as annual events, turning them gradually toward perennials following one another, growing on their own.  We have to do some major work this spring along those lines, especially the garden bed on the house side of our front path.  That one I’ll dig out, amend the soil, and replant altogether.  Gonna take out the Viburnum.  It’s never done well.

We have pruning to do yet this winter.  And I still have more trees to fell.  Winter’s a good time for both.

There is, too, the fire pit and its immediate surround.  Mark helped us on the fire pit when he was here.  This year it will become functional.

Indulging the mid-winter sport of garden planning.  An indoor prelude to the outdoor music of the growing season.

The New Year? Says Who?

Winter                                                          Moon of the Winter Solstice

The new year.  An interesting idea, if you to stop to consider it.  In those parts of the world like ours, the temperate zone that runs in the middle latitudes between the poles (generally), we have more or less four seasons:  spring, summer, autumn and winter.  Even those distinctions are arbitrary, a fact proved by the concept of meteorological spring, summer, autumn and winter which divide the year in four parts by average temperature.  They do not coincide with customary dates like May, September, December, March.

Instead, even in the temperate zones, the earth’s position relative to the sun changes gradually, modulating the amount of solar energy any given square meter of surface receives and thereby modulating heat and cold.  This gradual change has its peaks and valleys and because plants have adapted their life cycles to this gradual change we celebrate, with plant life as a proxy for the astronomical, seasons.

The seasons relate to the status of the plant world.  Right now, plant life is in a fallow time, made necessary by limited sun light and rapidly varying temperatures very often below the freezing point of water.  So we turn away from the agricultural and the horticultural to our life inside our dens.  Later, as the solar energy available increases, the plants will begin to appear from their winter safety and we will engage them again.

When in this cycle does the new year begin?  Take your pick.  The Celts, somewhat counter-intuitively for us today, said the New Year began at the growing season’s final moment, Summer’s End or Samhain.  Many cultures, the Chinese still and European culture until the 18th century, saw the beginning of a new year in the quickening of the plant world or the signs that it would happen soon.

Whatever cues you take from the plant world, January 1st is an outlier.  It has no obvious astronomical or horticultural logic, no roots in culture other than, it appears, the Roman pantheon of Julius Caesar’s day.  He was, you might recall, the one who created the modern calender now in use globally.  The Gregorian modification to the Julian calendar made the calendar work with the slightly more than 365 day year we get from our journey around the sun.

But it was Caesar who decreed that January, named after the god Janus who famously looked backwards and forwards, was the logical time for the change of a year.  Logical only in Caesar’s mind, but even today the Roman dictator still has his way with the world.

As this article in Wikipedia shows, you can celebrate New Year’s at several points throughout the year, so, I guess, today’s as good any of those. Happy New Year!  For now.

13 Baktun

Winter                                                               Moon of the Winter Solstice

Another take on the end of the world.  Embrace it.  A website I saw suggested that the world did end on the 22nd.  The Mayan long count, 12 Baktun*, did roll round and stop.

But.  Only to start over again.  13 Baktun started on the Winter Solstice according to the article cited below.

So, we have just begun a new cycle of 394.26 tropical years.  This Winter Solstice was closer to the millennial transition than either New Year’s or even the turn of a century.

How will your life be different in the 13th Baktun?  Like me, you’ve lived all of yours in the 12th.  Those of born before 2000 are in a unique position in that we have lived through a centennial transition, a millennial transition and now a Baktunal transition.

Of course, if you’re a die hard rationalist you’ll note that one Baktun is like any other.  Well, maybe so, but they do give us, these chronological inflection points, opportunities to look back and assess and to look forward and hope.  Not a bad thing.

Why not give it a shot?  In my case I can look back over the 65 years spent in this last Baktun, my whole life, and consider its arc.  I can look forward to spending all the remaining years of my life in the 13th Baktun.  That means my aging will occur in a brand new chunk of time.  A chunk of time that I can influence as an elder, perhaps give it a positive shove before I return my atoms to the universe.

And, yes, I also embrace the circular, never-ending, achronological great wheel in which the seasons come and go talking of Michelangelo. On the great wheel of my life I have just passed Summer’s End this year, moving into the great fallow season.  There too my task is to prepare the ground for the next spring, that spring when I am a memory.

What will you do with your next Baktun?

 

 

 

 

 

*Wikipedia.  A baktun (properly b’ak’tun, English pronunciation: /ˈbɑk ˌtun/[1], Mayan pronunciation: [ɓakʼ ˈtun]) is 20 katun cycles of the ancient Maya Long Count Calendar. It contains 144,000 days, equal to 394.26 tropical years. The Classic period of Maya civilization occurred during the 8th and 9th baktuns of the current calendrical cycle. The current baktun started on 13.0.0.0.0 — December 21, 2012 using the GMT correlation.

Saturday

Winter                                                            Moon of the Winter Solstice

The long night has come and gone.  The days have begun to grow longer, even if only by seconds.  I’ll be happy to see the first flowers of spring, the bees coming and going again, the garlic pushing its way through the mulch; of course I will, but that is in its season.  The season now is one of cold and darkness and I like it, too.

I have done my first compilation of Missing.  It’s 110,000 words.  A 320 page paperback, roughly.  Using Scrivener makes the process of creating a manuscript from many different documents pretty easy.  That’s not to say the first compilation is what I want.  It’s not.  Not quite.  So, I’ll have to spend some time fussing with it tomorrow, but I don’t think it will too long to get one that pleases me.

On the downside I got so into this task and my workout that followed that I missed signals from Kate that she was locked out.  Our garage door opener had quit working; she left it here and went out to do her nails.  When she came back, I was already working out and she couldn’t get in.  She was pretty steamed when she did.  She slogged through the snow in her clogs.  Not a happy camper at all.

 

End of the 13th Baktun

Winter                                                             Moon of the Winter Solstice

Well.  Here we are.  Forced to go on with the mundane and the profound, the profane and the sacred with no surcease from an apocalypse.  Eschatologists take note:  another in a long line of misses.

We now have articles in the newspaper debating the pros and cons of our weakening winter season.  There is no doubt that the ease of travel is a marked pro.  But the cons pile up faster than little snow, big snow.  No majesty out the window.  No sense of special endurance, Minnesota macho.  No chance to spend time in the woods on snow shoes or cross-country skis.  Of course, that brings me to another pro:  no snow-mobiles driving across our front yard.

Now that winter the holyday has come upon us Christmas cannot be far behind.  And, in fact, it lies out there, next Tuesday.  We have no tree, no decorations, no Christmas music here.  The menorah is put away until next year.  My holiday seasonal spirit has more to do with darkness that it does lights and presents.  Definitely an alt-holiday experience here in the outer burbs.

Can any reader predict the next end of the world?  I mean, what will we fret about next?

Winter Solstice, 2012

Winter Solstice                                                           Moon of the Winter Solstice

It’s here.  It’s here.  It’s finally here.  The longest night.  The sun has begun to set and the darkness will be with us for 15 hours and 14 minutes.  Had we been a resident of the British Isles or somewhere in Scandinavia, it would have been even longer. (and is, today.)  It’s no surprise then, that in the old religions of these countries that the Winter Solstice took on an ominous portent.

(source)

Think about it.  The last crop had come in at least two months ago, probably longer.  There was no prospect of a growing season even starting until the next April or early May.  And the nights had begun to grow longer and longer.  As the cold grew more intense and the daylight diminished, it could seem possible that never again would the ground be warm, the plants green.  You and your children might starve.

Yes, so far the sun had always returned but what would happen if the gods who controlled its coming and going no longer desired its return?  The gods lived in their own ways and to their own designs.  It could easily happen that we humans were not included.

So for some the Winter Solstice became a season of dread, followed by an increasing sense of relief as the sun escaped whatever was holding it back and began to ascend once again for a longer time each day.  Thank the gods.

You know the stories about holidays of light, those holidays that both reassure and, through principles of sympathetic magic, lure the sun back from its melancholy.

There is, however, another way to come to this long night.  This way takes the long night as good as the longest days of the Summer Solstice.  It celebrates the darkness, that fecund place where babies grow, bulbs germinate and creativity unfolds.

It sees this night as different from all other nights in that we set it aside as a holynight, a night that stands in for all other nights, for all those moments of darkness when richness and life and new beginnings collect, gather strength.

Yes, of course, we need the light.  The growing season.  The warmth.  And that time has it holyday, the Summer Solstice.  A celebration of light and fire and the profusion of plant life.

It may be harder to celebrate the dark.  It frightens us sometimes, reminds us of the coming darkness in which the sun will never again rise.  And of those for whom such time has already come.  There is no shame in this fear; it is universal.

But note this.  It especially cannot be assuaged by the message of Sol Invictus, the all conquering sun.  The darkness is coming, for each and every one of us.  Far more powerful then to embrace the darkness, not as over against life and the human spirit, but as friend, as necessary companion.

This is the darkness I celebrate tonight, the longest darkness of year.

 

 

Considering the Massacre of the Innocents

Samhain                                                                Moon of the Winter Solstice

Since Christmas is a festival of the incarnation, a festival of a great God becoming human in the form of a baby, we can take this wonderful mythic idea and use it, especially now, as a filter for the news around us.

(Egon Schiele, Death and the Maiden)

Think of it.  Each baby born a potential or an actual god.  Each one.  How might we know?  Who’s to say?  A great God, an omnipotent God, could conceivably inhabit as many babies as ever are born.  So, it’s possible we might be wrong if we judge a child to be not a God.  We might even misjudge ourselves.

How would this perspective change your life?  Have you ever considered that you might be a god or a goddess?  How would you know?  Not sure.  The baby we’re talking about grew up to be a guy, a carpenter, then the ruling authorities arrested him as a troublemaker and executed him.  If that’s the profile, it might fit a good many of us, even those of us not fortunate to be so threatening to the status quo that we go through life with no fear of arrest or execution.

It seems we ought to err on the side of caution.  That is, each person born, each infant is not a child of god, but a god themselves.  We could then practice the Indian namaste, roughly, the god in me bows to the god in you.  How about that for a holiday ritual?

Looking for the gods and goddesses in your lives and acknowledging them with folded hands, a slight bow and namaste.  Might be good.

Then, of course, we have to parse out the killing of all the children.  How could we do that?