Category Archives: Myth and Story

Mabon (Fall) 2009

Fall                               Waxing Blood Moon

Equinox.  Today is the fall equinox.  In spring we celebrate the shift towards yet more light and warmth as the trend toward lengthened days sees daylight overtaking the night.   Now the shift has a different, more somber direction.  At the Summer Solstice the hours of daylight began to shrink in relation to the hours of darkness.  At this equinox the night begins to predominate, an acceleration that will reach its peak at the Winter Solstice.

Contemporary Wiccans (some at least) call this equinox Mabon and see it as the final harvest festival.  My own understanding and practice sees Mabon as the second of three harvest festivals:  Lughnasa (ended yesterday), Mabon and Samhain (Summer’s End).  Here on the 45th latitude the gardening year does begin to wind down now.

On farms, however, the corn harvest lasts well into October and even in our garden we have carrots, parsnip, garlic and potatoes still in the ground.   In the ancient British Isles the end of summer meant deciding how much livestock you could feed through the winter.   If there was too little food for your herd, a certain number of animals would be slaughtered and their meat prepared to sustain the family over the winter.

In either case though the fall equinox is the moment when the Great Wheel takes a decisive turn toward darkness.  That shift, along with the senescence in the garden and in the trees and fields, makes this an appropriate time for taking stock.  Kate and I are in the midst of preserving through canning, drying and storing the fruits of our summer’s work.  Grain and corn gets driven to the cathedrals of the plains in open trucks filled to the brim with yellow or golden seeds.  The elevators fill up as does our newly built store room.

On a personal level this turn of the Great Wheel offers us a similar opportunity, that is, a time to take stock of the summer, the last year, even the course of our life.   Experience the joy of taking in to yourself the fruits you have harvested as a result of your own hard work.  Yes, money may be a part of that, but it is not the most important.  How have you increased in wisdom?  Have you and a significant other grown in your relationship?  Has a relationship that needed to come to an end done so and allowed you to move into a new phase of life?

This is a wonderful festival for gratitude.  In fact, if you do nothing else to acknowledge this transition, take a moment to make a list of people and things for which you are grateful.  You could take this one step further and make others in your life aware of your gratitude.

Finally, on a life level, the Great Wheel’s turn at Mabon symbolizes the autumn of our lives.  If this is where you are on your ancient trail, Mabon prompts you to consider the gifts and lessons we have embraced along the way.  The Great Wheel turns toward the final harvest, that day when we will be gathered up into the abundance from which we came and to which we return.  Present to us now that the years ahead are fewer than the ones behind this knowledge can enrich these autumnal days.  Life becomes more precious, an experience to be savored, lingered over, greeted with joy hour by hour, day by day.

In the end the Wild Hunt comes for all of us, the just and the unjust.  The Great Wheel teaches us that even after it comes, life will go on and that, in some fashion, we will all be part of it.  Come to think of it, this may be my best answer to the question about the after life.

Quieter Dogs

Summer                        Waxing Green Corn Moon

Kate’s plane is in the air, but 30 minutes or so late.  I’ll leave in a bit to pick her up.  It’s a long hike to the airport from here.

The dogs have not been noisy today.  Daddy was home.

Yesterday, via Netflix, I finished the first season of TrueBlood.  My fascination with horror, monsters and science fiction has been lifelong and I imagine it will be with me when I head out on my 49 day journey to the next adventure.  As an HBO program, TrueBlood takes full advantage of a sub-genre of horror, the vampire romance.   There is sex, betrayal, monsters and demons of the night and a lot of Cajun country atomspherics.  The one  true Cajun speaker in the first year turned out to be a fake, however, and a murderer.  There was an audio tape, Cajun dialect for Actors, in his affects.

It’s A Beautiful World

Beltane              Waning Flower Moon

Hilton Head Island, S.C.

Kate and I went out to the Jazz Corner tonight.  We listened to the Earl Williams Blues Band.  They were excellent musicians.  Earl played New Orleans most of his life and his patter, his stage presence made us laugh, drew us into his songs.

He happened to meet Kate and me at the door.  He introduced himself, “I’ll be playing the music tonight.”  I asked him what he played and he gave a list of instruments not all of which I recognized.  I knew the saxophone(s), the harmonica, but the occa and others I had not heard.

Near the end of the first set Earl turned to Kate and me, said, “I’d like to dedicate this next song to Katie and Charlie Ellis.  From Minnesota.  They drove all day just to be here tonight!”  He then gave a credible imitation of Louis Armstrong singing his It’s a Wonderful World.

We had table for two against the wall, the furthest toward the front.  At one point, engrossed in the music, following it with my heart, a realization popped into mind.

We were in a setting very similar to Max Beckman’s Blind Man’s Buff.  In that tryptych, which hangs in the Minneapolis Institute of Art, the center panel has a band playing in a cabaret setting.  The side panels have cabaret patrons in various enigmatic poses.

Beckman said the band in the center are the gods playing.  I imagine them playing the world into existence.  We sat off to one side, in one of the panels.  In that situation the other panel would have people far across the room from us.  We listened to the same music, sat in the same cafe, but we could not communicate.

The world at the end of World War II had many people in the same cafe, listening to the same music and unable to communicate.

A Mist of the Otherworld

Beltane                   Waxing Flower Moon

Beets.  Carrots planted.  Beds all planned.  Kate’s taken off all the wire surrounds for our fruit orchard and begun eliminating quack within the mounds around them; the mounds filled with guild plants to sustain the trees.  This afternoon I will round-up the quack in the areas around the mounds, then plan to seed it next week.

Seeds.  Plants.  Reproduction and renewal.  Resurrection.  Reincarnation.  No wonder the garden has a mist of the Otherworld.  It reeks of life at its most survival oriented and at its most elegant, beautiful.  We see there the possibility of our own resurrection, planted too in the soil, awaiting a springtime for the soul.

Can we draw an analogy from the garden to our Selves?  We can’t help it.  Whether it translates to our experience or not, we intuit that it does.  I’m for the intuitive.  It just make intuitive sense.

Hermes, the Psychopomp

Spring        Waning Seed Moon

As the pace of physical activity picks up, I find my melancholy of a couple of weeks ago beginning to subside.  It triggered a yearning for a return to full time writing and an investigation into agency and its role in my regression, so it gave me a valuable perspective, one I had lost.

James Hillman says we meet the gods in our pathologies.  Hermes has guided me into the psyche of my past and then, Ariadne-like, also led me back to the present.  Now Brigid inspires me–the garden, the writing.  She is my domestic goddess (and not competitive at all with the fleshly one in my Kate).

I’ll light a candle for her at Beltane, not long from now, and dance around an ash, one that grows tall in our vegetable garden.  When the work moves within me and I follow its rhythm, it is Brigid who holds my hand.

Imbolc: The Great Wheel Turns

Imbolc  Waxing Wild Moon

Imbolc.  The celebration of lamb’s in the belly, imbolc and the festival honoring Brighid*. (see information below from the Encyclopedia Mythica.This is my favorite web source for quick, accurate information about Gods and Goddesses.)

When I came back to my Celtic roots during my transition out of the Presbyterian Ministry (the state church of a Celtic country), Brighid became central to the spirituality I began to develop.  As a fire goddess, her Imbolc celebration symbolizes the quickening of the earth as the reign of the Caillieach, the crone, recedes under the sun’s (fire) unrelenting return.

As a fire goddess, the blacksmiths worshiped her, as did the housewife with her hearth-fire and the poet, the filid and the bard, roles critical to ancient Celtic society.   Brighid inspired the poets.  Thus, she supported craftspersons, domestic life and the spark of genius that kept kings and the ruling class in check and still gives Ireland fame in letters to this day.  She became associated with fertility, hence the ewe and the lamb in the belly.

In one interpretation of the Great Wheel, the earth goes through three phases:  the first, or the virgin/maiden takes prominence with the beginning of the agricultural year, Imbolc.  The second, the Mother, takes the God as her husband at Beltane (May 1) and reigns over the growing season.  As the harvest comes in the Cailleach, the old woman or crone, takes charge.  The year proceeds in this way through virignity, motherhood and old age; a procession repeated over and over, as this archetypal linking of the year and the maturation of humanity repeats over and over in human society.

On this February 1st, as the business cycle continues its skid, the Great Wheel can teach us that the cyclical nature of human events will right this plunge and prosperity, too, will return.  You might see the business cycle as going through its crone phase, except the crone was a wise woman and as near I can tell this phase of the business cycle represents foolish men.

Time has many puzzling aspects, not the least is its appearance of linearity while we experience, too, and more profoundly, its cycles.  I see the cyclical nature of time as more true to my experience and more hopeful.  The Great Wheel, the natural cycle, does not require a cataclysm at the end to right injustice and imbalance, as do faith traditions invested in chronological time.  Each year each season brings its own opportunities for renewal, for celebration and each season is only that, a season.  In regular succession the next season will come.

I used to close my e-mails with this quote I discovered carved into the Arbor Day Lodge wooden border in its reception atrium:

There is something infinitely healing in the repeated refrain of nature–the assurance that dawn comes after night, spring after winter.    Rachel Carson

This is the great and wonderful gift the Great Wheel can bring to your life, if you let it. Continue reading Imbolc: The Great Wheel Turns

Brooding Over the Landscape

Winter

Waning Wolf Moon

(note:  Weather reporting has moved to the Star-Tribune WeatherBlogs and my two weather websites, all of these have links under Andover Weather + on the right hand side bar.)

Last night I watched a bit of the Ravens and the Steelers.  As a Midwesterner my sympathies were with the rust bucket team from the Steel City.  They won. Now I have a half-hearted dog in the superbowl.  No, wait.  That was Michael Vick.  Anyhow.

Weather has become unremarkable.  Ordinary, garden variety winter in gray clothes, brooding over the landscape.  Though the temperature is more bearable, 10 degrees feels quite nice, the weather itself has taken on a dull tone.  We like variety here in the Upper Midwest and  our position in the center of North America gives it to us.  There are no mountains or oceans here to mediate or moderate; we get what rolls down from the north or blows up from the Gulf or over from the west.

We thrive on change.  When the weather becomes dull, it throws us back on other projects like work or chores.  Come on sky!

I wrote four pages yesterday on Red Earth, my first person account of what it was like to become Adam.  More today.

Of late, I’ve begun waking up at 6:00 AM.  I do not want to get up until 7:00 AM, that’s the whole point of my new routine.  At least for now I’ve chosen to lie there and think.   It’s quiet, I’m fully rested and an hours worth of thought seems a useful way to occupy myself until 7:00 AM.

Now onto the mind of Adam.

I Have Not Mentioned Adam

5  rises 29.92  NWN0  windchill 5  Winter

Waning Wolf Moon

A full day Permaculture workshop.  This guy, who takes a nap every day around 1pm, suffers in mid-day at day long events.  In addition, I find that my mind gets overloaded, takes in too much.  It’s not that I can’t absorb and eventually integrate the material, but the pace of absorption has changed over time.  I need space between intake and digestion.  A day’s worth of basically new material wears me out.

When I came back, Kate asked me what I’d learned and I had troubling with a clear answer.  The exhaustion played a factor, yes, but the tumbling pieces, the changing paragdigms and the altogether novel still raced around inside, had not come down to a place of rest. Tomorrow, next week.  Better.

Rest tonight.  Then I’ll work on Adam tomorrow.  I haven’t mentioned Adam yet, have I?  He’s taken over my thinking lately. What was it like, I wondered?  What was it like to wake up, come to consciousness, breathe that first breath? What happened in the mind and heart of Adam when God blew into his nostrils?

Hey! You! Help Me Write My Piece On American Identity

I’d appreciate any comments on the notion of American identity:  what is it?  who has it?  should all Americans have it?  Do all Americans have it?  What is the American sine qua non?  Can we survive as a nation if we don’t have a shared national identity?  If not, why not?  If so, how would that work?

Use the comments section.  I’d love to know what you think.

American Identity: What Is It?

2  steep rise 30.30 WNW9  wchill -5  Winter

Full Wolf Moon

Got my copy of the Mahabarata today, four doorstopper sized books.  You read a long book the same way you read a short one, one page at a time.

The seed database has most of the seeds entered with planting dates, inside and/or outside.  It will make the process of following the garden this year much easier.  It will also make evaluating the varieties and their production much simpler.  The garden has a straightforward demeanor this time of year.  It resides in the realm of fantasy, hard to even imagine with several inches of snowcover and windchills really cold.   The windchill just changed to -9.

Tomorrow I’m going to cover a meeting of the MN Senate Energy, Utilities, Technology and Communications Committee. The Sierra Club’s Government Relations person, Michelle Rosier, has a meeting in New Orleans until late in the week.  (Windchill now -10. )  This meeting has an interesting focus: Discussion of anticipated federal stimulus package.  In a state with 5B+ deficit, the conservation should reveal some lines of attack.

Emerson’s American Scholar contains his usual wise bits and some extraneous thoughts, but I’m half-way through it and he has not gotten to the American scholar yet.  I’m starting here on American identity piece:   American Identity in the Time of Obama.   Emerson’s time set about with clear intention to create an American character, an American identity.  If they could, we can, too.  But first I want to know what they did.

BYB:  I’m interested in the ex-pat perspective on American identity.