Athletic Pinnacles, All On A Friday Night

69  bar steady  29.96  0mph NE  dew-point 64  sunrise 6:17  sunset 8:17  Lughnasa

Full Corn Moon

The Japanese have tea parties.  They sit on special decks built for one purpose.  Their artists have perfected its illustration.  The moon.  Moon viewing.  We have the same moon, but our utilitarian perceptual field notes the brightness.  Or, the sentimental connections of blue moons or harvest moons or over the moon, but we do not honor the moon sui generis.  If you have time the next night or two, take a moment, maybe more.  Look at this silvered neighbor, our closest ally, a chunk of earth separated now from home by 250,000 miles.  Full moons and crescent moons spark the fire in my heart, wonder.

I watched three Olympic events tonight and each one in its way affected me.  The Romanian woman, Constantina Tomescu-Dita, ran away from the field at the ten mile mark.  She ran away, ran away, ran away home in an inspiring individual effort.  At 38 she was the second oldest contestant in the field.  I got caught up in her bravery, her grit and finally her perseverance.  When she ran into the bird’s nest stadium, I cheered along with everyone else.

Michael Phelp’s 8th gold medal.  It was no gimme with a strong Australian team and a scrappy Japanese team right on the heels of the US, but Jason Lezk swam another anchor lap with great energy.  He’s 32.  Do you see a theme here?  Dana Torres, US silver medalist in the 50 metre dash (swim), is 41.  Phelp’s is in his prime and has done something no other Olympic athlete has ever done.  8 gold medals.  In one Olympic.  Some say it may never be done again.  Maybe not.  Maybe so.  What ever happens, nothing will ever detract from the disciplined, humble swimmer from Maryland.

Ussain Bolt ran a 9.69 100 metre dash.  He did it with ease and elegance.  He, on the other hand, is 21.  This was his first Olympics. He was so far ahead of the field that he thumped his chest and opened his arms palm up to the crowd–while he headed toward the finish line, speeding up.

3 riveting athletic feats.  Makes you proud to be a human being.

Corn Mother

82  bar falls 30.06 2mph N dew-point 65  sunrise 6:16  sunset8:17 Lughnasa

Full Corn Moon

This comes from wise woman Susan Weed and her website.

Her presentation of Lammas (Lughnasa) and especially her explanation of the link to the Eleusinian mysteries gives me chills.  Why?  Because I have corn growing in the garden right now.  Lughnasa is in essence a celebration, as I said in my post on the Great Wheel page, of the neolithic revolution, a celebration then, of wise women, since most archaeologists agree that women began the practice of horticulture.  It is also, and this is what gives me chills, a celebration of the corn that grows now here in Andover in 2008.  As the neo-pagans say, Blessed be.

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Lammas, or “Loaf Mass,” is the Feast of the First Harvest, the Feast of Bread. This Holy Day honors the women who created agriculture and bred the crops we cultivate, especially the grains, or corn. In the British Isles, celebrants make corn dollies from the last of the newly-harvested wheat. The corn dolly holds the energy of the grain Goddess and, when placed above the door or the mantle, will bring good luck to the household all year.

When we think of corn, we think of succulent cobs of crisp, sweet, buttery yellow or white kernels: immature Zea mays, Indian corn. You know, corn. As in sweet corn, popcorn, blue corn, decorative corn, corn bread and corn chowder. Corn!

But, did you ever wonder why it’s corn? “Korn” is an old Greek word for “grain.” Wheat and oats, barley and even rice, are korn. This usage is preserved in the song “John Barleycorn must die.” When Europeans crossed the Atlantic and were introduced to the beautiful grain the Native Americans grew, they, of course, called it “corn.” And nowadays we think of corn as only that, but corn is Kore (pronounced “core-a”), the Great Mother of us all.

Her name, in its many forms — Ker, Car, Q’re, Kher, Kirn, Kern, Ceres, Core, Kore, Kaur, Kauri, Kali — is the oldest of all Goddess names. From it we derive the English words corn, kernel, carnal, core, and cardiac. “Kern” is Ancient Greek for “sacred womb-vase in which grain is reborn.”

The Goddess of Grain is the mother of civilization, of cultivation, of endless fertility and fecundity. To the Romans she was Ceres, whose name becomes “cereal.” To the Greeks, she was Kore, the daughter, and Demeter (de/dea/goddess, meter/mater/mother) as well. To the peoples of the Americas, she is Corn Mother, she-who-gave-herself-that-the-People-may-live. She is one of the three sister crops: corn, beans and squash. In the British Isles she was celebrated almost to the present day as “Cerealia, the source of all food.”

Honoring grain as the staff of our life dates at least as far back as Ancient Greece. Nearly four thousand years ago, the Eleusinian mysteries, which were regarded as ancient mysteries even then, centered on the sacred corn and the story of Demeter and her daughter Kore or Persephone. Initiates, after many days of ceremony, were at last shown the great mystery: an ear of Korn. Korn dies and is reborn, traditionally after being buried for three days. Corn and grain are magic. The one becomes many. That which dies is reborn.

A Pleasant and Substantial Path

70  bar steady 30.13  0mpn SSE dew-point 62  sunrise 6:16 sunset 8:17  Lughnasa

Full Corn Moon  moonrise 2014    moonset  0554

“Mistakes are at the very base of human thought … feeding the structure like root nodules. If we were not provided with the knack of being wrong, we could never get anything useful done.” – Lewis Thomas

Had to call the generator guys yesterday.  Our Kohler should exercise itself every two weeks, Tuesdays at 11:00 AM.  It has not done that since installation.  It works, we know that because it turned on during a power outage in June.  The exercise cycle, however, is how we know it works in between storms.   A fail safe.  They had a reason this time, like they had the last time.  This time use during an outage kicks it off the exercise cycle, “A problem Kohler refuses to recognize.”  The first time it was air in the gas line.  Maybe so both times, but I want it to do what we paid a hefty sum to do and that includes letting us know it works, all the time.  Otherwise, come an outage we may have no power and an expensive lump of metal and wires to help us enjoy the darkness and the heat.

Today and tomorrow and Monday are prep days for the herds migration out to our place.  Groceries.  Garden spruce up.  Hydroponics restart.  Decluttering the living room and kitchen.  That sort of thing.

Kate’s last two years of medicine are not the gentle glide down to a soft landing and out I wish they could be.  Her style of practice and the newer, corporate style do not mesh; the gears grind and jump.  It means she’s under pressure to see more patients, see more adults and smile doing it.  She needs a union, at best she will get out with her dignity intact.

We have, however, set ourselves on a pleasant and substantial path here at home.  We have expanded food production here this year and will expand again next year and possibly the year after that.  There are energy capture projects I have in mind and much more to learn from the disciplines of permaculture and horticulture.  She has her sewing and quilting; I have writing and politics.  Together, too, we have the kids, the grandkids and the dogs.  She will be here longer than she will be at work.