Out into Winter Solstice Eve

Winter Solstice Eve                                      Full Winter Solstice Moon

Ode has the meeting tonight, a meeting brushed with snow that left 100 inches of powder in the Rockies.  Jon skied in knee deep powder on Saturday.  I’ll drive in 4-6 inches, not as remarkable, but, consider that we have roads and driveways added to temperature that will keep all this snow with us most likely until March.  Kate says there is a truck-type, looks like a dump truck, filled with bobcats or skip-loaders.  It melts the snow then pushes it out into holding ponds.  Makes sense to somebody, I guess.

This is a leave the red car at home driving event.  Until the driveway’s been plowed and grit laid down tomorrow morning I’m not moving that little front-drive car anywhere.  Though I will have to take it out for a meeting in Minneapolis at 11:30, lunch at Matt’s, home of the juicy lucy.  A juicy lucy, for those of you not familiar with it, is a cheeseburger with the cheese inside two burger patties.  It comes with a coupon for two visits to the cardiologist of your choice.

The dogs can go in the orchard for the winter.  I opened it this morning since there is nothing for them to dig out except bunny rabbits and mice.  That they can do to their heart’s content.

The Vikings game tonight will make travel near the U really, really bad.  Even though I’m off football now, I can see the irony in a cold-weather team playing their first game outside since the metropolitan stadium closed, exactly 50 years ago tonight.  Not only that, an untried Southern rookie will start the game tonight.  Hey, it doesn’t get a weirder than that.

A Northstar Solstice Party

Samhain                                                              Waxing Moon of the Winter Solstice

After a meal and some awards, members of the Northstar Chapter of the Sierra Club gathered around a bonfire under a clear sky lit by the almost full Winter Solstice Moon.  A poem was read; there were some reflections on Christmas in Santa Fe and the wonder of fire, then the annual solstice event began to break up with couples walking the quarter mile down a moonlit path to the parking lot.

The potluck meal, served before hand, represented the various subcultures within the club.  Vegetarians, vegans and carnivores all had dishes.  My favorites were the creamed corn, the summer sausage and a vegan vegetable and bean soup I made earlier in the day.

Dodge Nature Center is in West St. Paul, one of those spots south and east in the metro area, below St. Paul.  We live north and a bit west of downtown Minneapolis so we drove across most of the metro area to get there.

It was nice to have Kate along and I hope we can begin to do things like this more and more once she retires.

It’s a form of suicide, isn’t it?

Samhain                                                                                     Waxing Moon of the Winter Solstice

“It’s a form of suicide, isn’t it? We build houses that kill ourselves (in earthquakes). We build houses in flood zones that drown ourselves,” said Roger Bilham, a professor of geological sciences at the University of Colorado. “It’s our fault for not anticipating these things. You know, this is the Earth doing its thing.”

The Longest Night of The Year

Samhain                                                            Waxing Moon of the Winter Solstice

In my sacred world the holiday season has begun to climb toward its crescendo, or, rather, descend.  Would that be a descendo?  As I gradually shifted my view of sacred time from the Christian liturgical calendar to the ancient Celtic calendar, at first I celebrated Samhain, Summer’s End, as my foremost holiday.  It is the Celtic New Year, representing the end of the old year, too, Janus like, like our January 1st.   The growing season ceases and the long fallow season begins as Beltane ends, the season of growth and harvest.  I liked this simple, incisive division of the year, growth and rest.  Samhain also sees the thinning of the veil between the living and the dead, between this world and the other world, between our reality and the reality of faery.  Life takes on a numinous quality around the end of October and the beginning of November.

In the years when I celebrated Samhain as my chief holiday I began novels then, ended projects begun in the earlier part of the year and thought a lot about ancestors and the delicate, egg shell nature of life.

Samhain still represents a key moment in my sacred year; but over time, as I worked with the Great Wheel, an expanded Celtic calendar that added Imbolc and Lughnasa to the solar holidays, equinoxes and solstices, my soul begin to lean more and more toward the Winter Solstice.  At some point, I don’t even know when, I began to look forward to the Winter Solstice as I once had to Christmas and after it, Samhain.  This was a quiet change, driven by inner movements mostly below consciousness.

Now the longest night has that numinous quality, angel wings brushing by, contemplation and meditation pulsing in the dark, taking me in and down, down to what Ira Progroff calls the inner cathedral, though for me it is more the inner holy well, that deep connection drawing on the waters flowing through the collective unconscious.  I’ve been to a few solstice celebrations, but none of them grabbed me, made me want to return.

I’ve become what the Wiccans call a solitary, practicing my faith at home, according to my own rhythms and my own calendar.  At times I’ve shared my journey through preaching at UU congregations or writing seasonal e-mails and sending them out, but now I write something on this blog and post it on the Great Wheel page.  Otherwise, on the Winter Solstice, my high holy day, it’s a candle and some reading, long hours of quiet.  This Tuesday.  The longest night of the year.

Light and Dark

Samhain                                            Waxing Moon of the Winter Solstice

The holidays.  Important for personal reflection, even have the ability to transform a life as we lay our lives alongside the possibilities suggested by Thanksgiving, Chanukah, Christmas, the Winter Solstice, New Years.  Birthdays, anniversaries, too, can reach into the deep part of your self, we can call it soul, and help you see yourself in the other.  Maybe, they let you see in there, too.  Holidays are a time out of time, a break in the straight ahead, up and at’em busyness of career, family, school.

There is, though, a dark side to the holidays.  All moments of possibility contain paths that lead not to transformation but to destruction, temptation, agony and pain.  The dark paths often emerge when the vulnerability and self-intimacy of the holiday intersects old ways of being, often ways learned in family settings, banished most of the year; but, as family and holiday conjoin, the vulnerability allows the past to rise quickly, to overwhelm.

This is as the Tao teaches us.  Even the dark side of the holidays offers a chance to become new, a chance to take the past and place it in a new frame, a way of understanding that puts the past in its own place and leaves the future open, perhaps even better for the relocation.

Darkness is not, in itself, bad.  Nor is light, in itself, good.  Too much light prevents our ability to see.  “Light is the enemy of art,” as the curator of the Thaw wing of the Fenimore museum said.  Darkness nurtures and heals, is a time for sleep, for seeds to germinate.  The holidays bring a special charge to the light and the darkness in our lives.  Our task is to open ourselves to what each has to offer us; to take it in and accept the possibilities.

Ol’ John Henry Was A Pile-Drivin’ Man

Samhain                                              Waxing Moon of the Winter Solstice

In the John Henry versus the pile driver, Watson versus Jeopardy competitions I come down on the side of the poor schlubs trying to prove we’re not over with as a species.  It comes as a special insult then when I can’t make a particular machine work.  After all, if the machine doesn’t work, we cannot prove our mastery over it.  Neither can we get anything done.

50%.  That was my results.  I got the snowblower going, coughing and sputtering, blowing blue flame from the air filter, chugging like an emphysemic senior citizen climbing stairs, but, nonetheless, blowing snow.  All the gasping and gurgling came from the year old gas still left in its system.  I siphoned the tank, but there was still gas in the engine itself.  It will, gradually, calm down unless the carburetor has too much varnish on it from the aging gas.

The chainsaw, on the other hand, would not come back to life.  I fed it new gas mixed with the proper amount of oil, filled up its chain lubricant reservoir, pulled out the choke, set the kick-back safety bar and yanked.  And yanked.  And yanked.  Not even a murmur.  At some point in the process I began to make physical fitness resolutions.  Lose 10 pounds.  Do resistance work.  A machine I can use and I can’t get the damn thing started.  So, after much huffing and puffing–me–I decided to let it and me rest for a while.

Now I’m back at a machine that I understand better than the chain saw, though not much better, but one with which I am much more familiar.  This is my 8th or 9th computer, orders of magnitude faster than the others with storage so great that I struggle to fill a third of it and programs that can do wonders.

Palmer Hayden and John Henry

In 1944 he embarked on what became a three-year effort to create his most famous group of paintings, the John Henry series. The idea, however, stemmed from his childhood when he heard his father and others sing the ballad of the “steel drivin’ man” and when he first made sketches of his hero.

His efforts to make the series were helped when his wife found a book titled John Henry: A Folklore Story by Louis W. Chappell which indicated the story of John Henry was based on a real person by that name. Hayden corresponded with Chappell. Chappell, an instructor at West Virginia University, answered Hayden’s questions and, in a letter, urged him to make John Henry’s woman a red head. He said, “I hope she will look like something fit to go home to when the day’s work is over and the night’s work is ready to begin, and such a woman is not altogether a matter of clothes.”

He also stressed the importance of John Henry’s hammer. “I have an idea that Henry’s hammer might well create a number of problems for the painter,” he told him. “I have yet to see a picture of Henry holding his hammer in his hands, or swinging it in driving steel, that has the slightest touch of reality in it.”

Hayden heeded Chappell’s urgings. The Dress She Wore Was Blue depicts a woman with red hair that probably satisfies the request to make Henry’s woman “fit to go home to”, while Hammer in His Hand shows John Henry holding his hammer in a realistic way.

The John Henry series was exhibited at the Argent Gallery in New York City, January 20 to February 1, 1947. A New York Times reviewer said “…the story of John Henry is unfolded in a dozen oils by Palmer Hayden, who has captured something of the combined literalness and imaginative quality in Negro spirituals in these paintings of that ‘steel-drivin’ man from childhood to his fatal competition with a steam drill….The artist has found and utilized illustratively the picturesque material in the saga of the black Paul Bunyan.”

Hale Woodruff wrote in the guest book for the show, “very good, Palmer!”

Hayden later said in an interview that Henry was “a powerful and popular working man who belonged to my section of the country and to my race.” He also related to him because Henry was so much like the men he grew up with. And, in The Seine at St. Cloud, the two symbols of Hayden’s hometown, the railroad and the river, appear in There Lies That Steel Drivin’ Man.

 

Chainsaw and Snowblower. Watch out.

Samhain                                                  Waxing Moon of the Winter Solstice

An inside day today.  Tomorrow outside.  A little bit of chainsaw action on trees broken by the early wet snow in November.  Some snowblower work on the sidewalk, clearing a wider path to the front door.

I also have some mulch to lay down.  A bit late, not for mulching, but for the mulch which is in garden bags on our patio.  Frozen I imagine.  I might have to take a sledge hammer to it.

Maybe some soup making if I have any energy left in the afternoon.

The oldest cousin on my mother’s side, Ikey, has entered a nursing home for what sounds like hospice care.  He was the oldest son of Uncle Ike and Aunt Marjorie, my mom’s oldest sister.  When the sickle begins to bite into the generation of my family to which I belong, it has a frisson not there when my mother’s generation died off and eventually out.  I was never close to Ikey, but to most of the rest of my cousins I have relationships nurtured by at least every two year visits.  They’re mostly in Indiana, where I was raised.  A note for Ike, for peace and calm.

Stumbling

Samhain                                             Waxing Moon of the Winter Solstice

Hmmm.  The ablative absolute and the passive periphrastic did not get put straight into my brain.  I stumbled through my lesson today, learning by mistake, a common method for me.  Still, I added a few more verses of Ovid to my translated column, down to 52.  Greg is a patient guy, a good teacher.  I’m lucky to have found him.  He played the music at the Minnetonka UU when I preached out there two Labor Days ago.  We got to talking and he mentioned his Latin and Greek tutoring.  I’d never had a tutor, one on one teaching and I love it.

A nap.  Then a lot of organization stuff, some for the Docent Discussion group I facilitate, some for the Sierra Club’s legislative committee, some for next year’s garden.

On that last point I ordered leeks, kale, chard, cucumbers, tomatoes, cilantro, rosemary, spinach, lettuce and a Seed Saver’s Exchange calendar.  They’re on the docket now because cranking up the hydroponics is a before the end of the year chore and I need to have seeds to start.

Most I’ll wait a bit on, but chard, lettuce, cilantro and rosemary I’ll start right away and grow them out in the hydroponic tubs for winter eating.  Then, around the end of February I’ll get other seeds started, some earlier, some later, getting ready for the start of the growing season.  Right now I’m happy it’s all under snow and out of reach, but come March, April I’ll be eager, looking forward to a new growing season.

Still Learning

Samhain                                                                    Waxing Moon of the Winter Solstice

The moon light, bright in the southern sky, casts shadows, thin skeletons of trees and shrubs splayed out upon the snow.

This Latin stuff is fun.  Going back and forth among dictionaries, grammars, websites, puzzling out the verbs and the nouns, trying to fit it all together into English, peeking inside Ovid, at least reading Ovid in his native language.  I know it’s weird, but I really enjoy it.

I feel about it like I feel about art history; I wish I hadn’t waited so long.  On the other hand the two together give this final third of my life mental vitality.  I’m only getting started.

Oh.  Picked up the novel I’d set aside, about a third done.  It has promise.  Need to find time for it.

Legislature 2011-2012

Samhain                                           Waxing Moon of the Winter Solstice

Conference this morning with legislative panelists who will have decision making authority in environmental matters.  I got a clear sense of the lay of the land.  There’s going to be a lot of efficiency, getting things done, streamlining, living in the real world and not dwelling on nit-picky words.  There’s also to be a lot of looking for common ground, shared vision, commitment to decisions already made, what Minnesotan’s want, keen thoughts about supplanting and supplementing. (Legacy Amendment Money)

The session began with a frame, the budget over the next few years.  Sobering doesn’t quite capture it.  More like catastrophic, devastating, difficult, no easy answers.  Environmental issues will seem, to some, as second thoughts at best, or, at worst, as possible pots of money to shore up the general fund.

How the legislature works this year and next depends on a group of newly dominant legislators who have not been running things for many years.  A steep learning curve will come into play at the same time a major economic crisis slides into place.  Not a recipe for a clean, clear-headed approach to the state’s needs, economic or environmental.

It will behoove all of us to avoid game-playing, name-calling and stereotyping.  I know that’s a cliche, but in the heat of what will be a contentious and possibly, bitter, biennium, it’s pretty damn important.