WHEN I IMAGINE my life stretched out in a line from the moment of birth to “closing time” at death, events appear episodic and disconnected. Some experiences overlap, even crash into one another but all occurrences are moving in a uniform direction from the present into the future. Life on the flatline forward has the tone of a child telling a story who punctuates it with "and then... and then... and then...." This straightforward style of living doesn't tell much about where we are at this particular moment as compared to all the rest. A flatliner calendar has the required 12 months, 52 weeks and 365 days but it has no holidays, no festivities, no phases of the moon and the pictures for each month need not correspond to the season. Viewed merely chronologically, life can appear like a Kafka novel; caught in the the horror of mundanity it seems to contain very little significance.
Putting life on a line from Creation to the Apocalypse comes from Biblical mythology and has become an authoritative way of viewing time. It can be a helpful scheme when it points to the way in which life is a story that has a start and a finish. Telling the story of our time from within a larger story of the world is called cosmology. The problem is that the story seems to have been forgotten and the vibrancy of the larger tale diminished. What we have been left with is a series of disconnected dates, a poor way to approach history. It is in times like this, when history and our story don't appear to have much meaning, that Creation myths are written. When we feel disoriented, “out of time” and out of sync with the events in our lives it is time to consider our origins and foundations, even the way we calculate our time. Archimedes said: “Give me a place to stand and I will move the world." There is no better place to stand than with an appreciation of the times and seasons. Like the ancient peoples, we stand within time, somewhere on a calendar.
There are two ways to approach time: one from the individual point of view, the other from a mythology or spirituality. Our human experience tells us that events in time parallel phases in our lives: We are born, we grow older, we die. If we ourselves are anything like the seasons and Nature, we will be reborn to go through the process again. This cyclic view is a much older perspective on time than what we have been taught to imagine, but it is closer and more available to us than the flatliner approach.
Winter Solstice - December 21 (Incarnation, Conception)
If the year is a mirror of our life, we are conceived deep within the womb of the earth on December 21. Who can see what potential lies under the blanket of snow that our winter hides? In a frozen place which seems so barren, life comes into the light. At this stage we cannot foresee it. It may not be the coldest night of the year but it is the longest one, symbolizing that life comes from the darkness.
A motto for Winter Solstice could be: “The people in darkness have seen a great light.” It takes eyes of faith to see that the light is on its way to being great, as it travels from this dark night to its longest day on June 21. The long night comes at the end of our lives when our bodies return to the earth in the hope that the earth may mysteriously bring us forth again to renew the cycle. The fact that we have seen it happen to everything around us, year after year, gives us basis to hope that we, no less than the rest of Creation, will find a beginning in our end.
It is a time to release our projects and good intentions of the former year. Around this time, we come to realize that they are finished and provide a compost for the new. Winter Solstice symbolizes the spiritual truth that unless a seed die and fall into the ground, it won't bring forth fruit. Seeing the events, relationships, and projects of the old year as seeds that have a natural death is a good way to enter this time. What has died this year? Will I release it with peace or anxiety, gratitude or bitterness? Most of all, “Will I allow Light to come out of the Darkness?”
Our ancient Roman ancestors would have put it differently. They would have asked us if we would celebrate the festival of the Unconquered Sun or Sol Invictus on December 25. Simply put they might ask, “do you have the courage to affirm the ultimate conquest of the sun in the darkness of winter?” The early Christians incorporated the meaning of this festival through making it an occasion of which to celebrate the coming of Christ, the Light of the world. It was not literally Christ's birthday (that is more than likely in March) but symbolically it affirms the conquest of Light over Darkness, a belief they shared with their pagan contemporaries. Like the builders of Stonehenge and other megaliths, the gothic engineers of the Middle Ages constructed the cathedral of Vezelay in France in such a way that the sun would make a set of footprints right down the middle of the aisle on precisely the 25th of December.
Winter Solstice can be a time of playfulness and laughter rooted in anticipation. It is a time to trust that Nature will take her course and guide us through another cycle. Stories and songs of inspiration prepare us well for what is ahead. Giving things away symbolizes a clearing out of sorts. The generosity of spirit can either be done in an attitude of trust and extravagance or in fear that the times ahead will not sustain us and be characterized by want. The winter giving season allows us to exercise the faith that despite all appearances there is an abundance of spirit.
Winter Solstice is celebrated around a fire where a yule log is burnt. This Scandinavian celebration is rooted in solstice rites in which a wheel was set ablaze. Yule means "a wheel." When the log is placed in the fire we are placing the emblem of our cyclical year in a fire for purification and real. We are invited to burn away the old and ward off evil spirits through the power of light.
More familiar than the Yule log is the traditional Christmas tree. Groves and trees have been central symbols of spirituality for people the world over but especially in Europe which was once one great primordial forest. Trees were honoured and said to contain soul, sometimes the souls of departed ancestors. For this reason there was an ancestral tree in most yards which was preserved and whose health indicated the well-being of the entire family. In Christian mythology the Christmas tree made its way indoors through the hand or rather the axe of St. Boniface. Boniface toppled a great oak upon which the chieftan's son was about to be sacrificed to the gods on Christmas eve. Boniface said: “Gather round it, not in wild woods but in your homes. They will shelter no bloody deeds, but loving gifts and lights of kindness.” Regardless of the precise origins of the Christmas tree, both pagan and Christian celebrations honoured the tree for its recurring beauty. The Romans called the evergreen the “herb of the Sun”.
The Winter Solstice reminds us that no matter how much we may want things to remain the same, to stand still, they refuse to do so. It can be an unsettling time. One of the best tonics for dealing with change is humour. If we can laugh at the sacred cows we construct, we can let them go. Winter Solstice offers us laughter and a chance to lampoon what appears powerful. During the Middle Ages at Winter Solstice, the Lord of Misrule was crowned. This giddy buffoon would satirize clerics and kings and perform all manner of inanities and pranks on the amused and not so amused bystander. The Year made the playing field level on the “Feast of Fools”. No wonder Christmas was a banned festival in Puritan England and America! While there is much more to the tradition of Santa Claus there can be little doubt that the mischievous nature of the Lord of Misrule finds its way into Santa. Some anthropologists contend that Santa is a variant of Lapland shaman who officiated at the real festival of the ancient people. Ol' Saint Nick may very well have traced the celestial path of astral travelling shaman with an uncanny ability to speak to animals such as reindeer.
Imbolc - February 2 (The Children, Infancy to age 7)
Whereas the solstices are related to the solar calendar, the four fire festivals of the Druids are set off by lunar phases and represent feminine energy. Contrary to its ignoble position in the modern calendar as Groundhog Day, Imbolc (February 2) was a festival that celebrated the first inklings of spring. Agriculturally it was the time when lambs were born. In a sense it is a celebration of motherhood or midwifery. It is a time of celebrating dependency and honouring those that guide us toward life. Celebrating dependence may be a good corrective to our modern independent excesses. When this festival was brought into the Christian story, Imbolc was sponsored by St. Brighid whose particular interests were healing, poetry and midwifery. Imbolc is symbolized by candles glimmering on water perhaps representing the thaw. The church incorporated this symbol when it declared Imbolc as Candlemas, the time of the presentation of Christ in the Temple.
Imbolc is a time when we can contemplate the feminine image of God as Mother caring for her children. Perhaps we can learn at this time to consciously take on a stance of dependence realizing that we are sustained by the providence of something greater than our egos. Settling into the kindness of God would be a very healthy, though difficult, task for some of us since infantilism is a short step from adult child-likeness. The most poignant experience of the motherhood of God came to me when I was in a retreat with writer Walter Wink. We were told to enter into a contemplative state and simply wait for an image to emerge. As I lay on the hard linoleum floor, I felt as if I were being buoyed up in water and that this water was in actuality the blue robe of the Moira, the feminine aspect of the Celtic trinity. This image reminded me that no matter how old and cantankerous I get, there is a ground of compassion that I can relax back into when under stress. This experience symbolically reminded me that I will return to the Great Mother at death and perhaps be reborn within her.
In addition to allowing the lowly child to be born within, we might use this time to consider our responsibilities to those who are dependent on us. Questions concerning how much to nurture and how it is given may inspire us toward a more conscious approach to parenting.
Spring Equinox - March 21 (Later Childhood, ages 7-14)
At the equinoxes there is a sense of balance and intense change. The days and nights are equally as long. At Spring Equinox the forces of light are becoming more powerful; it is a time of blooming. If we are lucky in Winnipeg, the snow is beginning to melt and there is that special freshness in the air that is sometimes accompanied by memories of past springs. Spring Equinox can usher in a time of reception. We are receptive to the sights, sounds and and smells of nature awakening but, more significantly, we can be receptive to the principle of creation in and around us. Spring is more than beautiful; it is orderly, powerful and symbolizes that life can be disruptive. No wonder Aries the Ram is the zodiacal sign associated with the beginning of spring.
This is a time when we naturally, without thinking about it, get a haircut, shave our beards, or buy clothes. Sometimes we start a hobby or exercise program around this time. It is an invitation to abruptness. Time for the new. One problem is that Spring can be too verdant. Too much newness leaves us feeling like an overgrown garden. There is a need to consciously channel the energy of spring by beginning projects that are likely to be completed and that actually serve our circumstances. Discernment is a needed discipline at this time.
John and Caitlin Matthews, co-creators of the Arthurian Tarot, suggest that Spring Equinox be considered the time of the Sword. Here is part of their ceremony at Spring Equinox:
I stand at the gate of the year born and welcome the dawning of the light. It cuts through the darkness and doubt of Winter and releases the Hallow of the Sword. From this portal stream forth the gifts of truth, innocence and justice. May all that is false, oppressive, unjust and illusory be cut away that all creation may benefit from the gifts of this Hallow.
Beltane - May 1 (Early Youth, ages 14-21)
During the feast of Beltane at mating season, the ancients had livestock pass between two fires for purification and protection against evil spirits. Ironically this practise may be the origin of the phrase to rekindle an “old flame”, in the romantic sense. Unlike the animals that participated in these rites, the human participants were called upon to become consciously aware of their sexuality and its place in their life together. Belenus, “the bright one” was the Celtic deity who was said to sponsor this feast. It was a celebration of the union of opposites and the creativity that that union produces. During the feast of Beltane the male and female energies were said to be restored through sexuality and the balance of nature was achieved. At Beltane the maypole was erected around which circle dances were performed. Naturally the stress was upon those who were young and of child bearing age.
Ritualizing anything to do with sexuality is looked on with suspicion nowadays. Sex makes us uncomfortable because it has the ability to override our consciousness and make us extremely vulnerable. We are also afraid of the power of sex as well as its illusion-making capacities. The very fact that we don't acknowledge and accept the natural aspects of sexuality is the reason why we fall into its unconscious lure. In contrast to sleepy sexual indulgence, entering sexuality and creative activity under the guidance of the Bright One called Belenus wakes us up and causes us to be intentional in our creation of life and culture. Celebrating our sexuality and all acts of regeneration may in fact be a corrective to our repression\expression patterns.
Witnessing Nature's drive to create life was a special part of the rural feast. Bev and I witnessed a poignant example of this in the spawning of thousands of fish under a bridge one spring. The river became dark due to the black fish. I thought of it as a shadow of life which swelled the river bank. Seeing this made me realise that we are part of a living flow that moves from non-being to being every year. That life urge must be channelled and taken care of. I can imagine that Beltane could be celebrated by going to Oak Hammock marsh to witness the return of the birds or to a salmon spawning ground, anywhere were nature is creating life.
The fact that the participants at Beltane prayed for purification and protection is an indication of how they viewed creative and sexual potency. The calendar was used to restore their ethics of sex to a place of sacredness and conscious responsibility. The celebration of Beltane might take our present practise of Valentine's Day out of the deep freeze moving it from February to May.
Summer Solstice - June 21 (Early Adulthood, ages 20-30)
There is something bittersweet about being half way through a project or through a lifetime. Half way denotes a time of strength, of consolidation of skills, even a certain amount of acquired wisdom. It is a time of expression and confidence. At the same time there is a recognition that after we peak we decline; inflation is followed by deflation. Acknowledging the inevitability of death is not easy when we are at the height of our powers, and yet, it is when we are strongest and most confident that we are best reminded of our vulnerability.
Our year comes to expression on June 21. Spring has done her job and it is hard to imagine that the green and bountiful landscape will in time be replaced by an icescape. The longest day of the year is followed by ever shortening days until we arrive back at the longest night of the year. The Sun is at its strength but is waning at the same time. Summer then is a time for being active and alive.
It is strange that we have a cultural habit of considering summer the best time for a vacation. Those in a rural culture never saw it that way. It was time to get ready for harvest, a time to work and to play hard. Perhaps it is the stifling heat that leads us to the hammock in summer but it might be best to rest in Autumn where we can recollect ourselves. Summer has been stripped of its ritual significance through our refusal to celebrate midsummer, to make it a true holy day. Midwinter fairs much better with New Year's and Christmas. Midsummer is a more femininely oriented holiday. It is a time when Mother Earth is at her fullness. Our ancestors used to collect flowers and herbs during this season for the healing of the community. Marriages, usually performed in summer, were decorated with medicinal herbs and flowers. Fire was a part of midsummer as well. They would even throw flowers and spices like camomile, geranium and thyme into bonfires during summer festivals.
The flip side of healing is a funeral. Midsummer was celebrated in Russia by a mock funeral. The people would make a scarecrow effigy, called Kupalo, of straw decorated with flowers. This figure would be held by young people who jumped over the fire during a bonfire. The next day the effigy was taken to a river, stripped and thrown in. At the height of life and light there was an acknowledgement of death and the coming of winter. Midsummer festivals were incorporated into a little practised Christian festival called St. John the Baptist's Eve. John the Baptist is to Christ as midsummer is to midwinter on the calendar, a forerunner, a reminder of what is ahead.
Restoration of this festival may include such activities as recognising the feminine side of spirituality through honouring God's feminine side in Mary, Kali, Sophia and Istar and Buffalo Calf woman. Perhaps stories around the summer campfires could include tales of the feminine side which celebrate nurturance. Midsummer's tone is expression; so, theatre and performance in natural settings may lend itself to the season, like Shakespeare In The Ruins. Whatever we do to celebrate summer, we must reflect who we are at our strength in our more active poses. At the same time, we recognize that we are not here forever, any more than a good summer is.
Lughnasadh - August 1 (The Family, Marriage & Divorce, age 30-50)
Six weeks after Summer Solstice is the celebration of Lughnasadh, the beginning of harvest. Hay was gathered and wheat and barley was reaped. It was a time of evaluating the first fruits of the crops. It was also a time of evaluation in human relationships. If a couple wanted they could be married at Lughnasadh and decide the following year if they were suited to a life long union. If after this trial period they found life unbearable they could have their marriage annulled. This is a sort of community sanctioned common law that gave people time to consider one of the great decisions of life. A ceremony of marriage and divorce was held at this time. Here is a true honouring of an attempt at union that failed but is still valuable.
At the end of Lughnasadh a fire wheel was rolled down a hill symbolizing the turning of the season toward winter. When incorporated in the Christian calendar this festival was substituted by Lammas which means loaf mass, where the communion bread was made from newly harvested grain.
Lughnasadh is a time to see what has developed and to give thanks for it and correct the mistakes of the active summer period. There is a recognition here that not all things work out and that leaving a well intentioned but disastrous decision behind is part of being human. It may not be our marriages that are in need of dissolution or real. Perhaps this time could bring before us the connection we have had with others and invite us to decide consciously how committed we will be in pursuing them. The taking of communion at this time could represent that we are in need of forgiveness for impulsive decisions or commitments to projects that aren't beneficial. The communion may also represent the effort that has gone into the activities that do sustain the community. This is a time for symbols of accomplishment and conscious evaluation of where we have come so far. It could well become a festival wherein we honour each others' vocations.
Lughnasadh fits in with the cycle of our lives in that it reflects a time of accountability to family and community. Between 30 and 50 we are at our most productive; it is here that we see what we have accomplished. It is also at this age that we experience the trauma of unlived life and the realization that youth is slipping into maturity. The yearly evaluation of Lughnasadh may enable us to endure that transition and allow failure, as well as success, to be acknowledged.
Autumn Equinox: September 21 (Recollection, Maturity, ages 50-70)
Autumn Equinox is the second of the festivals of harvest. The equinox is at the end of harvesting when all is gathered in. The year is aging and is looking at what has come of itself, not so much in order to correct or alter it but to learn from it. What does the abundance of this life say about the nature of the universe? It is time to contemplate what has been given and to receive good and ill with gratitude. Autumn Equinox is a heart felt time where we must decide whether we can drink from the cup of our lives in thankfulness. Because of its emotionally evocative nature, Autumn Equinox is symbolized in the Arthurian tarot by the grail suit where our deepest satisfaction is met.
By the fire in the cool evenings of September we are called to eulogize, to praise, what will soon disappear but what we have come to love. It is a time of fond goodbye to the harvest; in its culmination is its demise. That is the precious thing about the year. It is finite and must be honoured in its individuality. The year is individual like our lives. While they may come again in another form, they will never be the same again. It is our opportunity to celebrate their uniqueness.
Whether is it the autumnal display of shocking red, yellow, and orange, or, the crisp winds, I feel more awake at this time of year than at any other. School starts in September as do most fall classes for adult education. It is a time of learning and of reflection. The quality of learning that I most look forward to in autumn is the ordering of the heart, setting the mind and the affections on what has been given through both culture and nature, and attempting to appreciate its meanings. To educate the heart and relax in contemplation of the harvest is rightfully a task for those in life's maturity.
Between Autumn Equinox and the festival at Samhain, we have ample opportunity to celebrate and to consolidate what we are grateful for. Thanksgiving in Canada is celebrated on the second Monday in October. It is time to artistically symbolize the gifts of culture and nature in their fullness. This is often expressed by the creation of a centre piece called a cornucopia.
(cor.nu.co.pia n [LL, fr. L cornu copiae horn of plenty] (1508) 1: a curved goat's horn overflowing with fruit and ears of grain that is used as a decorative motif emblematic of abundance 2: an inexhaustible store: abundance 3: a receptacle shaped like a horn or cone --)
The creation of such a tablepiece could be a reminder of abundance, spiritual and material, an opportunity for us to counteract the dominant cultural concern of scarcity and frugality. Part of the ritual could be a give away or potlatch. “From each according to his or her ability, to each according to their need.” A time when something of value symbolic or material is given away to a person you value. These gifts were placed on a blanket and the story behind them told by the giver to the receiver with the community overhearing. This was seen by our colonializing ancestors as a threat to capitalism and was even made illegal.
Autumn is also the time to face death and dissolution. The tasks of the year are gone, making way for ones. The New Year, which the Celtic peoples celebrated at Samhain on October 31, is fast approaching. Disinvesting ourselves of what was once valuable is a good symbol of this principle of real.
Samhain: October 31 - November 2 (Ancestors, Old Age - Death)
Britannica calls the celebration of Samhain (pronounced sah- win or so-en) “sinister”. The effect of chaos and dissolution does have this effect but the celebration of Samhain is to enable us to make the transition from the old to the new in a protected and boundaried manner. It is a time when spirits were thought to be closer and the boundaries between the material and spiritual worlds were fluid. One could say that Samhain is the time to remember that stability is fragile, that life is full of inexplicable events and we are vulnerable. In Scotland it was called the night of mischief and confusion.
During this festival scary stories were told and erratic behaviour was the norm. Unhinging fences and doors and playing tricks made their way into the children's chant “trick or treat”. Treat giving is an emblem that the boundary of what is yours and what is mine is repealed on Samhain. It is a reminder at the beginning of winter that the community can be called on to feed when there is want. Evil spirits were scared away but good ones were invited to give guidance to the participants. It is a night when divination was practiced. Some communities extinguished every light in the house, went to a town centre where a great fire was blazing and carried the light back to their dwellings. These ideas and observances found their way into our Halloween night.
Like most other festivals, this one was incorporated into the church calendar in the form of All Hallows and All Saints days. Here there is a celebration not of the dead and remembered but of the spirits of those that went before and still guide us by their example and perhaps even intercession. Samhain could be a time to remember our heroes and ward off the energies of those who seek us harm. While dressing up and frightening demons through imitation of them is certainly the traditional way to celebrate Samhain, it might be good to tell stories of those who went before who have contributed to our lives by way of their guidance and presence with us even now.
Because Samhain is a reminder of the fact that we are not in control and that the unknown is ever present, it is the festival most significant to the aged who face the unknown through their death. It is reminder of the supernatural and the reality of the world of spirit which is so easily forgotten in the year's activities. This other dimension is the fertile unconsciousness from which our more ordered life emerges. To ignore it or slight it is to our detriment. To consciously confront it with the resources of our past is to enter the spirit world in faith protected. This hard to achieve belief is especially significant for children. Telling fairly tales of the shadow side is one way to remind them that there is evil but love and faith and community overcome it.
About the Author Arthur Paul Patterson is a teacher-writer living in Winnipeg, Canada and the founder of Watershed, an educational context that helps individuals make decisions that lead to consciousness.