Happy Solstice

Contributor: Trish Bruxvoort Cooligan

Today's the Summer Solstice.

Originally written June 21st, 2006.

For a while now it's been important to me to celebrate earthy-based seasons such as this in our home. For instance, at the Winter Solstice we celebrate with a yearly Dark Party, where we invite friends to come dressed in black and bring dark foods and a candle. After we munch on the Edgar Allen Bean Dip and Fear Not the Valley of the Fudge and sip on the blackest red wine in town we gather in a circle. We invite the stories from the last year to unfold. People share poetry, songs, dances. They reveal where darkness has lived in their lives, and where they have or have not felt God's presence in the midst of that. At the end of the evening, those in the circle are invited to light their candle - signifying that God's holy light shines even in the midst of our darkest stories, or to leave their candle wick dark - signifying the barrenness and longing for God we can experience in that darkness. Either choice is okay. Either choice is honored.

The Winter Solstice is my absolute favorite day of the whole year. Just thinking about it right now makes my tummy dance with expectancy. It's the day I feel most alive. I've written several songs in honor of this darkest day. The Winter Solstice and its accompanying Dark Party has been such a powerful ritual for us and for our circle of friends that my husband and I even made a whole CD about it all: Behold

Today is the Summer Solstice, the earth's and sun's opposite expressions of my favorite day. I am decidedly less drawn to its energy. I wonder why. It's not that I dislike light. Perhaps it is simply that I have known Great Darkness in my life. Seasons of no-light, isolation, and terror were many in my childhood and early years. No one ever acknowledged - much less honored - these seasons for me. Darkness has gotten such a bad rap in our culture. We'll do almost anything to not feel sad, lonely, confused. But what if those seasons hold great wisdom? What if their very presence makes way for the resurrection of light? Understanding and participating in earth-based and pagan experiences of spirituality has been part of the journey of learning to open w-i-d-e the doors to honoring all my stories. And naming them holy.

The earth turns. The seasons shift. The soil freezes and thaws. So it is in our lives. Paying attention to these seasons can be a lovely mirroring spiritual practice for the interior experience.

Tonight you'll find us in our backyard with a big bonfire celebrating the generosity of the sun and "boosting" its energy. (That is if the current torrential downpour doesn't persist.) Fiery, bright foods will grace our meal. Together with a couple of friends from a nearby town we'll gather around the fire and give thanks for the blessings in our lives, for the abundance within and around.

As for me - I want to dedicate this coming season to honoring all the places, relationships, and expressions in my life that are gloriously light-filled. And I want to drink it in.

So let's raise a toast to the sun's incredible generosity, for the abundance that lives in every cell of every being. Lift high your glass of sun-colored orange juice and drink to the light within.

Hear, hear!