Summer Solstice

While I'm on a roll, I decided to post something a bit lighter. This past Sunday night, my husband and I attended a Summer Solstice celebration held by our local Audubon group.

Please note, that is NOT a live tree in the picture, it is a pruned branch stuck in the top of the woodpile. If they were burning a live tree, I would be protesting, not joining them.

The evening started indoors with music, song, poetry and readings, mostly related to summer, nature and hope.

Then we went outside where they lit the fire. Two baskets were passed around with Juniper sprigs. One would take the sprig, say a prayer and toss it into the flames. Immediately the flames tossed it straight up as it disintegrated into bright embers, rising well above the 20-foot flames. One could literally watch prayers ascend Heavenward.

I prayed for Peace in this world, healing for friends (and myself), Love to overcome and end hate, violence to end, compassion and mercy to be as common as stars overhead on a clear night. One-by-one, I watched the prayers rise to God, and I felt with certainty that God was there... LISTENING.

There was also a bowl of rosemary. One scooped out a small handful, thought about what they would like to remember from the past, and what memories one would like to create in the future. These too, where tossed into the flames, as if to give Light to those memories.

In the recent year of pain, I did want to remember the good days. Lately, I've learned to treasure them all the more.

I also prayed that I remember God, always - every situation, every moment. God always remembers us. It is something for which I strive.

Then participants linked hands in a long chain and wove our way around the fire and each other as drummers kept the beat. Vaguely reminiscent of the old Celtic traditions, this was a celebration of life, of summer, of community, of humanity, and of our relation with each other and the Divine - regardless of how each individual perceives the Divine to be. Everyone was welcome.

I especially remember a woman who had two autistic children. She confessed she usually avoided public events, as her sons might disrupt. But here, both parents and children felt welcome. One of the children even read his favorite poem; the group listened patiently with gentle smiles on every face -- not pity, but rapt attention and empathy of what the words meant to the reader.

When flames burned low, people went back inside to an assortment of refreshments and friendly chat.

Some, like myself, wandered back outside to sit quietly and watch the glowing embers. The flames were white with tips of orange at that point. One could see the ethereal fire dancing inside the large glowing coals.

As I sat silently, I would swear God sat down right beside me on the bench. I felt such a wave of Peace and Contentment wash over me. Tears slid down my cheeks.

When we are open to that relationship, when we are still and silent, God can touch our soul: A gentle reminder that no matter the past, no matter the future... We do not walk this world alone.

~ ESA