On This Solstice

On this dark night – the longest of the year – I listen to Joe Rogan’s pod cast whilst preparing food for supper and for the Christian feast in 4 days.  There are men who remind us to look to the sky and re-connect with the inhabitants therein – the heavenly bodies encircling us and our ancestors…the light reaching us is the same light reaching them hundreds of thousands of years ago.  Their light is our light.

They knew the power of the solstice and the equinox and the high drama of the fight of light and dark – the fight for the survival of all of us and all living creatures with which we share this orb of earth, air, fire, and water.  They knew what to do on these nights – to go to the top of the highest place and raise hands to the sun, praying for its return.

I had planned to do that.  It never happened.  I still may go to the park yet tonight and reach to the stars and thank them for their light, protecting us from the blackening night and all of the monsters hiding therein.  What I have done, however, is to marvel at what a difference six months make…how the Sun King anoints us with his warmth and leaves us too soon.  How I had written a poem about the summer solstice and how it felt like such a rip off for the first day of summer to come even before school was out for the year…for the days to shorten before my longest, blissful days had begun. 

There is no such sorrow on the winter solstice, strangely enough.  There is no such sorrow – even in this impenetrable darkness, there is no sorrow…there is only a drive to burrow deeply into the sacred spaces of myself and confer with the elders; to sit with the ancients and feel their wisdom whisper to my bones.  Only a pull to my tarot cards and to warm soup and black teas flavoured with orange and clove and rum.  Only a desire to dress in nothing but furs, to feel that silky touch on naked skin and sigh a prayer of thanks to the creature for its touch...and to melt the darkest of chocolate on the tongue slowly so as not to never forget the taste of it.

When my older children were small, they would be allowed one gift to open for Yule.  They were allowed one gift and promised a story at bed time of the Holly King and the Oak King who fought tonight for the sun – to make sure that the sun would rise in the morning.  What I omitted was the version of the story in which the Holly King and the Oak King were two handsome men who were fighting for the hand of the beautiful consort – the Sun Queen.  The Holly King was older and had fulfilled his duty to the Queen and now it was time for the young, virile Oak King to take over until June 21, when the Holly King would fight the Oak King and the whole cycle would start again.  Both were supple and keen to serve. Both worshiped her so she would rise every morning, pleased and satisfied; for when she is satisfied, we are all satisfied.

I think of those lovers now, the men fighting until midnight, when she arrives in the doorway to say goodbye to the Holly King, and gathers up her new lover.

Gawain wore the Holly and, before the Christianization of the Arthurian Legends, was considered to be a manifestation of the Green God but also a manifestation of the Holly King.  There are stories of his banishment of the Red Knight, I believe, from the Pentecost feast in the Great Hall, which caused the disintegration of the Knights of the Round table and sent them to the four corners of the world to find the Grail…

So many interesting stories for this time of year.  So many based in reflection and taking stock and counting blessings and aching to be near those we love most.

This piece was my gift today from the angels of poetry:

For the Sun 

Deep in this fitfulness digs discontent –

a tick infecting flesh with madness,

delirium,

or dread of days darker than these.

Not today –

on this day of darkest days,

when Night holds captive the Sun

for much longer than we dare imagine,

today we love light and entice it to stay for one more drink

because, baby it’s cold outside,

and I left my coat laying on his bed.

Today we coax Night out

and create new ways to pacify his longing for darkness.

We need light today –

darkness has reigned too often this year.

Return to dance with us, beloved.

We miss your starry eyes.

R. L. Elke

Dec. 21/16

Blessed Be you this Solstice and may Light love you always.