A Funeral for the Sun
Just came home from a trip to Florida. It was a combination funeral/early Christmas. My family is Christian, so I don't have any problem calling it that. I usually have 2 Christmases and I Yule every year; my family, inlaws, and then there's me. It was the best thing that a displaced Floridian could have hoped for - early holiday in 70 F. The fog was thick, and oaks were draped with an endless supply of moss. I figured I was lacking in the pine needle and oakmoss department, and decided to bring some back up to Missouri. I'll find a use for it. But of course when I got home it was 7 F.
I've been thinking about Yule the whole trip. I had the chance to have warm weather, and find myself returning to the cold regions on the eve of Yule. And here I am back home, where we need the heat and sun the most. I never know how I am going to celebrate a sabbat until it is upon me. Yule is no different. Lately I find myself drawn into these elongated meditations on the sun's movements into dusk; watching intently as the sun passes out of view, and watching the multicoloured draperies overlaid upon the sky as we descend into darkness. Its a gradual process, much like death. We're at a pivotal point in the cycle- startled and burdened by the bitterness of this cold front, longing for warmth and glowing light of the sun in our lives. No matter how much we want it, it isn't happening right now. Though the cold came on gradually, its snap is currently unbearable - yet this is our lot, and we need to appreciate it for what it is, and pass through it.
Death for a loved one is like the bitterness that winter brings to us. Deeply we mourn for our loss, and often forget we ought to rejoice that while another one bites the dust, on the other side they have emerged in the path of the rays of an eternal sun.
Enough philosophizing for Yule's eve.
I've been thinking about Yule the whole trip. I had the chance to have warm weather, and find myself returning to the cold regions on the eve of Yule. And here I am back home, where we need the heat and sun the most. I never know how I am going to celebrate a sabbat until it is upon me. Yule is no different. Lately I find myself drawn into these elongated meditations on the sun's movements into dusk; watching intently as the sun passes out of view, and watching the multicoloured draperies overlaid upon the sky as we descend into darkness. Its a gradual process, much like death. We're at a pivotal point in the cycle- startled and burdened by the bitterness of this cold front, longing for warmth and glowing light of the sun in our lives. No matter how much we want it, it isn't happening right now. Though the cold came on gradually, its snap is currently unbearable - yet this is our lot, and we need to appreciate it for what it is, and pass through it.
Death for a loved one is like the bitterness that winter brings to us. Deeply we mourn for our loss, and often forget we ought to rejoice that while another one bites the dust, on the other side they have emerged in the path of the rays of an eternal sun.
Enough philosophizing for Yule's eve.