Last night I observed the solstice and kept vigil with two different groups of people. In one, we celebrated a simple ritual drama where the waning sun of the old year was transformed into the waxing sun of the new. The other was an informal, all-night gathering where the group committed to having at least one person awake at all times to tend the fire, ensuring that the sun would rise again in the morning. My night was full of hugs and kisses, homemade soup and bread, and gifts of chestnuts and blessed gold coins. An old friend led singing with his guitar, and we giggled our way through carols and folk-rock essentials, making up new harmonies and sometimes coming together in moments of soaring beauty.
My friend Grove Harris says that at the solstice, paradigm shifts are possible. This morning, I’ve awoken refreshed, full of plans for the year ahead. May ’13 be a lucky number for us all!