I am conflicted. I didn’t used to be. I used to know where I stood. Kneeling during the anthem was a-okay by me! But like John Kerry, I was against it before I was for it. Or perhaps it was the other way around, I can’t remember now.
It all started innocently enough. Continue reading
Being Pagan is difficult. Sure there’s discrimination, nasty comments, and the like, but you also have to figure out when to celebrate your holidays. Christians have it easy; the calendar is designed around their holy days, church happens every Sunday. But for Pagans it’s a bit more difficult. Astronomers have been kind enough to track the solstices and equinoxes for us and make those dates readily available, but when it comes to the cross-quarter days, we’re on our own.
‘Tis the season to make an ass of yourself. There is nothing like proclaiming the love of Jesus that brings out the downright-nasty-not-niceness in Christians each December.
Spiteful memes show up in Facebook feeds stating, “It’s Merry Christmas, say the fucking words, damn it!” “Stop the War on Christmas,” “Put Christ back in Christmas!” and my personal favorite, “When someone wishes you ‘Happy Holidays’ remind them that ‘Holidays’ are HOLY DAYS!” The problem with the holy days proclaimers, and the majority of Christians, is that they fail to realize there is more than one holiday in December and most of them pre-date Christianity.
When I was a child, somewhere deep within me, I knew I needed to celebrate ‘mid-summer.’ The drive was so strong that, when I was about 10 years old, I actually got out a calendar and counted all the days between the summer solstice and the autumnal equinox. Ever since then I’ve been celebrating in early August.
This year the mid-point occurs on August 6th.
Imagine my surprise when, as an adult, I discovered there was an actual holiday, associated with a real religion in early August. Even more surprising was that they observed all my “made up” holidays. (The quarter days and the cross-quarter days.) Sometimes the call to honor the seasons runs so deep that even an unsuspecting 10 year-old in Idaho cannot help but heed it.
Since the scorching summer sun beats down on the fields, ripening the wheat, the Palouse smells faintly of baking bread every August. To observe the holiday I’m making fresh bread, then heading outside with a glass of wine to catch the beginnings of the Perseid Meteor Shower. (Peak is August 11 & 12, shortly after midnight.) I hope all of you find a way to celebrate the rotating wheel of the year, too.