Oh look, it's Dietrich (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
kitchen_kink) wrote2008-12-21 11:27 pm
kitchen_kink) wrote2008-12-21 11:27 pm
Happy Solstice
Last year's Yule celebration was raucous and crowded - kids running everywhere, adults playing instruments and telling stories in front of the fire. Our ritual was disrupted a thousand times by the needs and tired behaviors of children. I was exhausted and getting sick, and didn't have a particularly good time tripping over people and feeling a general sense of holiday overwhelm.
In ritual I managed to make a number of commitments, and going over them this year, I found that I'd done rather well at several of them, and abjectly failed at certain others. The lessons of the ones I failed in, however, led me to wiser commitments this year - or so I hope.
There was also the setting of the ritual to guide me. This year, Tapestry Coven decided to have its ritual at our house, hours before the vigil began. We gathered around the living room, by the Christmas tree. There I commited to take more consistent care of my body, to fully engage in whatever creative pursuit I was passionate about at the moment rather than beat myself up for not writing enough, to find the right home for my family, and to step forward more in my spiritual work.
It is enough, and it feels right. They are quiet and humble goals, but good ones.
Last night's vigil, or what I experienced of it, was a quiet and humble vigil, but a good one. Many fewer people than last year. Children less wound up and wandering toward sleep. A steady fire, knitting, reading, telling stories. And![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
imlad and I left a little after 2 am, ready to sleep in our own beds and let other witches mind the waking of the sun.
As if to put an exclamation point on our observances, the Solstice weekend arrived with a major winter storm, ensconcing everything in snow. I performed two Christmas concerts, divorced from the specific spiritual observance of the season but moved to soft tears by the power of the music, and the voice of our incredible soloist. The weather pulled in the die-hards, to experience great music in fellowship against the cold and the dark.
Tonight I write this, snug by my Christmas tree on Yule night, cuddling a creature in my lap who is close to death. We huddle together for warmth, for love, for beauty. The specifics, the prayers, the gods, don't matter as much. In the gathering dark, we all reach for the light.
Warmth, light, love and beauty to you all this holiday season.
In ritual I managed to make a number of commitments, and going over them this year, I found that I'd done rather well at several of them, and abjectly failed at certain others. The lessons of the ones I failed in, however, led me to wiser commitments this year - or so I hope.
There was also the setting of the ritual to guide me. This year, Tapestry Coven decided to have its ritual at our house, hours before the vigil began. We gathered around the living room, by the Christmas tree. There I commited to take more consistent care of my body, to fully engage in whatever creative pursuit I was passionate about at the moment rather than beat myself up for not writing enough, to find the right home for my family, and to step forward more in my spiritual work.
It is enough, and it feels right. They are quiet and humble goals, but good ones.
Last night's vigil, or what I experienced of it, was a quiet and humble vigil, but a good one. Many fewer people than last year. Children less wound up and wandering toward sleep. A steady fire, knitting, reading, telling stories. And
imlad and I left a little after 2 am, ready to sleep in our own beds and let other witches mind the waking of the sun.As if to put an exclamation point on our observances, the Solstice weekend arrived with a major winter storm, ensconcing everything in snow. I performed two Christmas concerts, divorced from the specific spiritual observance of the season but moved to soft tears by the power of the music, and the voice of our incredible soloist. The weather pulled in the die-hards, to experience great music in fellowship against the cold and the dark.
Tonight I write this, snug by my Christmas tree on Yule night, cuddling a creature in my lap who is close to death. We huddle together for warmth, for love, for beauty. The specifics, the prayers, the gods, don't matter as much. In the gathering dark, we all reach for the light.
Warmth, light, love and beauty to you all this holiday season.