SeaHeart

It's dark out. The sun trips across the sky for only a few hours every day. The earth doesn't know what it wants to do, is half cold, half warm, thoroughly confused. It is past the Solstice, and yet we have not had snow. I hear the reports that in 1889 in Buffalo, they didn't get any snow in December, too. I wonder if they worried about the end of the world, if 1900 would bring about Armageddon, or if they were just really grateful that they didn't have to put on eighteen layers of coats and mufflers to go pee.

On the Winter Solstice, I performed my first ever Unitarian service. More people came to that service than the last three combined, curious to see what I was capable of...and they said they loved it. They warmed my heart with their joy for it, they made me feel like I had done what was needed, and they affirmed that little push in my heart that's been pushing for months. I'll...tell you about it later. <3

Afterward, we were taken out to dinner, we gave Bill his present...he shed and wiped away a single tear, and his voice shook when he thanked us. I cried when he gave us our present--my voice shook, too. Sometimes, the earth turns and magnificent things happen, and you meet the people you were meant to. And you can never predict exactly when that will be, or how long you have with them. So you're simply grateful.

I keep thinking about the people who changed my life, and the people I love. 'Tis the season for it. I keep thinking about my little goddess daughter, sending her love and light every day. I keep thinking about the women and men and boys and girls that fill my heart, and it is full, so full it might burst, and I really don't have words to convey the gratitude for the card with the sparkling glitter and heartfelt message, and the little package I retrieved from the mailbox on the worst day of the year that reminded me that I was loved, or how my wife wrapped me so close and tight beneath the Solstice tree, and how my kid sister gave me something I've been wanting since I was fourteen years old, her eyes twinkling, and how I got a phone call because "I was thinking about you, and I love you." Even in the season of darkness, of cold, of gestation and waiting and sleep, we remember one another, we reach out with warm hands to hold one another in the cold, dying light.

That's family. That's love. That's the holidays.

I'm so filled with gratitude, it's hard to articulate here. There are little things I'm grateful for: with the money we got from the holidays, and my royalties, I was able to pay off a little credit card. We haven't been able to make any headway on the cards in about nine or so months, and it was fucking exhilarating to write that check. (Normal people don't get this excited about paying off a credit card, I'm sure. ;D) We have a long way to go, but I feel hopeful about it again. My depression is--knock on every piece of wood in the world--gone. We are closing Glamourkin in a few days, and the coming creation that has been held secret is ready to burst through the doors, and Jenn and I are so filled with excitement and plans and lists and lists that we don't know how we're going to contain it until opening day. We've been to so many UU services these past few weeks, multiple services a week, but we still managed to--in the middle of Pennsylvania on the drive back up to NY on Christmas day--find one at a Pittsburgh church, randomly, and go. The pastor was so funny--he read one of my favorite stories, "The Gift of the Magi," and the sermon made me cry. <3 No matter where you are or who you are or when you go, any UU church welcomes you, a stranger, with smiling people, huge hugs, talk and coffee. It's one of the most comforting things in the world, knowing that. (And my hobby of visiting different UU churches when we travel grows by one more, putting us at...twelve, I think? I want to start a blog about it. ;D *laughing*)

The year opens up, a bright shining star of possibility. And we wait, hearts warm, hands clasped...together. <3

~*~

Below is the Winter Solstice Ceremony that I wrote for the Pullman Church--I'm sharing it here so people can read it if they wish (or, heck, you could do the meditation part, if the spirit moved you). <3 It is "Pagan lite," as this was the first service that ever introduced Pagan concepts to the church--as the months progress, I will be introducing more and more Pagan ideas, rituals, concepts to the congregation.

Lee (our pastor), Laura (my kid sister, who graciously sang for us <3) and Jenn all had parts, which I've included below.

I hope you enjoy. <3


image by uberfischer



The Winter Solstice Ceremony
At Pullman Memorial Universalist Church, 2011


~ Pastoral Welcome and Reading
Lee rings the Solstice bells to quiet the congregation.

Pastor: Welcome! Welcome all to the darkest night of the year. We have watched the days grow shorter, and the nights longer until we have arrived at this moment, where the night seems to stand still. Rolf Jacobsen said:

It's so delicate, the light.
And there's so little of it. The dark
is huge.
Just delicate needles, the light,
in an endless night.
And it has such a long way to go
through such desolate space.
So let's be gentle with it.
Cherish it.
So it will come again in the morning.
We hope.

Tonight, we have a very special service planned, a merging of a modern Pagan ritual and Unitarian Universalist service. We come together to celebrate both the darkness and the light of this, the shortest day and the longest night of the year. Welcome to you, welcome to the Winter Solstice.

~ Invocation of the Elements and Casting of the Circle
Sarah: And so, breathe, rest, breathe…be here now at this moment of standing still, at this moment of darkness before the rebirth of the light. Feel your connection to all that has been, to all that will be--for as long as humans have existed, we have celebrated this moment. Now, together, we will celebrate this Winter Solstice.

In Pagan tradition, we sanctify this space and our time together in it by casting a circle of energy to make this time sacred. We do this by asking the elements and directions to join us in concert. We now call upon the elements:

Jenn: (ring bell)
Spirit of the East, spirit of air,
of snow, soft and white,
the wisdom found in winter stillness:
Be with us in this darkest night,
in this time of deep dreaming,
as we gather together in the dark
to celebrate the light.

Laura: (ring bell)
Spirit of the South, spirit of fire,
of shining stars and burning suns,
Be with us through this darkest night
When it seems that light will never return,
Warm us with the reminder that
We are not alone. We are together.

Lee: (ring bell)
Spirit of the West, spirit of water,
of the eternal dance of the year turning,
Be with us as the sun sets
Grant us the courage to embrace this dark night,
This healing quiet
That brings us peace.

Sarah: (ring bell)
Spirit of the North, spirit of earth,
of nighttime and winter:
Be with us in the darkness, in the time of gestation.
Ground us in the wisdom of the changing seasons
as we celebrate the spiraling journey of our lives together.

And now,
Listen to the words of Spirit, what we might call Divinity, Source, All-that-is,
Who of old was called the sun, the moon, the earth,
and by many other names.

As we are divine, as we too are made of the same stuff as stars,
Spirit says to us:

Let there be beauty and strength,
power and compassion,
honor and humility,
mirth and reverence within you.

For behold, I have been with you from the beginning,
and I am that which is attained in celebration
In the quiet peace of darkness
In the bright jubilance of the rising sun.

Welcome, Spirit.

The circle is cast.
Blessed be.

~ Lighting of the Chalice and Group Prayer
Lee stands and moves to the chalice.

Lee: We light this chalice to remember the light. In this small flame dwells the beacon of lanterns guiding travelers home;
the warmth of hearth fires tended through the generations;
the transforming energy and power and life of our sun.
May these blessings--warmth and light and life-giving energy--be kindled in each of us.

Lee lights the chalice.

Lee: Everyone, please turn in your hymnals to the response reading 543, "Winter:"

Let us not wish away the winter. It is a season to itself, not simply the way to spring.

When trees rest, growing no leaves, gathering no light, they let in sky and trace themselves delicately against dawns and sunsets.

The clarity and brilliance of the winter sky delight. The loom of fog softens edges, lulls the eyes and ears of the quiet, awakens by risk the unquiet. A low dark sky can snow, emblem of individuality, liberality and aggregate power. Snow invites to contemplate and to sport.

Winter is a table set with ice and starlight.

Winter dark tends to warm light: fire and candle; winter cold to hugs and huddles; winter want to gifts and sharing; winter danger to visions, plans, and common endeavoring--and the zest of narrow escapes; winter tedium to merry-making.

Let us therefore praise winter, rich in beauty, challenge and pregnant negativities.

~ Reading: "The Shortest Day" by Susan Cooper
Sarah: And so the Shortest Day came and the year died
And everywhere down the centuries of the snow-white world
Came people singing, dancing,
To drive the dark away.
They lighted candles in the winter trees;
They hung their homes with evergreen;
They burned beseeching fires all night long
To keep the year alive.
And when the new year's sunshine blazed awake
They shouted, revelling.
Through all the frosty ages you can hear them
Echoing behind us - listen!
All the long echoes, sing the same delight,
This Shortest Day,
As promise wakens in the sleeping land:
They carol, feast, give thanks,
And dearly love their friends,
And hope for peace.
And now so do we, here, now,
This year and every year.

~ Song: Silent Night
Lee: Everyone, please sing along to a familiar tune, "Silent Night," but with newly imagined lyrics to reflect our Winter Solstice celebration here.

Silent night, solstice night,
All is calm, all is bright,
Snowfall blankets the slumbering earth,
Yule fires welcome the Sun's rebirth,
Come together in peace,
Come together in peace.

~ Sun Ceremony
Sarah: Once, long ago, when the world was new, the ancestors cherished the sun. It was because of our bright star that the plants grew, and the world was warmed and life was beautiful and bountiful. But, as the winter months drew near, the bright star shone in the sky less and less. The nights grew longer until our ancestors came to the longest night of the year. Darkness was absolute--why, it seemed that even the far distant stars shone less brightly in the velvet black of that night sky. Our ancestors gathered together in silence, afraid. This was the longest night that had ever been--there were no guarantees in the ancient world. What if the sun had died? What if she would never return?

"We must call it back," the people whispered to one another. "We must give a great shout, so that the sun hears us, so that the sun will return." So that's what they did. On all of the snowy hills, they lit great, burning fires that shone in the darkest night. They gathered together, and they sang and danced and made merry all through that longest night.

And, in the morning, the sun came back.

Now, we know that the earth revolves about the sun. We know that, tomorrow morning, the sun will rise, because it has always risen. But what if it didn't? Nothing in life is sure. Though our ancestors knew very little of science or how our world works, they knew enough to never take anything for granted. They knew that celebration, sharing, gathering together in love when there was absolutely no reason to, probably every reason not to, was a declaration of faith to the universe. They knew that celebrating light on the darkest night of the year was a physical prayer to the sun, a reminder to her to please return.

So the star returned. You know, sometimes, I forget the sun is a star. It's not obvious, if you think about it. It gives us day, an alien landscape when compared with night, when you see the stars twinkling overhead, warm and soft in the chilly glow of a December evening. When the sun stays with us such a short time during the day, we are lulled by the night, made sleepy by the darkness, thinking on soft, contemplative things, veritable bears in our caves, ready for that long winter's nap. I go to bed so much earlier in the winter, hardly see the sun because I work all day...if I didn't pay attention, if I became unaware of daily moments, I would forget it existed entirely. It might be that way with a lot of us. We have day jobs, we're busy, we have Too Much To Do, and the sun slips away from us sooner and sooner, until it's just a deep orange memory along the horizon. The night can make us forget that there was ever once light--but now is the strongest time to remember that we are still following a star. It's distant, it's hard to catch a glimpse of, the gold, elusive thing, but it's still there.

Your star is always there, though sometimes the dark is so deep, we can't see it. But you only need a little light, and then darkness is not so absolute.

Our ancestors celebrated the return of the light by kindling that light in themselves and each other. They exchanged gifts, they fostered relationships, love, friendships and kindness. They upheld one another in a dark time, and they upheld themselves with a very clear and absolute courage. We possess that same courage to follow our own stars, to cherish and support our own light and the light of each other. "Strike one match in the dark, all the world's not the same."

And light answers to light.

So let us remember the warmth of the sun. I invite you to make yourself comfortable, however that is best possible for you. Relax, breathe, rest. Here, now, please receive a little stone. A pebble. A little bit of earth. Everything has energy, we all have energy, and the idea of our star has energy. The stone you've chosen for yourself, in the dark, is the physical manifestation of the spark of your star. Here, in the dark, hold your stone, think about your star.

Think of the sun, think on the great pull of its grace and fire. Feel the gravity of this star within you, all around you, holding you close enough to receive everything you need, but far enough away to never feel burned. You are the embodiment of the warmth of this light, and it fills every bit of you, from top to toe.

We follow the star, our star, throughout our lives, the deep passions that fulfill us, the sensation of being connected to something so much greater than ourselves. All of this knowledge, all of this courage, all of this fire and light is within us at all times. Our ancestors knew how interconnected we were with the sun, and we feel that now. And we know that the sun, the star, lies within us.

Our physical bodies are made up of the same things as stars. Within our blood and body and bones is stardust, is the seeds of planets, is the pulsing heart that once was part of a sun. We are, physically, connected to the larger universe, places and times and things we can not even comprehend. Our spirits, too, are hinged to this greater existence. All of this is within us, and yet we are so very small.

The stones in our hands are now warm from our warmth. Even smaller than us, these are but tiny seeds of possibility.

Now, please close your eyes. Hold the stone in your hand, feel its warmth and weight, so small, and yet, still it sits there, waiting. Think on your greater passions, your dreams…the stars you follow. In your life you have followed so many stars. The stars that led you here, now, to this moment, your dreams and passions that brought you to this place. Here, we stand on the edge of a bright new year with so many stars gone behind you. So many beautiful lights you have held in your heart…all of the light you have given this world thus far.

Now, I invite you to think about this coming year…the beautiful possibility that lays before you. Every day after this one, the nights grow shorter, the days grow longer, the sun and light and life returns. What star will you follow this year? What star will you celebrate? What will you give your light to? For you have so much light. Within you is the dust of stars, of planets, a million, million light years of being. And, in your palm, the seed of possibility waits.

When you are ready, please open your eyes.

The stone sits in your hand, warm with your intentions, your plans, your dreams. Keep it with you. When you see it, think on light, think on possibility. Remember your star and celebrate it on this longest night--and always.

Blessed be!

~ Song: Oh Come All Ye People
Laura sings, a capella and reverently:

Oh come, all ye people,
joyful and triumphant,
Oh come ye, oh come ye,
To the edge of the year.
Come and behold it:
Light this day returns to us,
Oh come let us rekindle,
Oh come let us rekindle,
Oh come let us rekindle,
Light returns!

~ Devocation of the Elements and De-casting of the Circle
Sarah: And now, to Spirit--we thank you for being with us in all things. Stay if you will, go if you must--hail and farewell!

(rings bell) And to the North, to Earth, thank you for supporting us, holding us, cradling us. Stay if you will, go if you must--hail and farewell!

Lee: (rings bell) And to the West, to Water, thank you for the flow, for the ebb. Stay if you will, go if you must--hail and farewell!

Laura: (rings bell) And to South, to Fire, thank you for the light, for life, for the sun and all stars. Stay if you will, go if you must--hail and farewell!

Jenn: (rings bell) And to East, to Air, thank you for the snows, for the white, for the blessed beginning of winter. Stay if you will, go if you must--hail and farewell.

Sarah: (rings bell) The circle is open, but unbroken, may the love of light be forever in our hearts! Merry meet, and merry part, and merry meet again!

~ Song: Deck the Hall with Boughs of Holly (235)
Lee: And now as our closing hymn, please sing along to a carol that is so familiar, you might not even need your hymnals--what everyone knows as a Christmas carol that is actually a Solstice carol, too! Song number 235: "Deck the Hall with Boughs of Holly."

~ Blessing -- "Christmas Eve letter" by Fra Giovanni, altered
Pastor: I salute you. There is nothing I can give you which you have not. But there is much, that while I cannot give, you can take.

No heaven can come to us unless our hearts find rest in today. Take heaven!

No peace lies in the future which is not hidden in this present instant. Take peace!

The gloom of the world is but a shadow. Behind it, yet within our reach, is joy. Take joy!

Life is so full of meaning and purpose, so full of beauty . . . that you will find earth but cloaks your heaven. Courage then to claim it, that is all! . . .

And so, at this Solstice time, I greet you with the prayer that for you, now and forever, the day breaks and the shadows flee away.

May your Solstice be warm and merry and bright. Blessed be.

~*~

There was a drumming circle afterward (which went astoundingly well--everyone was so open and excited about it!) that my sister and Jenn and I began, and drumming throughout the ceremony that my sister provided. <3