Category: holidays

Beltane: Roots and Wings

~ purplesage41 ~ Leave a comment

Beltane (May 1st) is an ancient Celtic holiday, a celebration of fertility as spring gets underway.  It still bears echoes in May poles (a mating dance) and May flowers, but in its ancient Celtic time people were encouraged to couple in the fields as an invitation to plants and animals to be fruitful and multiply. As we multiply, we need to give our children sturdy roots, and when the time is right, bless their wings and let them fly away.  Children need both roots and wings—roots to make them feel safe and give them a “starter” identity, wings to fly to new places and ways of being in the world.

Seven years ago, I went to my 60th high school reunion in Torrington, Connecticut.  It was my first reunion ever. and one of few visits to my hometown after graduating from college and getting married. My sister, my mother and my brother were all living elsewhere.  In 1959, my mother’s the youngest child, I had spread my wings and fled Torrington into the richer soil of academia, first in Storrs at UConn, then in South Carolina as a Clemson professor. I wasn’t coming back.

Torrington is an old town full of dead factories and new housing developments.  My family on both sides has lived there for many generations. Aunts, uncles and cousins dotted the landscape.  I picked apples in my grandfather’s orchard and attended the annual family reunion with people I rarely saw at any other time..  I grew up in the church of my maternal ancestors and was married there. At the Congregational church we sang from the Pilgrim Hymnal and attended Pilgrim Fellowship in high school. We knew who we were, In a town that was heavily populated by Catholics—Polish, Irish, but mostly Italian, we were New England Yankees, Protestant, hard-working, private, frugal, often unimaginative, cautious. 

Torrington High School’s Class of 1959 reunion was a surprisingly pleasant; warm welcome, old familiar faces, catching up on everyone’s past.  I was assured that I was so smart and they knew I would do great things—me, Alan, and Carol, the three nerds at the top of the class.  Later that weekend I visited UConn with my college roommate to recall where my wings first landed me, Unlike Torrington, UConn had changed.  We sought out the few familiar landmarks–the skating pond, the Congregational church.  Our old dorm still bore the same name but had been updated, as did”The Jungle,” a group of men’s dorms where my future husband was living in 1959.

My mother gave me roots, but she didn’t think wings were such a good idea. I could go to the local branch of UConn, she said.  No, I said, I’m going to the main campus.  You can be a teacher, a nurse, or a secretary, she said.  I think I’ll be an engineer, I replied. (That was shortly after Sputnik.)  But being rooted in time and space among ancestors and hills, relatives and neighbors gave me the confidence to sprout wings. They eventually flew me to marriage and an adult life as an economics professor in faraway South Carolina. There I repotted myself and put down new roots, which in turn provided soil for my three daughters– home town, high school friends (they regularly attend reunions), second cousins and a grandmother who moved here ten years after I did.  They still enjoy visiting their hometown.  One daughter, two sons-in-law, and two granddaughters are Clemson grads and tiger fans. My oldest daughter moved away, saying she was too liberal to live in the South, but after adventures in Charlotte and Dallas she would up back in Clemson, working for Clemson as a graphic designer. Another daughter lives a few hours away in Aiken SC, while the third developed big wings that took her to many places before settling in New Jersey.

There are no Congregational churches in the area, so I became first a Lutheran and then a Unitarian Universalist, a faith community that shares a history and a liberal approach to religion with my ancestral faith. I learned how to respectfully hold onto and affirm my worldview while treating those of others with respect. I let my daughters choose their colleges (within some financial limits) and their majors—an economist and a physicist looking on in wonder as they grew into an artist, a musician, and a librarian/photographer.

I am grateful for my roots and my wings, and I am pleased that my daughters return to their roots while also spreading their wings.   I wish the same for every child.

Black History Month

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Black History Month succeeded Negro History Month which was established in 1926. Exhibits, readings, displays, and other events remind us of our “favorite” black leaders. Black history gets the shortest month of the year, so we need to celebrate fast. It is followed by Women’s History Month in March and Pride Moth in June, leaving the other nine moths to presumably celebrate Cis-gendered white male contributions to our history.

Although I was born in Connecticut, I have spent most of my adult life in my adopted state of South Carolina.  I teach a short course for the Osher Lifelong Learning Center called “South Carolinians Who Should Be Famous but Aren’t’.” One of my favorites is a black man named Robert Smalls. I learned this story from a colleague in the history department at Clemson University. j was teaching an interdisciplinary honors course on risk and asked Alan Schaffer to give two lectures on great risk takers in history. I don’t remember who the other hero was, but Robert Smalls was unforgettable.

Robert Smalls was born in Beaufort in 1839, the son of a house slave. He grew up with his master’s son as a playmate.  When the master died, Robert became the property of his childhood playmate. They moved to Charleston and Robert was rented out to work on ships.  He was a hard worker and skilled in many tasks, so his master allowed him to marry and have children.  But Robert wanted something more.

The Civil War came, and in 1963, the Union navy blockaded the port of Charleston. The slaves who worked on the ship The Plantation know that the white crew went ashore most nights for rowdy times in the taverns.  Under Roberrt’s leaderships, the black workers hatched a plot. One night, when the white crew members were ashore, the slave crew stowed themselves and their families on the ship and set sail toward the blockading Union ships. Roert knew all the passwords at checkpoints, and having reached close to the Union ships, the crew hauled down the confederate flag and hoisted a white flag of surrender.  Supposedly, his words to the commander of the US. Navy ship were, “Christmas present for Mr. Lincoln.”

The former slaves were welcomed into the Union navy.  Robert Smalls learned to read, write, and navigate.  After the war he returned to Beaufort and served in the state legislature and the U.S. Congress.  While a state legislator, he authored legislation requiring the state to provide free public education for all children, black or white. Even after the end of Reconstruction, he remained active in local politics until his death in 1913.  The main street in the town of Beaufort where he was born is now Robert Smalls Boulevard.

Black History Month

Black History Month succeeded Negro History Month which was established in 1926. Exhibits, readings, displays, and other events remind us of our “favorite” black leaders. Black history gets the shortest month of the year, so we need to celebrate fast. It is followed by Women’s History Month in March and Pride Moth in June, leaving the other nine moths to presumably celebrate Cis-gendered white male contributions to our history.

Although I was born in Connecticut, I have spent most of my adult life in my adopted state of South Carolina.  I teach a short course for the Osher Lifelong Learning Center called “South Carolinians Who Should Be Famous but Aren’t’.” One of my favorites is a black man named Robert Smalls. I learned this story from a colleague in the history department. j was teaching an interdisciplinary honors course on risk and asked Alan Schaffer to give two lectures on great risk takers in history. I don’t remember who the other hero was, but Robert Smalls was unforgettable.

Robert Smalls was born in Beaufort in 1839, the son of a house slave. He grew up with his master’s son as a playmate.  When the master died, Robert became the property of his childhood playmate. They moved to Charleston and Robert was rented out to work on ships.  He was a hard worker and skilled in many tasks, so his master allowed him to marry and have children.  But Robert wanted something more.

The Civil War came, and in 1963, the Union navy blockaded the port of Charleston. The slaves who worked on the ship The Plantation know that the white crew went ashore most nights for rowdy times in the taverns.  Under Roberrt’s leaderships, the black workers hatched a plot. One night, when the white crew members were ashore, the slave crew stowed themselves and their families on the ship and set sail toward the blockading Union ships. Roert knew all the passwords at checkpoints, and having reached close to the Union ships, the crew hauled down the confederate flag and hoisted a white flag of surrender.  Supposedly, his words to the commander of the US. Navy ship were, “Christmas present for Mr. Lincoln.”

The former slaves were welcomed into the Union navy.  Robert Smalls learned to read, write, and navigate.  After the war he returned to Beaufort and served in the state legislature and the U.S. Congress.  While a state legislator, he authored legislation requiring the state to provide free public education for all children, black or white. Even after the end of Reconstruction, he remained active in local politics until his death in 1913.  The main street in the town of Beaufort where he was born is now Robert Smalls Boulevard.

Mabon: It’s All Downhill from Here

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The least known of the eight seasonal Celtic festivals is Mabon, this earth holiday celebrated at the autumnal equinox.  If Lammas (August first) is first Harvest, Mabon is second harvest, at least where the Celts lived in the British Isles and the northern part  the giant peninsula that is Western Europe. Apples. Pumpkins (not in Europe!). Root vegetables. The days grow short, the temperatures fall.

The equinoxes are what mathematicians call inflection points, as compared to Litha (the summer solstice) and Yul, which are peak and trough, mountain and valley. We climb the mountain after Yu, head back toward the valley of delight at midsummer.. Unlike many mountains, the length of days is on an accelerated path at the beginning, slowing down at the inflection point and climb more slowly toward the midsummer peak.  The reverse comes with the decline into winter.

We notice peaks and valleys in the wheel of the year, but often neglect the turning points in our own lives until long after the fact.  Mabon and Ostara (the vernal equinox) remind us to be more attuned to the changes in the seasons that mirror the changes in our lives.

The interval from Litha or Lammas to Mabon is the beginning of aging in the seasons, including the Corn God or the Sun God.  It is a time of anticipation of both death and birth.  The children are grown, perhaps we are retired or planning to retire. It is a good time to take stock of our own aging process, to notice the changes in our bodies, our interests, our daily activities.  We can try to slow the aging process so that these later days of autumn leaves and fires in the fireplace can be enjoyed in different and more leisurely ways. 

My aging friends and I can assure you that travel is fun and inspiring but also is not a full- time occupation. If you haven’t taken care of your health until now, that can too easily become a full- time activity!  But if your health and memory are good, and your income is adequate to your needs, it is a good time to give back to the earth and human communities that have nurtured us. Volunteering, mentoring, teaching, coaching, helping rescue animals, organic gardening, are among the many options. So is part-time work in something completely different. Many of my friends have turned to writing fiction.  Always a nonfiction writer, in retirement I have written nine more books to join the nine I wrote when I was working. Currently I am writing my autobiography,  not in hopes of publication, just for family and friends.

There are two poets with contrasting views of the aging stage of life.  Dylan Thomas        : Do not go gentle into that good night, Rage, Rage against the dying of the light.”  Or Robert Browning, “Grow old along with me, the best is yet to be, the last of life, for which the first was made.  With Browning, I vote for the goodness of aging.  My role model for engage aging is Jimmy Carter, peanut farmer, humanitarian, disease eradicator, Habitat for Humanity worker, Sunday School teacher, and fiction writer until his death at age 100. Who is yours?

Celebrating the Solstice

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Friday June 20th marks the summer solstice, the longest day of the year.  In Australia, New Zealand, and most of South America, it is the winter solstice, the shortest day of the year.  There they huddle before a warm fire at this solstice and celebrate the December solstice at the beach. Here in the Northwest quadrant of the globe, we have picnics and celebrate Fathers’ Day. Why Fathers’ Day? Perhaps because, inn Celtic mythology, the sun God is at the peak of his powers, even as the mother Goddess is pregnant with his child who will be born at the winter solstice. After the solstice, he begins a long descent into aging and death before being reborn in December.

The four sky holidays (equinoxes and solstices) are celebrated with bonfires—spring at dawn, summer at midday, autumn at dusk, winter at midnight.  Do these times of day remind you of Easter, (sunrise service), Fourth of July picnics (two weeks past the summer solstice), Trick or treat (five weeks past the fall equinox), and midnight mass (winter solstice)? If so, you have penetrated the Celtic roots of some of our non-biblical religious and secular customs of honoring the rhythm of the earth.

The ancient Celts, from whom many Americans trace their descent, observed eight evenly spaced holidays.  Solstices and equinoxes were dictated by the rotation of the earth around the sun, while the four cross-quarter holidays were earth-centered. Males were associated with sun and sky, women with moon and earth.

We modern humans are largely disconnected from these rhythms of earth and sky, with air-conditioned harvests and food from the grocery store that can be frozen or refrigerated.  We can eat blueberries and watermelon year-round even if it means shipping them long distance from Chile or other points far south. Change of clothing is one of the few acknowledgements we make of changing seasons as we swap coats and sweaters for t-shirts and bathing suits.

And yet the pull of the rhythm of the seasons is still strong. The urge to plant is evident in the spring, even if we are more often planting for beauty than for sustenance. Recreation moves outdoors in the warm summer months, while long winter nights are a time to huddle in front of the fireplace, alternating with snow sports in the short daytimes in more northern parts of the hemisphere.  We can try to insulate ourselves from nature, but we are in fact a part of nature and our bodies and hearts pulsate to its changes. We are also dependent on nature for all the resources that sustain us—food, and water, and electricity, and fossil fuels, metals and minerals,  plants and animals.

Each season brings us different gifts of both beauty and sustenance, challenge and opportunity.  If a single word unites these eight ancient holidays into a common thread, it should probably be gratitude.  Gratitude for rain and sun, soil and water, food and fuel, beauty and wonder. Eight chances to count your blessings and honor Mother Earth and Father Sky.  A joyous summer solstice to all my readers!

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Easter and Earth Day

~ purplesage41 ~ 2 Comments


This year Easter and Earth Day are as close as they ever come, so I am writing on the day in between. They are followed by the ancient pagan holiday of Beltane or Beltain (Celtic), which was a major fertility festival in Northern Europe as the trees leafed out and it was planting time. Sine sources sa tThat humans coupled naked in the fields to show the plants and animals what there were supposed to be doing. That custom did not survive to our generation, but the Maypole as a courting dance is a reminder of that past. Also the Biblical command to be fruitful and multiply, a commandment we may have taken too seriously.?
Easter is a moveable feast governed by both sun and moon, the first Sunday after the first full moon after the vernal equinox. Its customs come from Roman, Celtic, and Nordic traditions, with the eggs and rabbits being Norse in origin, lilies Roman.. While Christians celebrate this holiday with the risen Christ (some literally, others figuratively, it is no small coincidence that it also sees the return of plant life in the northern hemisphere.
When I was in seminary, I was taking a directed readings in weekly sessions with advisor, who was (like many of the professors) a Methodist. He was curious about Unitarianism. When we met in Holy Week he asked “Why do Unitarians celebrate Ester>” I couldn’t resist a wisecrack. “Why, I asked, do Christians name their most important holiday of the year for the Goddess of the dawn). (Eos, Astarte, and Oestra are other forms of her name).
Ester blends nicely into Earth Day as we celebrate the resurrection of the natural world with a renewed commitment to be better stewards of creation. It probably need more than a day, but it is worth asking ourselves some of the basic questions of our responsibilities for the earth by asking ourselves at least once a week (Monday is good) the following questions (one of my answers in parentheses):

  1. What have I learned recently that makes me more concerned about h future of earth’s inhabitants? The menace of micro-particles of plastic in our food and our bodies, animals a well as human)
  2. How can I change my habits to reduce this threat to plant and/or animal life? (avoid using plastics to the extent possible, with the additional reason that they are made with fossil fuels. All my bowls for leftovers and cooking are now glass or some other non-plastic substance. I bring reusable bags to the grocery store. )
  3. How can I work with communities? (Encourage groups that eat together to use paper or glass instead of plastic and be prepared to wash dishes. Ask schools and other larger groups to consider more environmentally friendly products and local governments to bring about this change, especially shifting from plastic to paper containers at sporting events Use biodegradable trash bags for your household waste.)
  4. Ask what businesses and governments can do to reduce the tremendous volume of plastic waste or seek out opportunities to recycle more kinds of plastic. [Invest in firms that produce and/or promote degradable plastics or alternatives to plastic in many uses. Tax fossil fuels to discourage the use of that dwindling resource for products where there as more earth-

So, having eaten the chocolate marshmallow eggs and the Easter ham, and planted vegetables and flowers and shrubs (at least if you live in my part of the world), it’s time to reciprocate. What gift of change and action will you bring to Mother Earth in the days ahead in gratitude for all the nurturing we receive from her?