CHOCOLATE & BRANDY: DAY 279

  Today is the first day of an often repeated, new beginning. Centuries before the great pyramids of Egypt were built, early Celtic people took comfort and confidence in ritual and ceremony to mark the sun’s return. Even though their civilization was primitive, they were accomplished students of the heavens and certainly to the angle of the sun’s arc as it signaled the changing seasons. In June, at its highest point, the summer’s season of plenty would soon follow. For the next six months the sun’s course would sink lower and lower in the southern sky until mid December. Measuring the length of shadows they identified the shortest day with the longest night. That signal was both grim and reassuring. It meant that the winter season would soon be at hand and with it, hardship and want. But with that harsh prospect came a harbinger of hope. The longest night forecast winter’s cold but also affirmed that the sun would begin its return, rising each day, higher and higher in the sky. It wouldn’t stay cold. Summer’s plenty would come around again. It was like a promise from the gods. Some of those old Celts were my forbearers and something about that identity appeals to me, even in modern times when others have either forgotten or turned in favor of newer gods. 
Last night was the longest night of the year. We know for certain that grain fields will lie fallow and fruit trees will go dormant for a long, cold spell. But the promise hasn’t changed over all this time. Every day, the sun will rise higher, daylight hours increase minute by minute, every day. Spring will come again as will the time of plenty. What we need do is to patiently prepare and trust the sun to find us.
Several of my friends came to visit last evening, at about Dark O’clock, on my patio, social distanced and masked. Even though we follow no particular pagan religion there is a comfortable fit with old ways. Perhaps the oldest ritual in human history is the lighting of fires to call back the sun. Bundled up in warm clothes, we sat around the fire. Sunshine was the musical theme, singing along with famous recordings, and borrowing from Christian tradition we communed with chocolate and brandy. Fellowship and the practice of community do not require the necessary doctrine and hierarchy that come with traditional religion. All it takes is willing souls and the desire to make connection. After several hours, the fire burned down to glowing coals, we bid each other ‘Happy Solstice’ and called it an evening. 
Winter Solstice is a favorite holiday. Those of us who actually celebrate the day are few compared to the many whose mid December holiday hangs on stories of shepherds and wise men but that’s alright. Whatever one needs to feel spiritually fulfilled, they should have it. But if what is deemed Spiritual must conform to popular political, or racial, or patriotic, or ethnic, or narrow religious priorities, it looses its salt. The gods of every major religion stem from universal respect and adherence to the Golden Rule; do unto others. Beyond that it’s just man made mythology that exploits fear and rewards obedience. 
My connection to those old Celts is both physical and spiritual. Some of their genetic influence is scattered across my chromosomes and passed through me to my descendants as well. Ancestor worship was simply the veneration of those who came before. There was nothing mysterious about the linkage between generations. All the way back to the beginning, whenever, wherever; life begat life. Everything that defines me has been funneled through the preceding generation, and likewise through my generation into future generations. We live in the present but carry the hopes and dreams of ancestors as well. No less, we bear a responsibility to those yet to breathe their first breath. Venerating ancestors doesn't sound so bad. That is a story that I can understand and embrace.