This gorgeous Northern Hemisphere of ours is on its way to Summer camp.
Our littlefraction of Earth has its duffle bag packed, trail mix has been made with extra M&M's, clean underwear is in tow. He's checking his cell phone for the time as to not be tardy. Excitement is beginning to brew about adventures just around the corner and he's already thinking of what to write in the first few postcards to the Moon. Correspondence is important, you know.
I wonder how many tales about solstices and equinoxes have been told around the campfire. I wonder if Ritual and Celebration take turns storytelling of ancient sites, Algonquin farmers, and cultural astronomers.
Midsummer is an very animated time around my house. Days are longer than nights and focus shifts ever so slightly more to the Sun. Our garden is growing, our sprinkler is chasing Kalynn around the yard, our tequila shots are going down a bit smoother, our grill is working overtime with half the pay and not a peep of complaint.
It is sad to me that we're pretty much an indoor culture at this point. Our connection to the sky is fleeting. If we aren't farmers interested in growth and harvest seasons or neo-paganists or new age revolutionists, there is a noticeable decline in astrological significance. I happen to be none of these things but my desire for a cosmic relationship is stronger than the lust of a 19 year old boy.
I need it to get through my days.
There can be a special spirituality in celestial mechanics. It's a baffling scientific mix of mathematics, history and humbleness. It feels so good to be a part of something so massive. So, for us anyway, we'll be celebrating the first day of Summer outside. We'll be soaking up the season and having tea in a magical fortress with Cabbage Patch Kids and tons of purple pillows. Because what better way to say hello to Summer than with a pile of purple pillows? I mean, really...