Thursday, December 16, 2010
Do Not Go Gentle
The last few days before winter solstice are always a slog. The darkness becomes gelatinous. It's like one of those dreams in which you try to run but can only move in slow motion. Some years, I snuggle indoors during the last week before solstice. I watch Hugh Grant movies in an effort to locate a sweet inner space of goodness and compassion (when possible). But not this year, oh no. Nope. This solstice is not serene.
My strategy this year has been to tilt at the darkness, to get all up in the face of the long, cold, dark nights by gathering with dear friends, feasting, toasting, laughing, bellowing over the roar of the crowds in restaurants and such. It's a traditional strategy for many people. It's really fun. Who knew?
The planets are conspiring to make this winter solstice a real toad strangler (in the American midwest, this is a phrase that describes a super hard rain, but somehow seems appropriate here). The moon will be full on the longest night, but it will be fully eclipsed for a very long time here on the North American continent. Full moons tend to magnify energy, eclipses always intensify everything. Add to that the chaos of Mercury retrograde and ... well ... this year we'd better party like it's 1999. Seriously.
This year, dancing in shamanic alignment with the solstice requires determination, courage, and a big ole bunch of good cheer. By laughing, drinking, eating and gathering with my friends I've raged, raged against the dying of the light.* Oh yeah. This is as it should be. Four more days. C'mon solstice, bring it. I'm ready for you, yes I am.
*Sorry Dylan, please forgive my paraphrasing of your beautiful poem.