I had such a relaxing time in Oregon that I kind of forgot about the holiday season, the frenzy, the dashing around, all the social engagements, and so on and so on. I'm not complaining; I've already thrown myself headfirst into the holiday fray, with gusto.
Autumn was cold in DC, a reminder of how winter once was, I mean before electric light and central heat: long, cold and dark. I believe we gather to eat, drink and be merry so as to generate heat and light. Last year it wasn't cold - it was hard to remember the soul of the season. But this year is great - we even saw a little bit of snow yesterday, followed, sadly, by sleet and freezing rain. I didn't leave the house - it was that kind of day.
The giving of gifts is, in the Reyaverse, our way of making offerings to Brother Sun so he will turn around at solstice, bring back the light. We give them to each other, but if we still had home altars, I believe we would stack them up there. Maybe that's why we place them under the Christmas tree.
My kitchen table has become Santa's workshop. I'm cranking out giftoids that I will give away as long as my supplies hold out. I began the day I returned from Oregon. On Christmas Eve, the giving will stop. After New Year's, the partying will stop.
Am I the only one who feels relief at the end of the holidays? Surely I'm not. Once upon a time, that relief had to do with the solstice. We knew then that the nights would not continue growing longer. Our offerings were accepted, the wheel of the year was reborn. Whew!
In the meantime, I intend to dance in shamanic alignment with the ancestors. I will make offerings, I will go to the parties. I will smile and laugh and drink and eat. I will make merry. After the solstice comes January, the month of detox. This is as Brother Sun prefers it. I'm in.
|At a par-tay, the inevitable lipstick selfie.|