The third weekend of December -- the velvet night of the darkest time of the year -- was for me filled with light, laughter, absurdity, and magic.
The magic of Winter Solstice
That Saturday night was my first Winter Solstice Celebration in Edinburgh, which I posted about here.
When it was over, and we had finished cleaning up, we caught a cab home.
And such a cab ride it was.
Through the worm-hole
We lugged our bags and baggage to the taxi stand across the street, climbed into the first taxi, and entered a worm-hole.
There was a stocking hung up behind us. There were a neon tree and an electric wreath on the divider in front of us.
As we got underway, the cabbie told us "There's a treat for you in the stocking, if you've been good." I did not have the courage to reach in there, but Co-Conspirator did, and found good chocolate candy, which she generously shared.
The cabbie, having heard my American accent when we gave the address, asked where I was from; I said the US, he asked where, I explained, yada, yada. Conversation ensued about how America has given the world some of the best music and musicians and recording artists, like Luther Vandross, you know, and...
Would we like to hear him (the cabbie) sing? It's something he learned from one of the greatest American artists...
Sure!, we chorus. (It's only a short cab ride, and we're punchy anyway.)
I'm in the middle, wedged between Co-Conspirator and Beloved Wife. Co-Conspirator is clutching my shoulder; Beloved Wife is carefully not looking at or touching either of us (well, except for being wedged tightly together).
This guy can actually sing, and sing well. And he's clearly practiced and has good breath control. (He even timed it well with the speed bumps!)
And here is where our accounts diverge.
I think we're having a meaningful experience. Sure, it's schmaltz! But there's something really lovely and wonderful about it for all that. Right?
Noooo. Beloved Wife and Co-Conspirator are having a completely different experience of the schmaltz.
(Or maybe it's treacle for them -- ? That could be why.)
So we get back to the flat, get everything inside, and --
Collapse into gales of laughter.
None of us can quite believe it all, and we all think it's the most surreal thing ever.
Co-Conspirator (who has a degree in a relevant field) decides it was a worm-hole. There is just no other explanation.
I decide we must have gone through New York City on our way from St. John's back to our side of town, because really, where else would this happen? Edinburgh??
Eventually we have cups of her amazing peppermint tea and eat lots of dark chocolate digestive biscuits before she returns to her own nearby flat. But we keep bursting into giggles.
The 80s are back
The next day, Beloved Wife and I went grocery shopping.
There's a Clarks shoe store in the same shopping center as our nearest grocery store, and we had a little bit of time and I needed boots, so we decided to duck in. Plus, they were having a big sale.
I tried on some of what I needed, with Beloved Wife urging me away from plain weather-proof boots in hiking-boot styles, and towards trendy/dressy weather-proof boots.
"You know, it didn't occur to me that I could get dressy winter boots. No wonder I wasn't excited about those. These are much nicer."
"No, no, you definitely need stylish boots."
(I feel like somehow, over the years, our shoe conversations have flipped 180 degrees. I think I definitely used to be the one with dressier shoes (and boots). Now she is. (Maybe it's the influence of Dr. Isis -- ?))
They didn't have what I decided I wanted in my size, but I tried on some similar things.
And then Beloved Wife found these lovely black leather zip-up slightly-slouch ankle boots with a buckle and chain on sale for £30. They would fit a hole in my wardrobe, but were not what I had gone into the store to buy, and therefore I couldn't buy them, right? But they were so cute. And Beloved Wife thought they looked fabulous (actually, she used a different word). And they had them in my size, and they fit. (I have hard-to-fit feet.) And they were on sale. And they were sensible, comfortable, walkable, and sexy.
And they were giving me flashbacks to my adolescence.
I tried them on and walked over to the mirror. "I feel like I'm back in high school. Only I'm finally trendy!"
The second (older) salesclerk looked at me and said, "Wow. All you need are leg warmers!"
At which point I -- yes, it's true -- I pulled up my jeans legs and pulled down my leg warmers.
At which point she, Beloved Wife, and I collapsed into gales of laughter.
The salesclerk who was helping us returned from the back with another boot in another size. "What?" I showed her. "Oh, that's cute!" she said, smiling and nodding.
Clearly of a generation which could not understand why it was hilarious rather than "cute."
I looked at the other salesclerk and asked, "Have you seen 'Flashdance'?" She nodded. I solemnly intoned, "I promise I no longer own any ripped sweatshirts." She giggled.
I did buy the boots. And they are totally awesome. And quite comfortable.
And you can't even tell they're 80s boots if I'm wearing them inside my jeans.
Feuerzangenbowle
Monday night, I went to a small work party/get-together with Beloved Wife, her work group, and some of their assorted family members. In general, I enjoy her colleagues and their collective (and sometimes slightly warped) sense of humor.
Our host had said in the email invitation, that because they were missing pieces from the set, there would "probably be no flaming tongs"... but it turned out we were treated to the German tradition of Feuerzangenbowle, or flaming punch, after all. Here's a link to a video, but it does not completely capture the magic (in the spiritual sense or the geek or chemistry senses) of blue flaming rum and sugar dropping down into the punch bowl and running around til burned.
So we had light in the darkness, good-natured teasing, conversation, company, friendship, and lots of laughter on Monday, as well.
And then Beloved Wife and I had a few quiet days to ourselves before spending the rest of the holidays with family.
Blessings
I hope your holidays were similarly blessed with magic, laughter, good companionship, friendship, family, love, chocolate, fire, unexpected blessings... and schmaltz.
(Just in case, here's a little extra schmaltz for you. I'm sorry he doesn't have a Scottish accent like our cab driver.)
Please check out this wonderful poem by Judith Laura! There's also a great video following, from the weekly contra in Glen Echo, near DC, with the amazing Cis Hinkle calling and music by the fabulous Moving Violations. (I have danced to Cis' calling, and she rocks.)
The third weekend of December -- the velvet night of the darkest time of the year -- was for me filled with light, laughter, absurdity, and magic.
The magic of Winter Solstice
That Saturday night was my first Winter Solstice Celebration in Edinburgh. As as I do pretty much every year -- even when I also do something else for Solstice, and even when I work with it by myself -- I worked with A Winter Solstice Singing Ritual. I did a community Celebration, as I often do. And this year, it was completely different from any other year, as is often the case.
I was not working with a choir this year, instead depending on... whomever was led to show up. In the past when this has been the case, I've at least known ahead of time who was coming. Not so this year. I taught two music workshops ahead of time, both of which were lovely, but had small attendance, and then spent an evening singing with my Co-Conspirator, the F/friend who was my co-planner/publicity helper, going over music. (Heh heh heh heh. She subsequently turned up on my doorstep compulsively singing "Imani" and "We've Got the Power." *happy cackle*)
It turned out we would have four singers as anchors, including me. Hmmmm.
Other volunteers are also needed to make this happen: one Narrator, four Readers, some candle volunteers, a greeter, people to set up and break down...
The week before, I had met with the person who'd agreed to be Narrator, someone from my Meeting here. I was really looking forward to hearing her narrate; she has a beautiful reading voice, she was convinced this was going to be lovely, and she was looking forward to seeing it in reality. Co-Conspirator and Beloved Wife had agreed to be Readers #1 and #3 and to help with set-up, and Beloved Wife had agreed to be the welcome person/staff the door. We still needed Readers #2 and #4 as well as candle volunteers, and were going to ask people as they arrived.
We felt pretty confident this would work.
I had no idea who would show up. I'd sent announcements to both the closest Quaker Meetings and to several local Pagan groups, had posted fliers in the businesses closest to the Hall we'd rented as well as several other crunchy-granola businesses and my library, had emailed friends, and had posted to Facebook and Witchvox, etc. -- all the usual.
It was a big experiment, and I had layer of "Eeek!" in there somewhere, but mostly I felt a kind of flexible, happy expectation: I didn't know what would happen, but it was going to be neat to find out.
The night before the Celebration, the Narrator called: she had a terrible cold and barely had any voice.
Beloved Wife had narrated before, and agreed to be Narrator instead of Reader #3.
Now I needed three Readers.
Looking at my to-do/still-need list on Saturday morning, I was somehow delighted and inclined to laugh. I was slightly stressed, and yet convinced it would be fine. Yes, we really would create this together.
And we did.
It was magical.
And it was one of the most drama-free Winter Solstice Celebrations I've ever had. (From the start of planning through to sorting everything out in the end.)
People sang. Starting with "Round and Round." They even sang in parts, they sang together, and they sang with confidence.
People read.
People helped with candles.
People took ownership of their experience.
People passed the Light, nourished it, sheltered it from drafts, encouraged it when it faltered, until the room was aglow.
People helped collect our candles and make sure they were safe while we moved around.
With Co-Conspirator's wordless encouragement, people took up percussion shakers during "This Little Light" and "Imani" so that I wasn't alone on my drum.
People sang. People moved their bodies. People sang in harmony.
They smiled.
They re-grounded.
They built community.
Folks stuck around for a little while after, talking, being together. And then they helped clean up -- my blurred impression is the only things that were left for us to do were the things that only we could do.
The Celebration started at 7:05, and we were out of the Hall by 9:15.
It is that time of year again, when bloggers around the world post a favorite poem in honor of Brigid, the Irish goddess and patron saint of smithcraft, poetry, and healing. Brigid’s feast day is February 1st, so between now and then is the perfect time to publish a poem to celebrate.
Are you a Pagan parent, or someone who teaches Pagan young people, or teaches non-Pagan young people about Paganism/s?
What are some of your favorite resources? (Books, websites, magazines?)
I'm asking because I not-infrequently receive requests about this, and I'd like to point parents, especially, at resources that have worked for other Pagan parents and adults working with kids.
And I want to know what works for you.
Thanks!
(If you've already answered in another forum, you don't need to answer again here, but feel free to.)
The windows of the Meetingroom where I now attend face south. In Meeting for Worship this First Day, the angle of the Sun was just enough different from the last time I was there, in December, to be noticeable.
I've been noticing this difference in the angle of the Sun in daily life recently, too, and that sunrise and sunset times are now noticeably different, too. It's nearly a month since Winter Solstice, the Sun is higher in the sky, and the Sun rises earlier and sets later.
And on Sunday, in Sun-drenched Meeting for Worship, the original gospel version of Charlie Murphy's "Light is Returning" kept running through my head:
After some more silent worship (both inner and outer), Sally Rogers' "Circle of the Sun" came to me and stayed for a while:
...perhaps because I've been thinking and writing quite a bit lately on the circle of life and community, and some of my worship was centered on both community and isolation, there in the Sun-drenched Meetingroom.
There was some vocal ministry that spoke to me deeply; it sprang from from Advices and Queries 18:
How can we make the meeting a community in which each person is accepted and nurtured, and strangers are welcome? Seek to know one another in the things which are eternal, bear the burden of each other's failings and pray for one another. As we enter with tender sympathy into the joys and sorrows of each other's lives, ready to give help and to receive it, our meeting can be a channel for God's love and forgiveness.
I don't know if the vocal minister would have considered their ministry to be about diversity or individual differences within the Meeting community, but it's one of the ways their ministry spoke to me, resonated with me, and left me with more to worship about and think about. All good things.
Two other Friends gave vocal ministry about the importance of community during times of hardship -- again, speaking to me very deeply.
Back in October, a Girl Scout troop leader in CO refused to admit a transgender girl into her troop. The Girl Scouts of Colorado said the troop leader was unaware of Girl Scout policy, and issued this statement:
Girl Scouts is an inclusive organization and we accept all girls in Kindergarten through 12th grade as members. If a child identifies as a girl and the child's family presents her as a girl, Girl Scouts of Colorado welcomes her as a Girl Scout.
GSCO supposedly eventually admitted her. It's not clear to me if they did.
Fast forward to last week:
Girl Scout Cookie Time is right around the corner, and a video calling for a boycott of Girl Scout cookies went viral on the web and hit the news. In addition, a lot of people were suddenly talking about several GS troops that had withdrawn from Girl Scouts of the USA and formed their own troops or joined other scouting organizations. Both the call for the boycott and the withdrawals are over this issue -- not the issue that a troop leader had been transphobic, but the issue that there might be transgender girls in the GSUSA.
Now there's a counter-movement to buy lots more Girl Scout cookies than usual.
So you may well have heard about the Great Girl Scout Boycott/Buycott/Girlcott. It's all over teh interwebs. There are Facebook events, news stories, blog posts, email discussions, Facebook discussions, you name it.
Suddenly, lots more people than usual want to buy Girl Scout cookies, in support of an organization that supports transgender youth.
People want to buy cookies.
It's an easy thing to do that makes us feel better, and it helps us feel like we've made a statement. I know the idea feels to me like thumbing my nose at the video-maker, the transphobic troop leader, and the breakaway troops. And it supports Girl Scout programs financially.
But -- is buying cookies really taking action to support transgender youth?
Is buying (or selling) Girl Scout cookies really the best way to support transgender girls?
The best way to make sure transgender girls have access to Girl Scouts?
The best way to make sure they have safe experiences in Girl Scouts?
The girl in CO supposedly was admitted to her troop. The troop leader had previously said some pretty transphobic things. Has the troop leader's attitude changed? If this girl was admitted, what kind of experience is she having now? Is it a positive one? A negative one? Somewhere in between? Is she safe?
If you're involved in Girl Scouts, are transgender girls in your area certain they're welcome in your troop? How do they know they're welcome at all, much less that they'll be safe, referred to by the proper pronouns, etc?
Are transgender girls truly welcome in your troop? That's the official word -- how true is it in the hearts of the people in your local organization?
Is transgender girls aren't welcome, or if they don't know that they are, is that something you want to change?
How does buying, or selling, cookies help bring transgender girls into Girl Scouting? (There are ways it might -- what are those ways?)
How does it help them have positive experiences there?
How does it help cisgender adults to whom this is new territory adapt and deal with their discomfort?
How does it help cisgender girls know what behavior is appropriate, or whose lead to follow?
If nothing else, the Great Cookie Kerfuffle is helping us have a conversation about all this.
I have an article published in the January 2012 issue of Friends Journal! It's about some of the reasons people do "unacceptable" things in Meeting for Worship, and how those reasons relate to accessibility and ministry.
The piece appears on page 13 of the print edition (how appropriate!) and is titled, "Accessibility, Handwork, and Ministry in Meeting for Worship."
And now I have that same feeling I do when I was led to speak in Meeting for Worship, or Meeting for Worship with Attention to Business, but didn't. Or when someone has insulted me, or someone else in my hearing, based on religion, gender, class, or something similar, and I didn't speak up.
My conscience is ruffled, like the surface of a body of water is ruffled when it is disturbed. This uneasy feeling won't leave me. I am not at peace.
