Asa the Sun inexorably begins to return, there are important days to remember along the path. This week, for instance, average daily high temperatures began to rise. We are gaining several minutes of daylight every day or two and even casual observers are beginning to take notice. This Imbolc fire I will use to roast some more wood, beginning, once again the soil building cycle that has been going on in my life for decades. In pagan circles, this high holy day is when the masculine force of the sun begins the rite of fertilizing the womb of Maiden Earth, stirring within the "virgin" new life which will grow, blossom and set the fruits of abundance over the next several seasons.
My plans will be slightly disrupted by the vagaries of a calendar designed by someone else, but the window of time that I celebrate will have to accept the availability that the call of wage slavery demands. As with most events, there is a portal that opens, invites us to revel and that then slowly closes. The idea of anything remaining static according to the structures we design to help us keep track of the passage of time is vaguely silly if not wholly inaccurate. As a young boy and into my middle years, I frequently heard people discuss "Indian Time". Ironically, it seemed to be said slightly more often by native people, but when it was spoken by members of the dominant culture, it held nasty connotations. Laziness was implied, the affront to timeliness was inherent in the utterance and "primitive" or uncivilized aspects of this very real phenomena were paramount in the message behind the meaning of just being late.
For many years I thought that a more perfect world could be possible if we just allowed people to set their watches back whenever they felt that they needed "more time". Honoring the fact that clockwork is designed to emulate our concept of time, rather than the opposite would go a long way toward freeing us from the strictures of colonialist oppression. The sad fact is that many of the lies we continue to tell ourselves are what tie our hands when we make any attempt to move toward a more civilized and humane cultural expression. If we were to ask one hundred people what single change would have the greatest effect on their health and happiness, it is hard to imagine more than a few saying that honoring the time that they wish to spend doing what they love would help make life better, but if we asked specifically about the value of not having a schedule, many would admit to feeling pressured by the clock frequently.
Who does not know someone who sets their clocks ahead, five, ten fifteen, even twenty minutes fast so they can get placed "on time". This has always seemed ironic because we describe buying on credit as buying on time as well. In our culture, we seem to have a propensity of ways to make bad things sound better than they really are and to worship concepts that were meant to be tools as if they are the ultimate goal that needs to be achieved. In resetting our internal clocks, tuning in to greater cyclic events, we often find that our relationship to time must certainly change.
It is true that when you are eager and motivated or committed to a cause, "Ten minutes early is five minutes late." but so many things in our lives seem unworthy of our eagerness and incapable of inspiring even any of the precursors to motivation. The essential quality of being present often requires living, not by the clock, but by the time signature of the heartbeat. Imbolc, for me, helps keep that drumbeat/heartbeat alive with the creative forces of the multiverse. It seems funny to know that "Groundhog Day" is actually a pagan holiday co-opted for a media event. As fervently as some might deny it, there is a distinct change taking place energetically. The ancient, and I believe more civilized, ancestors used to celebrate this time, not just for the fun of it, but to give back and entice the Sun in whatever ways they could fathom to return. Honoring the great gifts that come with the Sun's return was as normal and natural to our ancestors as the drawing of breath and the eventual death to which we must all, one day, succumb.
I am coming out of a week and a half of a very hectic and very heavy work, but the Light is returning. although we will inevitably have another six weeks of "winter", in my cosmology, this is the first rite of Spring. When I spark the festival fire, it will be in honor of the Sun, whose energy has been stored by wood. It will be to respect and enhance the fecund nature of Mother Earth. It will be to give back to the spirits of the "time" or season and reflect on how the crone passes and the maiden is born. The back of Winter has not yet been broken. In my neck of the woods, next week's temperatures are expected to prove that, but on balance, the grip of winter begins to relent and the quickening that comes with the change of seasons has begun.
Whether you make grain dolls, sun circles, or sweet cakes to remember the season, take whatever time you need to re-set your internal clock. Heck, even if you just tune in to watch Punxatawny Phil, remember the real reason for the season, Father Sun, Mother Earth and the triple goddess, Maiden Mother and Crone.
My plans will be slightly disrupted by the vagaries of a calendar designed by someone else, but the window of time that I celebrate will have to accept the availability that the call of wage slavery demands. As with most events, there is a portal that opens, invites us to revel and that then slowly closes. The idea of anything remaining static according to the structures we design to help us keep track of the passage of time is vaguely silly if not wholly inaccurate. As a young boy and into my middle years, I frequently heard people discuss "Indian Time". Ironically, it seemed to be said slightly more often by native people, but when it was spoken by members of the dominant culture, it held nasty connotations. Laziness was implied, the affront to timeliness was inherent in the utterance and "primitive" or uncivilized aspects of this very real phenomena were paramount in the message behind the meaning of just being late.
For many years I thought that a more perfect world could be possible if we just allowed people to set their watches back whenever they felt that they needed "more time". Honoring the fact that clockwork is designed to emulate our concept of time, rather than the opposite would go a long way toward freeing us from the strictures of colonialist oppression. The sad fact is that many of the lies we continue to tell ourselves are what tie our hands when we make any attempt to move toward a more civilized and humane cultural expression. If we were to ask one hundred people what single change would have the greatest effect on their health and happiness, it is hard to imagine more than a few saying that honoring the time that they wish to spend doing what they love would help make life better, but if we asked specifically about the value of not having a schedule, many would admit to feeling pressured by the clock frequently.
Who does not know someone who sets their clocks ahead, five, ten fifteen, even twenty minutes fast so they can get placed "on time". This has always seemed ironic because we describe buying on credit as buying on time as well. In our culture, we seem to have a propensity of ways to make bad things sound better than they really are and to worship concepts that were meant to be tools as if they are the ultimate goal that needs to be achieved. In resetting our internal clocks, tuning in to greater cyclic events, we often find that our relationship to time must certainly change.
It is true that when you are eager and motivated or committed to a cause, "Ten minutes early is five minutes late." but so many things in our lives seem unworthy of our eagerness and incapable of inspiring even any of the precursors to motivation. The essential quality of being present often requires living, not by the clock, but by the time signature of the heartbeat. Imbolc, for me, helps keep that drumbeat/heartbeat alive with the creative forces of the multiverse. It seems funny to know that "Groundhog Day" is actually a pagan holiday co-opted for a media event. As fervently as some might deny it, there is a distinct change taking place energetically. The ancient, and I believe more civilized, ancestors used to celebrate this time, not just for the fun of it, but to give back and entice the Sun in whatever ways they could fathom to return. Honoring the great gifts that come with the Sun's return was as normal and natural to our ancestors as the drawing of breath and the eventual death to which we must all, one day, succumb.
I am coming out of a week and a half of a very hectic and very heavy work, but the Light is returning. although we will inevitably have another six weeks of "winter", in my cosmology, this is the first rite of Spring. When I spark the festival fire, it will be in honor of the Sun, whose energy has been stored by wood. It will be to respect and enhance the fecund nature of Mother Earth. It will be to give back to the spirits of the "time" or season and reflect on how the crone passes and the maiden is born. The back of Winter has not yet been broken. In my neck of the woods, next week's temperatures are expected to prove that, but on balance, the grip of winter begins to relent and the quickening that comes with the change of seasons has begun.
Whether you make grain dolls, sun circles, or sweet cakes to remember the season, take whatever time you need to re-set your internal clock. Heck, even if you just tune in to watch Punxatawny Phil, remember the real reason for the season, Father Sun, Mother Earth and the triple goddess, Maiden Mother and Crone.
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