These are the long days, in the Northern Hemisphere. The days of long, languid evenings, full of song and sex and celebration. Cookouts and trips to the beach; days of sunblock and wide-brimmed hats.
It’s Midsummer: the Sabbath of Leisure.
I imagine this was the way in Olde Europe: crops were planted and growing but not yet ready for harvest, and there wasn’t much else to do but lounge around, drink beer and fool around. Perhaps mine is an idealized imagining; it doesn’t matter, because my Atheopaganism isn’t about Olde Tymes anyway.
It’s about now. The gorgeous generosity of now.
As I write, the Sun is finally down and light is disappearing at a quarter to nine in the evening. A twilight glow illuminates the flowers on our patio which burn in the residual light. I consider the possibility of a fire in the fire pit; maybe, maybe not.
Could be too much effort. Because this is all about relaxing.
I’m big into rituals: Sabbaths. Rites of Passage. Transformations.
But Midsummer to me is always about relaxing and enjoying life. Letting the pleasure come to me instead of pursuing it.
Preferably in a hammock. With a mojito.
I have a lot of things in my life to be joyful about: my new job, the gorgeous weather, the beauty of where I live, the accomplishment of my new book, the incredible community I have around me. And this is a moment when I’m going to enjoy them. To really celebrate.
Tomorrow, due to a friend’s generosity, Nemea and I will drive to a local hot spring place in a magnificent setting, and walk around naked on the summer solstice. We’ll soak in the pools and just be.
I’ll make an offering to the Sun, pour a libation to the bright sky. But that’s probably all, for this Sabbath.
I can’t imagine a more fitting and joyous way to celebrate it.
