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When the World Feels Icky
It’s particularly bad where I am right now. We are experiencing a heat wave that will drive temps up over 110° F today, and even higher tomorrow. In addition, smoke from the wildfires in the northern part of the state has been blown down here, casting a pall over everything and bringing a sharp, unpleasant taste to the air. The sunlight itself is a nauseous yellow, pounding down heat in a creepily still, hotbox environment of smoke. We even had a little earthquake yesterday morning. All in all, it feels like disaster is everywhere. Of course, that’s kind of how it’s been ever since November 8, 2016, when the worst…
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Harvest 2016
We’re coming up to Harvest this week. I’ll be having friends over to enjoy a feast of locally produced food and drink, which is how I like to celebrate this sabbath: as a kind of Atheopagan Thanksgiving. Last year, I wrote about the shadow sabbath: what happens when the events of life aren’t congruent with the metaphorical themes of a given holiday. It was a hard time of financial distress, having been forced to move from my beloved home of 18 years, and the destruction of a nearby retreat, Harbin Hot Springs, to fire. This year is better. We found another—albeit much less beautiful—place to live, and I am employed gainfully. We have enough to…
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Harvest of Ashes: A Shadow Sabbath
It’s supposed to be a time of bounty: the gardens overflowing, the grapes coming in to be crushed, the hard blue sky of autumn whispering, “hurry, time’s a-wasting.” A time for feasting with friends and reveling in sunsets; a time for sporadic hints of the wild weather to come. But what are we to make of Harvest—of the autumnal equinox—when the crops have failed or burned? How do we celebrate plenty when we are bereft? How, in short, do we observe the Wheel of the Year when life isn’t cooperative with its narratives? When tragedy comes at High Spring, or birth at Hallows, or joblessness at Yule, how do we continue…
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An Atheopagan Life: Observances Around the Year (Sept/Oct)
Autumn on the North Coast of California is an odd time. Our climate is a Mediterranean-style cycle of winter rains and a completely dry summer, and the transitional seasons are subtle in character. In fall, we experience the hottest period of the year, as while summer mornings are characterized by ocean fog that cools most days to temperate comfort, the weaker sun of September and October cannot drive the fog system so effectively. As a result, these months bring lengthy stretches of days in the nineties, parching lands which haven’t seen rain in months to what feels an aching dryness, as empty creek beds and golden-brown hills attest. We do…
