|Found at the Chalice Well in Glastonbury, UK.|
In Ursula Leguin's Earthsea Novels, the Summer Solstice is celebrated by dancing "the Long Dance" all night, to watch the sun rise in the morning. Something many do on this planet as well, and still. I have done so myself. I wish all the Blessings of the Day, and may we each find a way to "dance the Long Dance" together in body or in spirit this sacred and most primeval day. Here (again, and again) is the poem I share on such days, because the words and harp of the poet will always arise as I look out at the rising sun on the Solstice, the "World's Self Seen" in all of Her abundance, no matter where I am. "Every blue yonder Her brass harp rings" for those who can stop, who will listen to the deep throb of the Heartbeat, to the Harp strings sounding. "She will seal us with Her seed", the poet tells us, and this, strangely, is the taste of immortality I experience, each Solstice, when I stop to listen to the Song that Walks among us.
Every morning when I rise with the sun to water my garden, and especially this morning, I find myself talking to all the people that live there. The tall sunflowers, making seeds beloved by finches and sparrows. The desert tortoise who has decided to live here. My cats, and the green scarab beetles getting drunk on tree sap. The bees, having a drink at the bird bath, and the hummingbird. All the beings sensed and unseen, but friendly somehow too. As a child, the garden was full of "people" for me to visit, and now, an old woman, I seem to have returned again to that happy experience, unconcerned with what others think, and increasingly tired of all my human "identities" at last. So much is possible by just shifting the way we see things, from an "it" to a "you". When we "see with a Webbed Vision". The world becomes again conversant. I think (again) of a story by Ursula Leguin called "May's Lion" that speaks so eloquently to that power of naming. But let the rest of this post belong (again) to the Poet, Robin Williamson. And the Glory of the Summer Solstice!
|Summer Solstice, Brushwood, 2008|
Verses from Powis
I am a lover of the steady Earth
And of Her waters.
She says: “Let the light be brilliant,
for those who will cherish color.”
What if there be no Heaven?
She says: “Touch my Breasts - the fields are golden.”
Her Songs are all of love, lifelong.
Every blue yonder, Her brass harp rings.
Unlettered, in Her rivers our cherished sins
Drift voiceless in Her clouds.
She will rust us with blossom
She will forgive us
She will seal us
with Her seed.
You that create the diversity of the forms:
This being human is a guest-house.
Every morning a new arrival.
A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.
Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they're a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still, treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you
out for some new delight.
The dark thought, the shame, the malice,
meet them at the door laughing,
and invite them in.
Be grateful for whoever comes,
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.
I'm at a funky hot spring I sometimes go to when I need to, and this morning I saw a beautiful snake curled up by my campsite. Determining that it was not a rattle snake, I watched it unwind, flash its forked tongue at me a few times, and then spiral away slowly into the bushes. I felt quite graced by that presence! Which may or may not have anything to do with finding another "book that never happened" in my Blog, and wanting to share it again, as well as to remind myself to not let it just vanish. It was a proposal for a book arts residency that I didn't get. I really should see about just finishing the book myself somehow........................
All images are copyright Lauren Raine MFA (2017)