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gaia_love
13 January 2009 @ 05:46 pm
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02 January 2009 @ 03:39 pm
Got an email from Bridget last week and thought you'd enjoy her story of
the Holly King and the Winter Solstice... **
Snowflakes large enough for fairies to ride float leisurely through the
air to rest on bare alder branches, fir boughs, and of course my head.
Snow is unusual enough here on the Oregon Coast that in my excitement I
rushed out the door without regard to hat or gloves, only hurriedly
donning a jacket under which to shelter the camera. The deer have
already come down the path. There are three sets of tracks so it must
have been the doe and her two young ones, who will come to the door
looking for their daily apple treats soon.**
The deer will have to wait; I'm on a quest to catch the Holly King, God
of the Waning Year, in a regal white robe. The end of his reign nears;
at Yule, the Winter Solstice, his brother the Oak King, the Sun King,
God of the waxing year, will be born and the Holly King's rule
overthrown. Rebirth, growth, hope, new beginnings are poised to arrive
with the Turning of the Year, but I've barely settled into the rest,
inner reflection, and learning the Holly King's rule brings. I'm not
sure I'm ready to let him go; at least I want to capture his image.**
/The holly and the ivy
When they are both full grown
Of all the trees that are in the wood
The holly bears the crown./**
A song we're familiar with, but this adaptation of the chorus perhaps not:**
/Oh, the rising of the sun
And the running of the deer
The shining of the winter stars
As the longer days draw near./**
The Holly King has been leading us to this point since the Summer
Solstice, when he began stealing a little more light from each day. Now
the days have shriveled to a bare flicker. The sun sets in the middle of
the afternoon and frozen nights are endless. Yes, this is an opportunity
for quiet, inner reflection but it feels more as though we've been left
huddling in the dark with the outlines of skeleton trees, no flowers,
and only the heartiest of birds darting thankfully to the feeders. Has
the sun abandoned us to the night?**
Welcome to the Winter Solstice, where the dark triumphs -- but only for
a moment. This is a turning point; the Holly King's reign will end, the
days will grow longer again, as the Oak King, who brings the light, is
quietly born from the womb of the dark night. He's only a small spark,
but we have known in our bones since always that light, no matter how
tiny, means life.**
And so we have magical tales of shining stars, of bright angels, of the
birth of hope and new beginnings to sustain us through the fierce storms
of January, yet to come. The fires we light on the hilltops, the Yule
logs set ablaze in our homes are more than a ritual of ignorant people
to appease the gods and bring back the sun. We string lights on our
homes, our mantles, and the tree in our living room as a recognition of
fire inside, the light in our hearts and as a statement of survival and
the ultimate hope -- that I have inside of me the fire and the light to
continue life. That my own internal light may call forth the light of
the universe to bless my life, my family, my people.**
In lighting the fires, in stringing the lights, we do more than stave
off the darkness, even more than honor the sun. We also stand with
fierce courage to say to the darkness, "You may come this far but no
further!" We have given the darkness its due, we've watched it leach the
light from our lives for as long as we had to; now the long night is
over, we can tentatively bring our own lights back from hiding, and let
the new days begin.**
This Turning of the Year, the returning of the light, this most hopeful
of all days, has been celebrated across cultures and millennia so,
however you choose to participate, you will be part of an ancient
tapestry. Whether you float old ideas and sorrows out to sea on /paper
mache/ boats with candles, make a yule wreath to honor the sacred circle
of life, death and rebirth, find a Yule log and burn it in your
fireplace, or join the Fairies in ringing bells on Solstice morning to
welcome back the sun, remember that this is a festival of inner rebirth.
No matter how dark it seems, how completely dead the world appears,
nature -- including the holly and the ivy and the oak -- teaches us that
there is always rebirth.**
------------------------------
the Holly King and the Winter Solstice... **
Snowflakes large enough for fairies to ride float leisurely through the
air to rest on bare alder branches, fir boughs, and of course my head.
Snow is unusual enough here on the Oregon Coast that in my excitement I
rushed out the door without regard to hat or gloves, only hurriedly
donning a jacket under which to shelter the camera. The deer have
already come down the path. There are three sets of tracks so it must
have been the doe and her two young ones, who will come to the door
looking for their daily apple treats soon.**
The deer will have to wait; I'm on a quest to catch the Holly King, God
of the Waning Year, in a regal white robe. The end of his reign nears;
at Yule, the Winter Solstice, his brother the Oak King, the Sun King,
God of the waxing year, will be born and the Holly King's rule
overthrown. Rebirth, growth, hope, new beginnings are poised to arrive
with the Turning of the Year, but I've barely settled into the rest,
inner reflection, and learning the Holly King's rule brings. I'm not
sure I'm ready to let him go; at least I want to capture his image.**
/The holly and the ivy
When they are both full grown
Of all the trees that are in the wood
The holly bears the crown./**
A song we're familiar with, but this adaptation of the chorus perhaps not:**
/Oh, the rising of the sun
And the running of the deer
The shining of the winter stars
As the longer days draw near./**
The Holly King has been leading us to this point since the Summer
Solstice, when he began stealing a little more light from each day. Now
the days have shriveled to a bare flicker. The sun sets in the middle of
the afternoon and frozen nights are endless. Yes, this is an opportunity
for quiet, inner reflection but it feels more as though we've been left
huddling in the dark with the outlines of skeleton trees, no flowers,
and only the heartiest of birds darting thankfully to the feeders. Has
the sun abandoned us to the night?**
Welcome to the Winter Solstice, where the dark triumphs -- but only for
a moment. This is a turning point; the Holly King's reign will end, the
days will grow longer again, as the Oak King, who brings the light, is
quietly born from the womb of the dark night. He's only a small spark,
but we have known in our bones since always that light, no matter how
tiny, means life.**
And so we have magical tales of shining stars, of bright angels, of the
birth of hope and new beginnings to sustain us through the fierce storms
of January, yet to come. The fires we light on the hilltops, the Yule
logs set ablaze in our homes are more than a ritual of ignorant people
to appease the gods and bring back the sun. We string lights on our
homes, our mantles, and the tree in our living room as a recognition of
fire inside, the light in our hearts and as a statement of survival and
the ultimate hope -- that I have inside of me the fire and the light to
continue life. That my own internal light may call forth the light of
the universe to bless my life, my family, my people.**
In lighting the fires, in stringing the lights, we do more than stave
off the darkness, even more than honor the sun. We also stand with
fierce courage to say to the darkness, "You may come this far but no
further!" We have given the darkness its due, we've watched it leach the
light from our lives for as long as we had to; now the long night is
over, we can tentatively bring our own lights back from hiding, and let
the new days begin.**
This Turning of the Year, the returning of the light, this most hopeful
of all days, has been celebrated across cultures and millennia so,
however you choose to participate, you will be part of an ancient
tapestry. Whether you float old ideas and sorrows out to sea on /paper
mache/ boats with candles, make a yule wreath to honor the sacred circle
of life, death and rebirth, find a Yule log and burn it in your
fireplace, or join the Fairies in ringing bells on Solstice morning to
welcome back the sun, remember that this is a festival of inner rebirth.
No matter how dark it seems, how completely dead the world appears,
nature -- including the holly and the ivy and the oak -- teaches us that
there is always rebirth.**
------------------------------
*
*Authors Website: www.mikemalloy.com
Authors Bio: Mike Malloy is a former writer and producer for CNN
(1984-87) and CNN-International (2000). His professional experience
includes newspaper columnist and editor, writer, rock concert producer
and actor. He is the only radio talk show host in America to have
received the A.I.R (Achievement in Radio) Award in both Chicago and New
York City, the number three and number one radio markets in the country.
His radio experience includes the 50,000 watt blow-torches in both the
South and the Midwest, respectively WSB-AM in Atlanta and WLS-AM in
Chicago, and as one of the original hosts on Air America - a
two-year-long association that ended in a massive train wreck. Mike's
nationally-syndicated program can now be heard weeknights on affiliates
of the Nova M Network and on XM Satellite and Sirius Satellite Radio as
well as on live Internet streaming.
01 May 2008 @ 03:03 pm
| Have you ever stood in the April wood and called the new year in? While the phantoms of three thousand years fly as the dead leaves spin? There's a snap in the grass behind your feet and a tap upon your shoulder. And the thin wind crawls along your neck it's just the old gods getting older. And the kestral drops like a fall of shot and the red cloud hanging high come a Beltane. Have you ever loved a lover of the old elastic truth? And doted on the daughter in the ministry of youth? Thrust your head between the breasts of the fertile innocent. And taken up the cause of love, for the sake of argument. Or while the kisses drop like a fall of shot from soft lips in the rain come a Beltane. Happy old new year to you and yours. The sun's up for one more day, to be sure. Play it out gladly, for your card's marked again. Have you walked around your parks and towns so knife-edged orderly? While the fires are burned on the hills upturned in far-off wild country. And felt the chill on your window-sill as the green man comes around. With his walking cane of sweet hazel brings it crashing down. Sends your knuckles white as the thin stick bites. Well, it's just your groaning pains. Come a Beltane. Come a Beltane. Come a Beltane. Come a Beltane. Come a Beltane. Come a Beltane. Come a Beltane. Come a Beltane. |
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cheerful25 February 2008 @ 03:21 pm
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