Tags

, ,

 This is the thirteenth post in the 30 days to Druidry series.


Equinox. Solstice.

The four festivals of the sun break up the suns cycles into fullest, waning half, lowest and waxing half. The two halves are known as equinoxes and here, the length of day and night are equal. As the fire festivals relate to the turning of the earth, and of sunlight also, I wonder why they’re named as such. Surely these four are fire festivals too?  It’s interesting to ponder the use of language in these terms.

 

Solstices

The Winter Solstice is the shortest day, when I can sometimes see sunrise and the stillness reaches its own level of quiet. The candles are lit and we say goodbye to a winter we may have feared; yet we bid it farewell with a sense of loss. This space and this gentle quiet float on the winter air, begin to ripple and fade as spring arrives.

 

The Summer Solstice, in comparison, is the longest day. Where we awaken to a bright day and watch it fade well after the evening meal.

The warmth of the sun seems eternal in this moment and I usually forget, this is the goodbye to Summer. In that light I am eternal and time stops; bright and blazing.

 

In the moments of solstice; there’s a stillness of two different qualities; which I fail to find anywhere else in the year.

 

Equinoxes

We come to Spring Equinox, where the glimpses of Summer are around; the air not yet losing it’s crispness but the sun is out for longer and the temperature rises. The ground is alive and the flowers are waking. Life is here.

 

This week sees the Autumn Equinox; my favourite time of year. The sun is still out and summer still lies across the carpet of flowers around me; yet the air gets that crisp scent of coolness and the leaves rustle to make a different music to their normal songs. This is the time I begin to hear the silent gaps in space and feel that steady drum beat of the earth; slow, rhythmic and sturdy.

 

The representation of balance makes this my favourite festival, for the art of the trees, the crisp quiet of the air and my ability to wear knee-high stripy socks.

 

In light,
Rose

About these ads