some things are illuminated

The sun is going down and the clouds are pouring over Twin Peaks, the sun glowing thru with a silver luminescence particular to this magical city. Tomorrow morning the sun will rise and reign over the sky. It will be summer solstice, the longest day of the year. If we are lucky, the sun will triumph and the day will be bright. In San Francisco, summer is unpredictable. I’m rooting for the sun, but with every moment, the fog thickens.

At the beach rituals I participated in for so many years, often planning and priestessing as well, we would build a wicker man and burn him. To the odd assortment of baskets and branches rigged up to create an effigy of a man, we would attach old spells, charms, letters, and other things we were ready to let go of. As the days have gotten longer I’ve been thinking about what has been illuminated in the last turn of the wheel. This of course, has led me to looking at what I am ready to let go of.

For many years, my practice as a witch focused primarily on creating and executing the big public rituals, and I couldn’t imagine a time when they would not be central to my experience of practicing the Craft. I’m thankful for the decades of adherence to these rituals, they all still sing in me. I can’t imagine witches not being out at the beach solstice eve. However, I no longer feel the pull to the big public ritual, but find my daily experience and awareness of the cycling of the seasons to be the stuff of my spirituality.

Today at my office, I cleared out my drawers and files. Last week I cleaned out my bedroom closet. I’ve been letting go of things gradually, and for some things too painful to mention, I’ve been grieving. All the while, I've been breathing into the increasing light, delighting in the summer fruits, and acknowledging the beauty in my life. The love affair of last summer solstice has deepened into partnership. My home is full of laughter and full of teenagers, including my goddess daughter - "home" for the summer. So much has been revealed, and although there are pockets of hurt and disappointment, light triumphs.

As I’ve been writing this, the sun has gone down, and the city lights glow in the dark. I am so glad for my years being a witch, for the attention spent on the gradations of the turn of the wheel, to the noticing of the push and pull of sun and moon, for the deep understanding of the sacredness of both light and dark. Maybe in a few years, I will long for the big public rituals, maybe I will need them once again. Right now, I’m fine with what it is. That is just one of the many things this solstice has illuminated. I am so grateful.