A Dread Unfounded (Dispatches from the Underground)
How did we do in our June predictions? Plus rituals, friends, and the Human in the East on the Longest Day
Ever since word went out on the street six months ago that June and July of 2019 would be dark, treacherous, ugly months, I’ve been dreading the start of June. Imagine that — my favorite month of the year, by far, and I spend the whole time leading up to it in dread, wishing it away. It’s silly. Beyond difficulty and calamity, as I mentioned in my outlook at the beginning of the month, I felt dread at the prospect that my beloved Midsummer might come and go without suitable joy and jubilation and commemoration.
Think about having an out-and-out bad Christmas. Even the luckiest among us have had one or two. But it stings a bit extra when that happens. A once-a-year event like Christmas reminds us that we only get so many Christmases and that we can’t really afford to burn any of them. I feel this way about Christmas and also, equally so, my summer solstice.
We only get so many.
But here was a dread unfounded. Solstice 2019 did not involve getting lost and stuck on a cliff in increasing darkness on Monadnock, nor were there debauched parties, nor even have I yet made it to the Cathedral of the Pines for my customary solstice prayers. Nonetheless, how this solstice came to manifest itself proved beyond my wildest dreams.
For starters, Kellie and I had planned a Midsummer’s Eve picnic at Cunningham Pond for a mid-sized crew last Thursday night. The picnic itself was rained out, but many of us gathered instead in the downstairs at Harlow’s, breaking bread and toasting good cheer with the mischievous twilight sinking outside the window. It was delightful.
Later that night, I went out to Putnam Park to conduct some proper wizard rituals — something I thought I might blow off but mustered the energy to bust out around midnight in the rain.
It was Midsummer itself, however, that took the prize. One of my top-top-level goals for this year has been to really dive into worship work at the UU church and as part of this, I suggested back in March that we do a summer solstice service. The church year technically ended last Sunday, and though there’s a spectacular annual winter solstice cantata, the summer break has traditionally meant Midsummer gets the shaft — and that’s no way to treat my favorite holiday.
My proposal met with support and in the end, four of us — myself, Zoë Wroten-Heinzmann, Stewart Harris, and music director Marybeth Hallinan — collaborated pretty much equally in the composition of a completely original 40-minute solstice service, complete with word, song, chanting, and great ritual. With about a month to go, we had the bright idea to hold it outside, in Putnam Park,the holiest park in Peterborough.
It was a bit of a roll of the dice given that we had no backup option were it to rain — the church itself was booked with a prior engagement for another group. As it turned out, the evening was magnificent: cool and breezy, not too many bugs, not a drop of rain, spectacular clouds dancing across the sky.
Beyond my meteorological fortune, I felt so unbelievably fortunate to have worked with this group to create this ritual. I expected about six people to show up, and I would have been perfectly happy with that. Gotta start somewhere, after all, and a solstice ritual is not about the audience so much as the doing of the ritual itself.
We had 60 people in a circle in the park that night. I was floored. I am floored. Just the fact that we were engaged in this ritual was enough for me to call it a dream come true, but this just blew my mind.
A million thanks to my co-conspirators and also to all the wonderful people who came. Solstice 2019, yes, even in the midst of this supposedly damned month, is one I’ll remember for the rest of my life.
We even had an encounter with The Human in the East.
Oh and we are definitely doing this again. 60 people in 2019 is just the beginning.
That brings me to my predictions for the month. What can I say? I nailed this one. I don’t mean to be overly boastful about it, but sometimes you just hit it right. It will be difficult, I said, but we will survive. We will not be crushed by it.
It was difficult, and we were not crushed by it.
Hell, this month, I even listened to myself!
Beyond the usual fears of catastrophic persecution and economic disaster, I was afraid that June would be hard. It was hard. There was plenty of good in it, but even that good was hard won. I don’t like it when things are hard. I avoid them. But at least at this point in my life I’m aware that this is a character defect even if I can’t do much about it. I avoid the difficult because I believe struggle to be unpleasant, even though it is only through struggle that we grow and achieve and progress and gain.
It’s silly to blow off or postpone growth and achievement and progress and gains simply because of the difficulty or even mild pain associated. Life is nothing without these things. Even were it not for the glorious high moments scattered throughout this time, the difficulty itself has made it a good month. We need this right now, and we always do better by recognizing such things and declining to fight them.
Despite my dread, I did decline to fight. And I was better off.
Doesn’t hurt that the message was both simple and digestible, but in rereading each section of the forecast, I’m a little taken aback by it. In real life, of course, we got tons of rain (it was also unseasonably cool) but in a spiritual sense, the metaphor of waiting for the rain is a perfect lens through which to have viewed these past few weeks. We know the rain is coming — it always does. We don’t know when it’s coming, but we know it will. We can’t make it happen, we just need to chill out, hang on, and wait.
To be sure, as we’ll see quite clearly in a couple of days with our July outlook, we’re still waiting on that rain. We might’ve gotten a few sprinkles here or there, but the rain we need has continued to hold off. That’s all right; the same principle applies, and we’re at least a little bit used to it now. Hang on and don’t give up — the rain will come.
As we wait, we were promised the opportunity to celebrate and enjoy the company of others. I hope that you took that opportunity. I did. I had a great time with people this month and I did a bunch of celebrating. The opportunity was there for the taking.
And hey, no shade from me if you ignored my advice, but I can only help you if you take it. If you did take the advice, say, to avoid going on the offense and adopt a posture of modesty, I would stake my entire nonexistent fortune in saying that this paid off for you. It paid off for me. The victories were small, or at least seem so, and that’s exactly what was promised.
Onward into whatever may be in store for us! If June has taught us anything, in the final estimation, let it be that we can and will get through all of this, out to something better on the other side.
The rain will come and the fields will rejoice.
As for me, I absolutely WILL rejoice in these final days of the month, for this weekend promises greatness and triumph. Friday night is the long-awaited (and now sold out) Space Force show at Harlow’s (the Copacabana). Everyone’s favorite new Pink Floyd tribute band — comprised of some of the finest gentlemen I have the pleasure to know — has been out touring all of New England, pounding that pavement every single weekend, leaving their homes and loved ones behind in pursuit of fortune and fame on the frontier. And they’ve been finding it.
Now they come home, where they will be greeted with a hero’s welcome — and, at least, a packed out Copa.
Then Saturday, at long long long last, it is the first of this year’s scheduled seven Sacred Mountain Climbs. I have not been up Monadnock yet this year, which is practically a crime, and I am dying to do so. It is calling to me. Finally, this weekend, I will answer the call — accompanied by a high-caliber coterie of professional sojourners, no less. More fun and much stories to follow.
Final note: I’ve found it necessary to spend the bulk of my dispatches this month talking mostly about surviving the bad astrological weather. I’m sure I’ve made all this as entertaining as anyone can, but I also won’t blame you for getting bored about this, because I’m actually bored about it myself.
Next week we’ll skip dispatches due to the holiday (it’s fuckin’ America time guys) but when we come back, rest assured it’ll be time to mix things up a little bit. Until then, look alive out there!