Summer Solstice 2018

summer solstice 2018-2 - 1

06.21.18

And, so the cycle continues.  The earth tilts on its axis, to the same degree every time, on the same day, at the same instant for everyone, to bring us maximum sunlight here in the Northern Hemisphere.  It is the Summer Solstice once again.  In many cultures, the solstice can mean a culmination, an end.  The sun is now setting and rising as far north as it ever does, and tomorrow, the sun begins its subtle shift southward once again.  “Thus even in summer’s beginning we find the seeds of summers end.” (EarthSky.org).

But here, at my house, we are just focused on summer’s beginning.  Sheets are hanging in the sunshine, as I ready the guest rooms for the family soon to arrive.  The sailboat–focus of Don’s attention for months–arrived at its mooring ball today and is bobbing out there off the dock amidst the diamonds shining on the water.  The pair of loons swam by earlier this afternoon.   We’ve been getting ready for summer for a long time.  The Chinese sound of Summer Solstice is ‘laughing’–so good for the heart, so good for the soul.  I am really looking forward to sinking into long sunny days, filled with the laughter of friends and family.   It’s an opportunity to “find joy among the sorrows of the world.”(Joseph Campbell).  We need summer–‘It is a limb you swung from, a field you go back to.  It is a part of whatever you do.’

The Arrival of the Past, by Scott Owens

You wake wanting the dream
you left behind in sleep,
water washing through everything,
clearing away sediment
of years, uncovering the lost
and forgotten. You hear the sun
breaking on cold grass,
on eaves, on stone steps
outside. You see light
igniting sparks of dust
in the air. You feel for the first
time in years the world
electrified with morning.

You know something has changed
in the night, something you thought
gone from the world has come back:
shooting stars in the pasture,
sleeping beneath a field
of daisies, wisteria climbing
over fences, houses, trees.

This is a place that smells
like childhood and old age.
It is a limb you swung from,
a field you go back to.
It is a part of whatever you do.

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