Solstice

Today’s the Summer Solstice in the Northern Hemisphere, marking the official beginning of summer. In the Southern Hemisphere, this Solstice marks the beginning of winter; i.e. the Winter Solstice. A Solstice, and there’s two of them each year, one in June and another in December, mark endings and beginnings.

The Summer Solstice, for example, marks the entry into the summer season of play and light clothes and friends and picnics. But at the same time, it marks the end of the Earth’s tip toward the Northern Hemisphere. In other words, our days begin to get shorter, even if incrementally, and we’re falling into winter – although I can hear my friends who each winter long for summer moaning at this reminder.

We don’t always remember to hold our endings when we begin – anything… a life, a project, celebrations. We’d rather hold the longing for a beginning rather than recognize the end coming with it.

I’m trying to hold all that now and think about it – hold a beginning and an ending at the same time. Here’s a concrete example to grasp: the oak tree that shades my writing space rustles in glory. It’s a mature tree, tall, and the sun won’t hit the front window here until about noon – at which time it will pass over the house so this room stays cool. But in the winter, that same tree has lost its leaves and allows the same blessing of sun, only its opposite, to enter this room and warm it.

But those are only examples. The reality of holding endings and beginnings at the same time – well, there is no concrete reality. Holding them both is a concept, rather, a knowing, an “is” which is hardly more help. That’s sort of like knowing God is an “is” in the great “I Am.” Okay. And what’s the reality of that???

I’ve been thinking about the reality of is-ness a lot lately.   

The world IS in a stew, to say the least; the weather IS pretty chaotic; drought IS in Western Kansas while flood IS in Eastern Kansas. Oh, and by the way, the Sun IS a little nuts right now and today hurled a solar flare earthward – which will reach earth’s magnetic field about the 23rd. Thank you for the early fireworks.

I’ve given up making sense of just about anything – except my life IS okay. Right now. And right now IS what we have.

Perhaps that IS the way to hold the beginnings and the endings – staying in that place of is-ness.

So there’s my meandering wandering for today. Any insights would be welcome.

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9 thoughts on “Solstice

  1. How serendipitous that in the process of re-claiming the Is-ness of my life as it IS today, I come back to your blog that I only “whizzed by” in my own frenetic storm.

    I have to work at this issue of IS. I am one of those kinetic souls who prefers to BE, if not to at least DO.

    And so, in my own blog of the same day you wrote, my IS revolves around the reality that for me to BE I must accept what IS and focus only on what is truly mine to DO.

    And for me, that challenge IS to just BE. Just BE. That’s all that God and The Universe expect of me. Anything more than that is superfluous, if not a delay in what IS.

  2. Ah, of course, I’m one of the ones who sigh at the thought that first day of summer begins our trip back to winter, which has it’s sweet moments, i agree, but it’s not my favorite season, as the warm, light seasons are.

    Is-ness seems to require letting go of controlling, or attempting to control what falls outside our jurisdiction, which seems to include practically everything except our personal behavior choices, and not always those. It seems that living on planet earth is like riding a combined merry-go-round, ferris wheel, roller coaster, water slide. This is the lesson i have learned from riding these rides, literally–do not attempt to slow or alter the course of the ride by clinging to anything that’s whizzing past.

    Is this also a lesson in is-ness? Let go, let it be, enjoy the ride, trust the designer of the ride?

    On a bright, 75 degree day, with a pastel skies dotted with cotton balls, it seems easier to trust that all is well—trustworthy—even as the cotton balls whiz by, some collecting into larger clouds. Is-ness in motion–always in motion, even when we lie still.

  3. if a thing IS it CAN be noticed, i find that things are.

    i.m a big fan of obituaries. i have been told this is morbid. so i thought about that. morbid, i have decided, has nothing to do with my interest. i’m not celebrating their death, though in some cases that’s the interesting part. the actress from the attack of the 50 woman, and other sci-fi movies wasn’t found for a year and was next to a space heater, she was mummified. the exception that proves the rule. my interest is, when they go i want to know about it. it’s a celebration of a life that i found meaningful. i think, how much i liked the movies, their songs, their work with the poor or suffering, or just congratulate them for living a cool life. not the beginning not the end just the is (or was) of their lives. if you can find a copy of sunday’s washington post, below the clarence clemons obit, was BILL HAAST 100, snake expert. long story wonderful read. cool guy

    1. Thanks, Willy. I like obits too – have a stack of them culled from papers up near the farm. Those old farm folk had a tale to tell! And I’ve never heard the story of how Jimmy Habrick got a wife named Juanita – whose name I only remembered from his obit – although I do remember going up the road to their shivaree – which word I have no idea how to spell but it meant harassing the newlyweds on their wedding night. Juanita Habrick. Say that three times! Sort of confuses the auditory bells.

  4. Live IS okay is all we can hope for, plus a few moments of joy. I always have a hard time realizing that the summer solstice is the peak, when it seems that summer is just beginning. Of course, this year, the heat wave breaks on the solstice, and we have a lovely day.

  5. I’ve been practicing IS-ness lately too – just didn’t have a word for it. This morning, although I didn’t realize it was the first day of summer, I thought of the fact that the days will begin to get shorter soon. The knowing brought a mournful feeling because its only during this time of year I get to leave and come home during daylight hours. Even while mourning the loss of daylight hours, though, I thought of how much I enjoy feeding my horses on the cold moonlit nights of winter. That brought a smile to my face and also brought me back to the center of IS-ness 🙂

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