Some years ask questions. And some years answer them.

  • Zora Neale Hurston

Today is the Summer Solstice. Our planet is at its orbit's closest point to the Sun, and the life force just pours down on us. We bask in the energy that floods down as heat and sunlight, on the longest day. The trees, the fields, the gardens—everything is in full leaf and flower. We celebrate the abundance of this season.

The intensity of energy at the Solstice is accompanied this year by sorrow and shock over yet another shooting of innocent people, this one apparently motivated by violent racism. The time of Summer's beginning has deep significance in African-American history-- this was the time of the the famous drumming and dancing in Congo Square in New Orleans; Juneteenth commemorated the signing of the Emancipation Proclamation. The Summer Solstice has magickal significance in so many cultures, but for me, the weight of sorrow over the events in Charleston this week has been the shadow on this day of strongest light.

We stand in a time of beauty and plenty and abundance, and so many of us live surrounded by ugliness, violence, and poverty. So many structures in our society hold this in place. In this time of highest, deepest, most radiant power, can we stand for what's right? Can our anger and weeping be part of the fuel of transformation? What can we bring forward to catalyze this alchemy of healing and justice? Is it even imaginable to you? Earlier this week, Pope Francis issued his encyclical on climate change, urging his followers worldwide to regard better stewardship of the planet as a moral duty. As Pagans, this is a call we answered long ago, but the moment has never been more dire. The violence and exploitation rife in our culture, dished out on human bodies and entire ecosystems alike, demands a response, demands that we all act in alignment with out values. May we all, in this time of strongest light, find the strength to be the change we wish to see in the world.

In my backyard, stacked against the wall, is a pile of lumber, huge tree branches that came down in a late spring snow storm as well as some overgrown shrubs I sawed back several weeks ago. I should have cleared this out by now. As the weather gets hotter and drier, this old, dry wood poses a fire hazard: it could be fuel for a fire, and so it needs t be cleared out. As I turn my attention to all things that demand redress and attention and healing, I wonder how can I fuel these changes? What resources do I have, that I could expend for these goals? How will I fuel and support myself, and my community, while this work goes on?

In this moment of celebration, all things seem possible. Drink it in, and move towards a better world.