the longest night of the year

It is the shortest day. It will be the longest night. There will be feasting and celebrations, remembrance of the seasons that came before, a sparkling tide of good wishes to carry us through the darkness and into the seasons ahead. Bonfires will be lit this night, not for fertility and merriment, but for warmth. Hot mulled wines will be served, hot spiced ciders from this year's harvests, because tomorrow will begin the fortifications against winter's deep chill.

Today is the winter solstice. Today is Yule.

I admit, I'm something of a cobble, religiously. While most of my practice now does center on Ásatrú, I began the journey in Celtic Wicca--and, though most of my holidays are Ásatrú placements on the year, Beltane, Samhain and Yule remain the mix of old and new. This is partially because, even though everyone in my family's social circle, growing up, proclaimed Christianity, and taught their children Christianity, we also had touches of that Celtic mysticism. We were an extended Christian family that lit the Balefires in June. We were a Christian family who knew the veil thinned in October, who celebrated the longest night. Looking back on it now, as an adult, I realize that this was very odd for most Americans, but for my cousins and I, this was what everyone did, because everyone around us did these things.

So for me, December 21st means Yule, means staying up and celebrating until the light returns, means keeping the lights burning so that the sun remembers to return. And from a purely scientific perspective, this is a ludicrous idea, and scientifically, we know this. But there are a lot of bizarre religious beliefs. Hindus believe the universe was sung into being by a multi-armed entity. Buddhists believe the universe is a sleeping god's dream. Ásatrúar believe the universe was licked out of deep-frozen ice by a space cow. So really, no one who proclaims any faith has a leg to stand on where physics and reality are concerned.

But we still have Yule. The shortest day, the longest night. The Oak King, old and fading, giving way for the Holly King, young and vibrant, to accompany the Goddess through the dormant months. (Even in this, my family's practices differed from the norm, as for many Wiccans the Oak King is already full in his power at the Summer Solstice, and the Holly King is in full evergreen blush at the Winter Solstice. But for us, the Oak King takes over at Beltane, and the Holly King takes over at Yule.) Winter, after all, is not solely a season of death and sleeping, but of possibilities germinating, of new growth to come, ruminations, contemplations, the snap of cold to bring the sap to the surface. After all, there are still harvests that happen in winter--ice wines, maple syrups, a wide variety of greens can still grow through the winter. Carrots, turnips and radishes can still be grown, though it is rare to get them to harvest's end in a survivable form. And animals during this time, raised for meat, were traditionally slaughtered in the winter, so that the cold would keep the rot away until the meats could be properly dressed, smoked or dried in preparation of the cold to come.



So merry Wintertide to all, whatever your flavor of celebration is, and may the coming year be bright and bursting with good things. Here's to the bright dawn to come!