I prefer the solstice as a marker myself. I like the connection between us and the light, that is the focus of winter solstice.
It makes me think of the ancient peoples who built all those strange and wonderful and perfectly logical calendars in the land- Stone Henge, Avebury, New Grange.
Taking those shards of light, engineered to appear on the very day of the solstice. Taking time and light and making it comprehensible and human, visible and tangible. They are no more, no less, than the turn of the planet made visible. The solar system distilled. A time to start again, to walk away from. I try to imagine what it would have been like to live in ‘deep time’. No hours, minutes, appointments to cling to. Literally, living in time, being time. And I can’t, it’s a leap too far.
Perhaps the markers we still like to keep, celebrate, even ritualise- Solstice, Christmas, New Years- are our way of getting ourselves back into time with ourselves. In rhythm. As if the needle had skipped over the course of the year, and we found ourselves ahead of life, or behind, running to get back to the place where life is. Needing to place the needle back at the beginning of the song.
What will my song be this year? I don’t know yet. I’m trying not to to be too rigid about it. It will take in nature and making. And I want it to be active in protecting what I can of the natural world. I want to face the storm of our crisis and try not to let the enormity of it all paralyse and engulf me. I want to take little steps. Now is as good a time as any to place the needle in the groove.
