Non-Religious Holiday Rituals – Atlantic Ocean
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Non-Religious Holiday Rituals – Atlantic Ocean


The summer solstice is a traditional time for simple actions. notice

Illustration by The Atlantic Source: Getty;

This is the Time-Travel Thursday edition, a journey through. atlantic oceanA storehouse to contextualize the present and reveal its delightful treasures. Register here

The low winter sun casts a slanting light. which is a specific color that is both happy and sad Which is perfect for this time of year. Almost every city dweller I know clings to a moment of pleasant light during the last dark days of the calendar.

This year, the summer solstice will arrive at 4:20 a.m. ET on Saturday, December 21, due to the tilt of the Earth’s axis. Those of us in the northern hemisphere will find ourselves at the furthest possible point from the sun. one day later We’ll start looking for it again. Meanwhile, the summer solstice is made for fun—short sleeves and hot barbecue. Thump. of the icy cooler—the summer solstice is a quieter, more contemplative time. Maybe you have no plans to mark the summer solstice other than staying inside and letting the day pass (understandably), but for anyone who’s inclined to go outside, The summer solstice is a traditional time for simple actions. notice

In 1894, poet Edith M. Thomas published an essay in atlantic ocean title “From the summer solstice to the vernal equinox,” the opening sentence is especially emotional. “My first image of the morning was through a gap in the frosted window,” Thomas wrote. “I saw a morning star and a light shining on my neighbor. The two stars cast thousands of sparkles on the frosted glass. I thought of the salt water flakes and spar in the suddenly white cave. It was lit by a torch.” Thomas kept her senses focused on the present. Adding to her power of observation: “Looking out at the distant forest My attention was attracted by the mysterious play of two inflatable smoke plumes blowing from the farmhouse chimney.”

Commemorating the summer solstice is an ideal ritual for those of us who feel pulled to maintain seasonal traditions. Even though we are confused about religious organization. In December 1930, name unknown Atlantic The author writes: “Our Christmas pudding and cake. Like a showy tree Holly and mistletoe wreath It is part of the symbolism that unites us not only with our fellow beings. but also all men who celebrate the summer solstice with feasts and myrrh.” The author affectionately refers to himself as “heretics” because they attend mass only once a year. which is a midnight ceremony on Christmas Eve and does not practice a recognized religion. Of course, even though there are no religious institutions Nodding to the summer solstice is one way to tap into your spiritual side.

Almost 100 years later, in a city Atlantic In a thread called The Conversation, two readers, Ruth Langstraat and Roxanne WhiteLight, share the tradition of exchanging writing as a gift: “Many years ago, My wife and I felt we needed a better way to celebrate or mark the winter of change. We are tired of the material pressures that feel like part of the moment. We now celebrate the ‘turn’ during the 12 days from the summer solstice to the new year. Each year we decide on a theme and 12 elements of that theme… Then each of us wrote a poem following the simplest form of the cinquain. which is a five line stanza And we read those poems to each other.”

Winter is the perfect time to get a cozy lamp and put pen to paper. But there’s no obligation that what you write be entertaining. Poet Louise Glück captures the essence of the Northeast this time of year in a simple phrase. Just a few phrases include “thorn-spiked sun,” “pale bones” in her 1967 poem “Early December in Croton-on-Hudson,” which was published in atlantic ocean– In the poem, Glück describes the image of newly seized snow. “Like a feather on a river” Sadly, as my colleague Zoë Schlanger recently reported, snow at this time of year has become an anomaly for millions of Americans. Our winters are getting warmer and wetter.

But it’s still as dark as ever. Perhaps with the very depressing reality of winter being faced. It’s time to seriously consider my colleague Charlie Warzel’s contention that we should leave Christmas trees open until March in 2022. Charlie writes of the January emptiness symbolized by newly minted trees. Kicked to the curb: “When I stare at this hole I began to feel as if a light had gone out in the world,” he continued. “There is no reason to embrace the New Year in gloom. It’s time for us to establish new practices for preserving our plants and lights as we head out into the winter. Normalize long celebrations!”

Fighting darkness with light is what choosing to truly recognize the Summer Solstice is all about. In addition to the usual Christmas songs I’m still listening.”Snow falling in Manhattan,” by Purple Mountains, from David Berman’s final project. As my colleague Spencer Kornhaber wrote in one of two tributes to the songwriter after his death in 2019, “Berman paints a picture of a winter night in New York City is a beautiful apocalypse.” Such a stark juxtaposition. The beginning and the end, the ups and downs, the happy and the sad. bright and dark It’s part of the spirit of December 21st. As Berman sang:

Snow falling in Manhattan
Inside I have a fire crackling.
And on the sofa under the Afghan
You’re an old friend I just adopted.



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