A Quiet Lughnasadh

Even though I don't live by the old agricultural calendar/festivals, it's a nice way to stay connected to the Earth. Today is Lughnasadh or Lammas, part of the Celtic calendar when some of the first big harvest would come in, of grain and corn, for example. It's a time to remember that we depend on the Earth's fertility, that even if we shop in grocery stores and buy mostly packaged food, it still originates in the dirt as it always has.

So to mark this time, I walked to my favorite spot by the lake (which is lower than ever, by the way--not good). I just needed quiet time to myself. With the idea of harvest in mind, I took symbols of my writing, my shamanic practice and my new ministerial services, and blessed them with the intent that they are fruitful over the next year. I brought along some blueberries and bread to eat; I also left a few bites for the critters. Then I read this seasonal meditation. I don't go in so much for the "god/goddess/lord/lady" language, but it does have beautiful imagery:

Now is the time of the First Harvest,
When the bounties of nature give of themselves
So that we may survive.

O god of the ripening fields, Lord of the Grain,
Grant me the understanding of sacrifice
As you prepare to deliver yourself
Under the sickle of the goddess
And journey to the lands of eternal summer.

O goddess of the dark moon,
Teach me the secrets of rebirth
As the sun loses its strength and the nights grow cold.

I partake of the First Harvest,
Mixing its energies with mine
That I may continue my quest
For the starry wisdom of perfection.

O Lady of the Moon and Lord of the Sun,
before whom the stars halt their courses,
I offer my thanks
For the continuing fertility of the Earth.
May the nodding grain loose its seeds
To be buried in the Mother's breast,
Ensuring rebirth in the warmth of next spring.