May featured two interesting events on strangely divergent ends of the spiritual spectrum.

Buddha statue
Dancers
Riverside ritual

The first was Vesak, which is the biggest holiday in the Buddhist calendar. Traditionally, the May full moon marks the date of the Buddha’s birth, the date of his enlightenment, and the date of the passing of his physical body.

For whatever reason, the American Buddhist groups I’ve associated with have never bothered to observe this occasion. However, the active Sri Lankan expatriate group here in Pittsburgh has organized an annual observance in accordance with their customs, and invited other local groups to contribute in their own ways.

So on the 15th of May I made my way down to the community park by the Pittsburgh Children’s Museum to join about a hundred others in my first observance of Vesak. Ironically, the downtown streets had been blocked off, so I had to hop off the bus and walk an extra half mile to get there. The reason: a big procession of Christians carrying idols and chanting the Lord’s Prayer. Very strange synchronicity.

One thing I have to say about Buddhists: their celebrations really suck. The observances included chanting, recitations from the dhamma, and a dhamma talk: all very stolid, head-y stuff. The most demonstrative display was by some beautifully elegant traditional dancers, who did an excellent job, though they too were pretty sedate.

When the talking was over, there was a procession down to the banks of the Allegheny for a peace ceremony that featured releasing rose petals and water into the river, to disperse throughout the world.

For me, the observance and opportunity for reflection were nice, but almost comically staid. Still, it was heartwarming to be able to participate in such an important community event, having had been offered no such observances by my American Buddhist communities.


A week later, at Inna’s prompting, I found myself driving into the remotest parts of the Berkshire hills of Western Massachusetts to attend a huge week-long pagan festival: the Rites of Spring.

I approached Rites with a twofold purpose. On one hand, nature—wood, wind, rock, and sun, and especially the solar holidays—are an important part of my spirituality. But I’ve always preferred to honor those in silence and solitude; so Rites was something of a test to see whether there is any room in my veneration of nature for community. And failing that, my fallback plan was to simply go my own way and treat it as my own five-day woodland meditation retreat.

In the end, I wound up balancing involvement with the community with solitary reflection and a good helping of meditation. I observed a few of the big community rituals, but felt more turned off by the people than spiritually moved. Inna and I did bring our drums to one of the fire circles, and that was fun. I summed up my feelings at one point: “Nature is majestic and mysterious and magical enough without all the dumb human inventions like magical energies and mythical beings and healing crystals and blah blah crap.”

My community experience was saved by a dear old friend who had coordinated the Sandwich Retreats back at the Cambridge Insight Meditation Center. Whispering Deer is an amazingly wise and lovable woman who shares the Buddhist teachings with a different audience at Rites, albeit translating it into their vernacular. Her series of workshops meditating on the four Brahmaviharas and mindfulness of the body gave me something familiar, trusted, and interesting to work with. It was really cool seeing Whispering Deer teaching the dhamma on her own, and I was delighted that Inna chose to join me in attending.

Quiet pond

Of course, I also found time for about seven hours of solitary meditation practice, usually on a granite rock or dock on the shore of the pond. I spent those hours enjoying the opportunity to observe and integrate with the sun, woods, and lake around me, and contemplating why the veneration of nature is something I find so difficult to share with others.

But another important aspect of the trip was the opportunity to connect more deeply with my partner. The trip took Inna and I out of our daily routine, and we had a couple long, quiet conversations that brought us closer together. And that was way more valuable to me than all the silly neo-pagan hoopla.

Do holidays make any sense to you? They really don’t to me. One day we’re looking for rodents, the next we’re Irish, then we’re looking for egg-laying rabbits. One day we wear disguises and teach our children extortion, the next we celebrate the land’s bounty, then we give it all away to our friends, followed quickly by staying up all night and getting drunk. All this really makes sense to you?

It doesn’t to me. If you ask me, the only holidays worth sincere observation are the ten solar events of the year.

Ten? There are only two solstices and two equinoxes, no? Well, yes, but there’s more, too. Let’s have a little astronomy review, shall we? Let’s begin with what everyone already knows.

There are two equinoxes: spring (vernal) and fall (autumnal). Those are the times when the Sun passes directly over the equator, passing from the northern hemisphere to the southern, or vice versa. It’s also when day and night are roughly equal in length. They fall, respectively, around March 20 and September 23. These were important dates to the Celts, whom I’ll refer to a couple times here, and the church absorbed these observances under the names of Eostar/Ostara and Mabon, respectively.

And there are the two solstices: summer and winter. These are the longest and shortest days of the year, and the days when the Sun is as far north/south as it will get before heading back towards the equator again. However, they are not mathematically halfway between the equinoxes, usually falling on June 21 and December 22. The pagan holidays of Litha and Yule were again confiscated by the Christian/Borg authorities.

Few people realize it now, but there are also four cross-quarter days, each of which was roughly halfway between a solstice and an equinox. Who cares? Well, those nutty Celts did, because they actually observed the change of seasons with these cross-quarter days, which match up with reality much better than the solstices and equinoxes. To them, the latter were mid-season events, not the borders between seasons.

Modern-day wicco-pagans are familiar with all this, since they too celebrate these solar holidays, but they don’t quite get it right. Somehow the traditional dates for their observances that don’t synch with the astronomical reality.

For example, Imbolc (aka Solmonath, Candlemas) is the Celtic beginning of spring. It happens February 4th, which coincides (not accidentally) with Groundhog Day. But Wiccans traditionally observe it on February 1 for some reason.

Similarly, Beltane (Whitsuntide, Walpurgisnacht) is the beginning of summer. It happens on May 5, but wiccans, who seem to have a penchant for round numbers, celebrate it on the last day of April.

Lughnasadh (Lammas) heralds autumn on August 7, but wiccans think August first is close enough.

Finally, there’s Samhain (Hallowmas), the wicked wiccan new year, observed on Halloween, October 31. Never mind that the cross-quarter day is actually November 7th. Ah, those nutty wiccans, playing fast and loose with their own holy days!

That, of course, only accounts for eight of the ten solar events I mentioned. There are two more. What could they be?

Well, all the holidays I’ve mentioned so far are tied to the seasons, which means they’re an attribute of the Earth’s 23-degree axial tilt. The other two days are different; they’re a function of the elliptical nature of the Earth’s orbit around the Sun. Because it’s elliptical, there must be a point at which the Earth is closer to the Sun than any other time during the year, and a similar furthest point from the Sun. These are called Perihelion and Aphelion, respectively.

The interesting thing is that those of us in the northern hemisphere have this all backwards. The day of the Earth’s closest approach to the Sun (Perihelion) actually occurs in the middle of winter: January 4th, usually. Similarly, the Earth is at its most distant point from the Sun (Aphelion) during summer: the Fourth of July (although this is one case where the modern holiday wasn’t lifted from the solar calendar). If we were in the southern hemisphere, this arrangement might seem more intuitive to people.

That gives us ten solar holidays, which make a great deal more sense to me than our contrived celebrations, for they observe the changes in our days and our seasons, which affect every living thing on our planet. At my last job we were given “floating holidays”, which I used on these solar holidays to celebrate the seasons. I found that much more satisfactory than taking a completely arbitrary day off to celebrate “the strength and esprit de corps of the trade and labor organizations” in 19th century New York City.

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