He will speak these words of Wisdom
like a sage, a man of vision,
though he knows he’s really nothing
but a brief elaboration of a tube
– Leonard Cohen: ‘Going Home’
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The turning of the seasons: For as long as anyone remembers, human beings (and quite possibly also other kinds of beings) have gathered around a living fire to celebrate the workings of the wheel and thereby honor the rushing essence of it all.
There are, as we so eagerly teach our children to know, four cardinal points of this wheel of the Year.
These are the Equinoxes of Spring and Fall, where light and darkness are equal, and the Solstices of Summer and Winter, where day and night are respectively the longest and shortest of the year.
It is quite easy to understand why our ancestors found it meaningful, and even necessary, to continually ritualize and dramatize this interplay of light and darkness, and it is, after all, not so hard to see why these cardinal points of the year still attract our attention.
Sure enough, we do live quite different lives from those of our un-electrical ancestors, for whom the shortening of the days and cooling of the world really was a factor to be reckoned with in their daily survival, which is not the case for most of us moderns – but still, I dare to believe and say, there is more to connect us than divide us.
We too have something to seek, and find, in the Wisdom of the Wheel. And what might that be?
Well, in essence: The turning of the Wheel is simply about the acceptance of it all – the realization that all the basic phenomena of existence are not to be grasped by the force of mind, but to be received by the senses of the heart.
You see, the Wheel just does not bend to our small desires. None of us can cut it short and skip a corner. All quadrants must be travelled for a circle to be drawn, and completion to arise out of itself.
And so, we find, just like they all did back then, ourselves as children of the World and pupils of the Wheel – in urgent need of gentle education.
So let us listen – and let us look: Behind us, around us, above us, beneath us, maybe inside of us, is darkness and cold.
Infront of us, right in the middle of our circle, we see – and feel – a sparkling fire, freely flaring upwards, happily supplying us with the heat that is so necessary for us to be here.
This truly is the message; that really is the center of it all – a living fire, constantly both sustaining, and consuming all there is as contrasting aspects of a remarkably unified process that goes by the name of Life.
From the domain of music, we have a beautiful word to guide us in the understanding of this interplay between creation and destruction:
Harmony – in Nature, everything is, when all comes to all, harmonic. The turning of the seasons involves no disasters. The Wheel knows nothing of catastrophes – no fear of darkness and destruction.
Here change is always gradual, and always inevitable. One state of existence smoothly transitions into another – as one piece of life becomes the nourishment of another, and everything goes round and round.
This is stability. This is the factual union between change and permanence. The fact that nothing remains the same is the premise of everything there is. Change is stability. Nature revolves – and so do we.
This is not a complicated riddle for us to ponder and penetrate. It’s not an inapproachable intellectual secret for the few, but simply a basic fact of life – and death.
The Wheel is all there is. This dance truly is eternal. Only the masks are changing. Nothing can ever violate the essence. The Universe is joyfully resting in vibration. Beauty is everywhere.
So, what is the problem? Why do we fear the dark?
The answer to that question is so straightforward that it hurts – and must hurt – for us to state it: We are afraid to die.
We are afraid to die – and thus we are afraid to live and to accept life as it is. Something in us, or maybe rather something outside of what is really us, is utterly terrified by the perspective of its’ own eradication.
This fear of the real is what complicates matters for us. This is what breaks the harmony in us and makes us perceive and invent pit black catastrophes and sky bright promises, where there could, and should, have been the simple equilibrium of change and stability.
So, what shall we do? An old, and well-tried, piece of advice would be to, simply, watch the fire – and praise the Sun.
You know: The Sun is new every day – all through the year. It does not die in Winter. It does not weaken in the dark. It simply burns, as everything turns – around it.
And there we have it: To willfully center our attention on this cosmic fire and peacefully align our tune with the constancy of its’ vibrations; that really is all there is to do – the one and only task, always at hand.
What does this mean? It means to let go of our egomaniac assumption that our small concerns should be the center of it all. Cause frankly, they are not.
This is the truth: Just as the Earth is not the center of the physical Universe; our anxious minds are not the core of our spiritual being.
To find what lies beneath the crust of illusions, we simply have to die and keep on living – that is, to face the fire and lovingly surrender ourselves to the moment as piles of dust and lust, equally happy to give and to receive.
The Wisdom of all ages consistently points the finger at it. This is as simple as it gets: The complexity of existence lies not in the World around us, but in us – and it is this complexity that must be destroyed, for something new to grow and flow.
The Gospel of this New Age is that the fires of the real are not just waiting, but unwaveringly coming, to enlighten and enflame us. So let us be attentive.
Before writing this, I asked my daughter what I should tell you today. She said to me I should tell you that the Sun is holy. I believe I have done just that.
And thus, I wish you all a very happy the Solstice – as above, so below!
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