Solstice as Portal.
What the Litha and the light reveal.
Today’s summer solstice marks the longest day of the year, when the sun’s rays linger long into the evening. Even after sundown, whispers of summer heat hang in the air, enveloping you in a warm embrace. Dusk becomes infinitely more magical and charged as the world rushes into stillness and silence, when all you hear are the rustling of leaves and crickets singing from the shadows. When the summer solstice arrives, everything is brought into full light.
Truthfully, I have always dreaded summertime. Perhaps it’s because of the shedding it entails: clothing, values, past versions of self. It was the bardo-esque season of our youth before we entered a brand new school year, feeling like entirely new people after two months in the sunshine. There’s nowhere to hide in the sun. Not in Southern California, which feels particularly poignant as we bear witness to one of the greatest political reckonings we’ve had to face in our lifetime. Cruelty and hatred are on full display with those who perpetuate it no longer afraid condemnation, instead receiving laurels and praise. This is a moment of undeniable clarity. The veil is thinner, the truth is louder, and the ugliness that’s taken root in our country is exposed.
This solstice is at once a beginning and an ending. It’s the longest day of the year, with the sun shining at its peak. But it also indicates that from today onward, the light will slowly wane until we find ourselves carried gently into the milder temperatures of fall. It’s imperceptible at first, like a waning gibbous moon after reaching its fullest phase.
In my most recent episode of Both/And (which I’m sending out early next week) I discuss this particular moment in history as a “pause before rupture,” a collective Two of Swords moment imploring us to make a decision. Do we continue perpetuating a system that is dying, or do we compost what remains and rebuild? On an individual level, this solstice also marks an opportunity to shine the sun’s brilliant light upon ourselves, looking inward to see where our own beliefs, loyalties, or fears are stoking the flames of old patterns and automatic behaviors. It is an invitation into personal and ancestral inquiry. What are you carrying that isn’t yours? What will end with you this season?
Transformation goes hand-in-hand with fire and heat, and we are reaching prime fire season just as Los Angeles is recovering from the devastation of the January fires. Fires that engulfed entire neighborhoods and displaced hundreds of families. Now, our community is once again put to the test as our friends and neighbors are ripped from their homes and families, and sent away without due process. People all across Los Angeles showed up in solidarity to protest peacefully. We made our voices heard and it was beautiful. Los Angeles, or El Pueblo de Nuestra Señora la Reina de los Ángeles del Río Porciúncula, was built by the very people being targeted. They come for one of us, they come for all.
This political upheaval requires us to ask ourselves: what must burn? How can we harness this sacred fire energy and catalyze change, individually and globally? What is essential, and what must go? As we celebrate today’s solstice, tune into the turning of the wheel. Hear the creak of the passage of time. Remember that nothing lasts forever. Not the sun’s warmth or the sweetness of stone fruits, and certainly not the bitterness of hatred and authoritarianism. We may be called upon again to act and resist very soon, but that doesn’t mean we cannot enjoy our time outside of our activism. How we spend our days is, of course, how we spend our lives.1 Bask in it.
In case you missed it:
I sent out the inaugural episode of my audio series, Both/And, last week. I’m loving sharing in this new format and grateful for the kind words of support it’s received thus far.
Wrote about Sisyphus and existentialism and tarot the week prior.
Shared some meandering thoughts on La Chimera, phenomenology in film, and the Hanged Man.
Quote by Annie Dillard.