traditions – Clan Witch & Word Refinery

—Guy Fawkes/Bonfire Night.

It’s been little to do with politics for a long time.

When it once celebrated the failed gunpowder plot — where Catholic Englishman Guido Fawkes was found guarding the explosives intended to assassinate King James VI (and I) and members of the House of Lords on 5th November 1605.

This is the socially acceptable night to light fires and set off explosions into the sky! As effigies of Guy Fawkes are set upon bonfires and burned in commemoration.

As a child of the 20th Century, I simply didn’t get it. Kids knocking on doors collecting for ‘The Guy’. While it’s cited that the commemoration is for the failure of the Gunpowder Plot. I’m not sure that that’s entirely true everywhere, given the general feelings towards the English parliament (extending far beyond the 17th century) and King James VI (and I) — who was in many ways a tyrant.

This acknowledgement in either regard is simply an excuse for a night of careless mayhem. Where folks can legally purchase and let off explosives without direct repercussions. Well, I say that, but the emergency services are always under heavy strain during these pointless and reckless (even when ‘organised’ festivities).

In a world of hypocrisy and contradiction, it’s a time I can’t abide. I do not involve my children in the ‘fun’. Not when innocent wildlife are burned alive, as they seek refuge or places to hibernate safely for winter within the pyres. Not when we have heart attacks and panic in nests from the booms, the lights, the smoke — the terror! Not when domestic animals straying or lost fall victim to maniacs who think it’s funny to stick rockets inside of them are tie explosives to their tails. Not when those at home are cowering from what feels like a war raging just outside their homes.

A nation of animal lovers?

Are we ahead of the game in caring for the environment?

Minimising our environmental impact and emissions?

I fucking well think not!

Here in the village, the longest day of light is obscured by dense, low-hanging clouds. Heat permeates air molecules, caressing the skin and teasing water just out of reach.

The rain may come, or she may not. Either way, flames will lick skyward.

Flames will dance with padding feet, and shadows and ash will remark spiritual and physical boundaries on Litha.

Steeped in traditions around the globe, the essence of the Sabbat (when the sun is further from the equator) and her rituals are ultimately the same. We dance in tandem. Burning off what is no longer needed, shedding skins, and embracing what is filled with nourishing light and growth opportunities. This is a Sabbat of rebirth, regeneration through fire and light.

Evidence of Solstice traditions goes back to at least the Neolithic era.

Some consider Summer Solstice as Midsummer, and others consider it only the beginning. Like Winter Solstice, I’ve always taken the literal translation of these sabbats being the midpoint of the season regardless of climate, which in Scotland can be unpredictable.

Some traditions of this festival of sun worship can be found in numerous sources. This one is a nice quick read over on National Trust.