Parting the Mists

Almost four weeks ago was the holy day of Lughnasadh as well as the fifth anniversary of this blog.

I should have been excited and whooping it up, but I’ve just not been feeling it. As I’ve mentioned in the past, I tend to feel more connected to the harvest than many other people do today. But the last couple years have simply not been as productive in that literal way. My volunteer time at the community garden has not been fruitful, due mostly to the changing weather patterns and simply not having enough volunteers to keep up. With these two issues stacking up, we just can’t keep the weeds out, plants watered and maintained, and so forth. The sad part is that we haven’t produced even 10 percent of what we’re used to giving to the local food bank – one year we donated 10,000 pounds of produce. In sharp contrast, this year and last we’ve only turned in a few buckets here and there.

The only things that have actually done well in the community garden have been the herbs, newly planted elderberry, and wildflowers, including the sunflowers that the birds help to resow in the garden every year.

My personal small garden hasn’t done well this year either – again only herbs are taking off. Tincture making and home crafting (except making jelly, of course) have all but come to a halt. Holy day observances, save for Samhain and Yule, have pretty much been been reduced to a mental acknowledgement on my part.

Even this blog has been neglected a bit though I should have been excited at the fifth anniversary.

As Lughnasadh approached and I started to let all this sink in, I was feeling a bit disappointed in myself for letting things slip. Then I ran across this blog post about how Lughnasadh/Lammas isn’t just about the harvest – it’s also about sacrifice. Well, duh, I thought to myself. In mythology, of course, we’re referring to the sacrifices like that of Tailtiu, the Celtic god Lugh’s step mother who died of exhaustion while trying to clear the land for agriculture.

Even though it wasn’t a direct correlation, something in this blog are me realize that my harvest wasn’t less than in the past, it just wasn’t the same kind of harvest. In the past couple years, I’ve dealt with a lot of personal loss – my mother and three dear dog family members are gone. If loss doesn’t turn you bitter or sad, it makes you realize that you have to take every opportunity to enjoy life: kiss the dog on the nose every morning, take time to have tea with friends, learn to be silly, and chat up the cute guy at the art club – which is exactly what I did.

The result of that is I’m now living with that cute artist and his beautiful daughter – the first time in more than a decade that I’ve lived with anyone else. These relationships are precious and need to be cultivated through time and attention. Sometimes when we want to move forward in a new direction, we have to sacrifice some old activities and habits to do this. Time in the garden has become time with them. The rewards of this is a harvest of its own kind: nourishment for the heart and soul instead of the body.

Given all this, next year instead of me trucking off to the community garden across town, we plan to add a couple raised beds to our backyard so we can still have a harvest that we can work on and enjoy together. It may not produce 10,000 pounds for the food bank, but we can still make some small donations and that’s OK. Letting yourself change and do something different is a part of sacrifice. It might seem a small one, but for some people letting go of what they expect of themselves is a big accomplishment. It’s letting go of who you were in order to be who you want to be now.

So next time you’re beating yourself up for not doing as much as you used to, think about what you might be doing now that you didn’t think of – or perhaps you are giving yourself some needed time for self-care. It’s all good. Really.

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