Culture

In The Dark Time
by

In The Dark Time

by Katie LaFond

Culture is the context; if it is holding you firmly and comfortably, it is mostly invisible. In my writing, I like to bring these unseen things forward, and try to make them a little easier to feel and to weave into your own context. Today, I’m going to talk about what I (and my family) do in the Dark. 

Pagans often talk about the Light half of the year, and the Dark half. Most understand this to mean the time between Beltane (May) and Samhain (November), and Samhain to Beltane. Most understand the Light Time to be a time to come together, to celebrate, to share, and to socialize, and the Dark Time to draw within, to rest, to dream, and to tend the inner fire. 

The Light half of the year brings us together at Gatherings, Sacred Land observances, Harvest Festivals, and frequent opportunities to come together. Pagans can mostly be as busy as they want to be during this time of the year, which my extroverted friends delight in, and even my introverted friends appreciate the overt model for “what to do.”

Descent

The first part of the Dark Time follows a fairly predictable pattern, and one we have plenty of models for. At Samhain, many families will clean graves, have a Dumb Supper, and Honor the Ancestors. At Yule, we sing up the Sun, burn a Yule Log, and gather with loved ones. 

Then, for a lot of people, it feels like a very long, cold time before Beltane. 

We have fewer models for “what to do” as New England pagans. We have Imbolc, which isn’t really the start of spring here, and even Spring Equinox often still feels like winter. We make Brigid crosses and often have our children hunt for eggs amid snowdrifts, but it is too cold to eat all that chocolate outside.

An image of an outdoor fire with a foreground closeup of a hand holding two metal knitting needles.

I return to the idea that we draw within, rest, dream, and tend the inner fire. When we lived in close knit communities that relied on each other for survival, we would spend the winter together, gathered around the hearth. We would tell stories, make music, make tools, weapons, art, and clothing. We would tap the trees during sugaring season and take turns tending the boiling sap, watching the billowing water vapor create dragons in the frosty air. We slept more, and dreamt more deeply, telling each other about our dreams, and letting the Unseen be a little closer to us. 

In January I Dream. I foster a deep dreaming culture with my family. We have an extravagant sleep hygiene routine including stories, songs, vaporizers, fuzzy blankets, dream journals, and hot water bottles. We set alarms well before “get out of bed” time and talk about our dreams each morning while we snuggle before our busy day starts. I add events to my calendar so I don’t accidentally accept too many invitations, and instead I sit still, reflect, and journal about the year behind me, and what my hopes are for the year ahead. I add other events to my calendar to remind me to do things just for enjoyment. Joy is a pagan value, and January is a wonderful time to indulge in long hot baths, stargazing with heated socks on, and a massage or two. It can be hard to motivate yourself to go outside during the long cold dark, but your body will thank you for it.

February brings creation forward, as things Gestate. It is not about the product; the act of creating is joyful in itself. I try to make something each day; cooking, carving, writing, knitting, colored pencil drawings… anything that gets my creative juices flowing. I spend hours choosing seeds for my garden and planning this year’s layout. February is also Sugaring season, and I like to think about how the Sap is running in the Maples, and I like to think of something each day that brings sweetness to my life. Something small and beautiful; the sap isn’t boiled into syrup yet… 

Ascent

March sees things Emerge. I begin to sprout the seeds I’ve been collecting in the Dark, both literal and figurative. My onion seeds are first, quickly joined by kale and parsley. I look over my journals from Twilight Covening and Yule, and finally put my annual Tarot Card up by my desk. I make new jewelry to remind myself of the ways I want to grow and I stretch into these new pieces and test drive nascent shapes that limber as I grow into them. 

The word April literally means Open. I work to Open Wide. I walk outside every day, noticing how each day there is something new blooming, chirping, or emerging. I appreciate these last days with my wings still wrapped around myself and my family before I open wide my arms to embrace my community again at Rites of Spring. 

What do you do in the Dark? 

In the Spirit of the Earth,
Katie LaFond February 2024

Cultural Gravity
by

Cultural Gravity

Katie LaFond

In The EarthSpirit Community, we are “…dedicated to the preservation and development of Earth-centered spirituality, culture and community…” and I have done my best for myself, my family, and the community to embrace and nurture those things. Today I’d like to talk about pagan culture, and the pull of the cultures that surround my family. 

In Western Massachusetts, the wider culture is one I am mostly comfortable in. We enjoy cow pie bingo, many agricultural fairs, a festival in which children roll pumpkins down a hill every year, and other fun, satisfying traditions. Traditions and customs knit people together, and provide the sense of belonging that we need to be happy people. People know what the expectations are about what they will do, and what they can expect in return, because of culture. 

I’m doing my best to raise children who know who they are, and celebrate the customs and traditions of our pagan culture. This is made difficult when the majority of the kids they see day to day aren’t part of those customs and traditions. It can be confusing for them when my kids watch their friends celebrate customs and traditions that my family does not. It is so much easier to be excited about Yule when your friends are also excited about Yule (and not telling you that “you mean Christmas”).

Some of the adults my children see are not part of the pagan community. Many of them are loving and accepting, but don’t understand that when they expect my kids to be excited about their Christian holidays, they reinforce a cultural gravity I’m actively trying to help my kids avoid. A couple of years ago, a grown-up who knows we’re pagan asked my then-four year old if he was looking forward to Easter. He looked confused, put his hand on his hip and said, “I do Equinox, NOT Easter.” I wish my children didn’t have to navigate these difficult cultural waters, and I wish people who know we’re pagan would not put them in that position. It is an opportunity to teach tolerance, of course, but now we’re expecting children to do the emotional work, and not the adults around them.

My husband and I have tried hard to make the pagan culture in our home vibrant and rich, with the gravity to cradle our children in its rhythms. It is much easier to handle the pull of other traditions when you feel secure in your own culture. Words matter. Day-to-day routines, choices, diet, and activities matter. Holidays, rituals, and traditions matter. I have filled my home with pagan books, music, and art, and that matters. The friends they talk with matter.

Adults, too, feel the familiar gravity of the holidays and customs of their families of origin, their workplace, and their circles of friends. But I often wonder if I would be as dedicated to nurturing a rich pagan culture in my home if I didn’t have children. 

I’m not advocating for stripping celebration out of shared spaces; there is nothing wrong with sharing and celebrating lots of holidays and traditions. But it is much easier to handle the pull of other traditions when you feel secure in your own culture, and you don’t feel pressured to pretend you’re part of a culture that you’re not part of. It is important for everyone to notice and respect both the areas of overlap and the areas of difference between the traditions and customs of majority and minority cultures. 

Because the thing is, with gravity, all things are pulling on all other things. People pull on the Earth even as the Earth is pulling us toward it. Cultures have gravity. My hope is that instead of tearing us apart, these different cultural gravities will draw us into a dance. Best wishes from my home to yours for a swirling, twirling season.