Trying to Schedule the Equinox

Mary and I have just a few days left this year when we can get together by telephone and perform our 1980s-style rituals. I was trying to find the exact times of the remaining equinox, cross-quarter day, and solstice.

Instead of telling me, “Here is the time of the equinox in Greenwich,” and allowing me to perform subtraction like an adult, Google told me it would occur at UTC−0500 in Texas-- and also at UTC−0500 in Connecticut, which I’m pretty sure is impossible.

So: what the hell is UTC?

It is, for ordinary human purposes, the modern successor to Greenwich Mean Time. GMT was based on mean solar time at Greenwich. UTC is based on atomic clocks because, inconveniently, the Earth does not rotate with perfect regularity.

And why “UTC” instead of something intelligible like “Coordinated Universal Time,” abbreviated CUT? Apparently the international timekeepers compromised between English and French abbreviations.

Fine. Whatever.

But this made me wonder why anyone needed to know the time somewhere else before cell phones or even telegraph lines.

I assumed Greenwich must have been important because it was a port. Close, but not quite. Greenwich was home to the Royal Observatory, founded in part to improve navigation. Sailors needed astronomy and accurate clocks to determine longitude at sea.

British navigators carried marine chronometers set to Greenwich time. Suppose the chronometer said it was noon in Greenwich, while the position of the sun told you it was 2 p.m. locally. That two-hour difference told you how far east or west of Greenwich you had traveled.

So Greenwich time had a very practical purpose: it helped sailors figure out where the hell they were.

By the nineteenth century, railroads and telegraphs made standardized time useful on land too. And in 1884, an international conference adopted Greenwich as the prime meridian.

Perfectly comprehensible:
Here is the time in Greenwich, England.
If you live somewhere else, add or subtract some hours.

Then modernity gave us UTC−0500.

And because that isn't complicated enough, most of the United States changes its clocks twice a year. Hawaii doesn't. Most of Arizona does not. The Navajo Nation in Arizona does. The Hopi Reservation inside the Navajo Nation doesn't.

So UTC−0500 can describe Texas in summer and Connecticut in winter, while in the southwest you can change clocks (if you're in the know) every time you cross a border. I once arrived an hour late for Torah study in New Mexico because I didn't re-set my watch on the road.

Britannia, please rule the clocks again!

The Tree at the Crossroads, A New Year Rite of Vision and Release with Hekate

Hekate dances before a tree too immense to fully see.

I place three candles on the earth and light them.

I light these flames at the roots of the world tree.
Flame of the crossroads. Flame of the soul. Flame of the future.
Hekate Enodia, Hekate Phosphoros, Hekate Trimorphis.
Help me understand these messages.

I place The Hermit card (reversed) before the white candle and invoke Hekate:

Enodia, show me where I resist stillness.
Help me hear the wisdom that lives beneath the silence.

I place the Two of Cups (reversed) before the red candle and invoke Hekate:

Aglaos and Vrimo, illuminate the wounds I must heal.
Why is love withheld? How may I open to connection again?

I place the Knight of Pentacles before the black candle and invoke Hekate:

Psychi Kosmou and Hthonia, show me the gate that opens.
How shall I plant and nourish the seeds of growth?

I place a pomegranate, a key, and an offering cup near the candles.

I place the Four of Swords before the pomegranate and invoke Hekate:

Fruit of the Underworld, sealed and sweet,
I will not force the path.
Let the hidden potential ripen in silence.
Let me lay down the sword and welcome sacred rest.

I place The Magician card before the key and invoke Hekate:

Hekate Klidouchos, Keeper of Keys,
May I find what I need.
Teach me to use what I already carry.
Let will and wisdom meet.

I place the King of Pentacles before the offering cup and invoke Hekate:

I return the gifts that once helped me.
Help me release control.
Let my spirit grow where fear once ruled.

I inscribe a circle on the ground.

I place the Ten of Pentacles within the circle and invoke Hekate:

Show me what will take root.
What vision is ready to come into form?

I place the Death card within the circle and invoke Hekate:

Hekate of Many Faces,
Show me who I must become.
Guide me through the shedding.
Let the old self die with grace.

I await a vision...

I kindle fire in the cauldron and pour water into the basin.

I pass the Two of Wands (reversed) through the flames of the cauldron and invoke Hekate:

Cauldron of transformation,
Receive what I must release.
Hekate, help me name what is false and what I fear,
and give me strength to cast them into the flame.

I pour water from the basin over the Five of Pentacles (reversed) and invoke Hekate:

Water of life, water of mercy.
Hekate, show me what must be cleansed.
Let this basin carry away sorrow, shame, and isolation.
Let resilience and grace take their place.

I pour water on my hands and splash my face. Then I offer thanks to Hekate:

The flame returns to the root.
The path returns to silence.
The goddess remains.
May what was seen unfold in time.
Hail and farewell, Hekate,
Light-bringer, Key-holder, Guide through shadow.

Postscript

When I performed this rite, the visualization came quickly and vividly. I saw Hekate dancing before the World Tree which, in the darkness, was vast beyond sight. I recited Hekate's mantra and felt the damp earth and warm air around me. The candles flickered over each card. The pomegranate, key, and cup were real. I inscribed the circle with white chalk and felt Hekate communing with me.

When I laid down the Death card, I asked what part of me must die so I can live more fully. But then I noticed: The Ten of Pentacles had come first. Perhaps transformation isn't a prerequisite for change; perhaps change will begin to take root before I fully understand who I must become.

The Five of Pentacles, washed in water, offered hope. I saw the possibility of returning to a place of light, of finding a new home, within myself or elsewhere.

I gazed at The Two of Cups, its candle still burning brightly even though it had became shorter, and I asked Hekate to help me find love and connection and to heal whatever has kept me distant from others.

Something shifted. I felt a quiet turning and heard the beginning of something. Now I wait in stillness to understand the rest.

Prayer, Ritual, and Water for the Birds

Years ago, I interviewed a number of women and asked them about their prayer lives. Each one told me her life's story. 

I wondered why they didn't address my question. Were their prayers too personal to share? Were their experiences indescribable? 

I considered the project a failure, but recently I realized that I'd been presuming to know what prayer is.

Maybe by telling me about their lives, they were telling me about their prayers. Maybe prayer isn't something you do while holding a siddur or while pressing your palms together. Perhaps prayer is more than the words you say to the unknowable. Maybe prayer is how you live and aspire and grow. 

Ritual doesn't need to fit into a mold either. My friend, Mary, and I had only a couple of minutes to plan our Equinox ritual today. There was just a little bit of form to frame our spontaneous celebration-- and our ritual was wonderful.

And also, for me, there's a daily, summer ritual. I'd forgotten about it until last week. I saw the first quail of the year, so I put tin, pie pans in depressions around my yard and filled them with water. Since the rims are at ground level, baby quail will be able to drink from them. 

As in other years, I fill them as soon as I wake up each morning. It's a simple ritual, and not "spiritual," but starting the habit again put me into a different consciousness.

Soon, the hummingbirds will return and I'll put out feeders for them, and for the bees and butterflies.

from pinterest.com