The thing about traditions in a family like mine is that we kind of have to make them ourselves. Mi amor is less motivated by the idea of traditions than I am, so it’s mostly up to me what we do. Back when I was more actively and observantly Jewish, the holidays were ready-made. We’ve done the odd Pesach, Sukkot and Chanukah celebrations since then, and we’ve even made hamentaschen for Purim, but on the whole that has largely been a way to maintain connection with family and offer our daughter some early festive memories.
When I stepped back from the Jewish community about a decade ago, I found solace in Druidry. I’d had a few somewhat traumatic experiences relating to religious community, and the idea of something solitary held a certain appeal. On a deep level, I needed the human-free spirituality that nature could offer. It is a lot to do this work alone though, and in time I came to wish for a community to ease the burden. Over the years, I had some brief contact with various groups, not unlike two ships passing in the night. Nothing significant took root. Since becoming a mother (and my subsequent side-quest of going back to school) my practice has fallen by the wayside. I even feel a slight resistance to re-engaging, though I think that might be a touch of The Depression.
This solstice, I find myself reflecting on the ways that things endure, even in death. We decorated our table with items collected from four elements, and added to it treasures we’ve found over the years such as fossils, sea glass, a large whole clamshell, and even shards of a discarded robin’s egg. This detritus of nature speaks to the lasting impact of even that which seems to be gone. Unplanned but completely appropriate to the season, we told our daughter stories of beloved family animals, some of whom she has met and others who left us before we were blessed with her. Today, we set out an offering of our good fortune for the wild animals that frequent our backyard; apples, seeds, nuts, and so forth. (As always, do your own research regarding the source and safety of any food offered to animals, as well as the pros and cons of doing it in the first place.)
The winter solstice is embedded in a time of hibernation. For me, it is a time of quietude. That said, in recent years I have been blessed with the opportunity to celebrate with both my own family of origin and various friends of mine. As someone who has often felt on the outside spiritually, especially at this time of year, I take great pleasure in the joy of celebrating my holidays with others.