The solstice full moon eclipse and Montol have been and gone and as we head into the full-on feasting, celebration and general mayhem of the twelve days of Christmas I feel a meditational pause is needed.
Above: Solstice dawn eclipse by Paul Atlas-SaundersMidwinter - a time of frantic shopping and consumer-led stress, when many are forced to add to their debt burden for reasons that are lost on many. This year we have the added burden of snow and ice leading to panic buying and hysteria. Maybe we should stop for a brief pause in the stillness of the snowy landscapes and remind ourselves that it is actually wintertime. Take a look at many of the Christmas cards that drop on the doormat and you will see many snowy scenes depicted.
We have got used to mild Decembers, but really, why should we be so caught out by a bit of seasonal weather. The news is full of stories of how the country is gridlocked, without enough salt to grit the roads. Airports have closed and tens of thousand of folk are stranded, sleeping on the floors of departure lounges.
As we watched the Solstice full moon eclipse, we were able to reflect on the past year and all that has happened in our lives and those global events such as the continued melt-down of the global economy and the carnage in Afghanistan. We were also able to look to the future. Light emerged from the shadow of the eclipsed moon, as she faded into the dawn sky. The reborn sun rose on the shortest day of the year, casting long shadows across the deeply frosted Cornish landscape. A new beginning.
Above: Montol sunrise at Tredethy
Midwinter Solstice and Christmas traditions merge so wonderfully at this time, and this is always so eccentrically summed up by the Montol festival in Penzance, where the guizing and mummers traditions continue into the 21st century with so much seasonal and extroverted style. The festival allowed us to celebrate the longest night, in the company of many other creative folk. We Guize-danced our way across Penzance town under a starry full moon sky, to some wonderful old Cornish folk-tunes played by the fantastic Turkey Rhubarb band.
Above: Guizing in Penzance
As the ceremony climaxed at the burning of the mock, far to the north seismic ripples were being sent out from the sacred centre of the British Isles. An earthquake, centred at Coniston, just a few miles down the coast from St Bees Head, considered by some to be the sacred centre of Britain, measuring 3.5 on the Richter scale, shook Cumbria and the Lakes for just over a minute at 11pm.
The ancient land shuddered, as energy spiralled outwards from the cosmic hub of our island home. Though not a particularly rare event, the timing is interesting.
The energy of a new aeon. As the ages collide and change, so does the land in a mystic spiral of interconnectedness.
Happy Christmas one and all, or as they say in Cornwall's mother tongue Nadelik lowen onen hag oll!
We have got used to mild Decembers, but really, why should we be so caught out by a bit of seasonal weather. The news is full of stories of how the country is gridlocked, without enough salt to grit the roads. Airports have closed and tens of thousand of folk are stranded, sleeping on the floors of departure lounges.
As we watched the Solstice full moon eclipse, we were able to reflect on the past year and all that has happened in our lives and those global events such as the continued melt-down of the global economy and the carnage in Afghanistan. We were also able to look to the future. Light emerged from the shadow of the eclipsed moon, as she faded into the dawn sky. The reborn sun rose on the shortest day of the year, casting long shadows across the deeply frosted Cornish landscape. A new beginning.
Above: Montol sunrise at Tredethy
Above: Guizing in PenzanceThe ancient land shuddered, as energy spiralled outwards from the cosmic hub of our island home. Though not a particularly rare event, the timing is interesting.
The energy of a new aeon. As the ages collide and change, so does the land in a mystic spiral of interconnectedness.
Happy Christmas one and all, or as they say in Cornwall's mother tongue Nadelik lowen onen hag oll!
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