“For everything, there is a season, a time for every purpose under heaven.” Ecclesiastes

“Nature is the direct expression of the divine imagination.” John O’Donahue

As May bids her farewell, she warmly introduces the month of June, the time of the summer solstice, sunshine that births long days that allow us to languishing in pleasant memories and moments of dreaming and sipping lemonade.

The older we get the more aware we are of times and seasons, whether on the calendar or in our lives.  May has always been a bittersweet month and season for me.  It represents a time of both life and death.  It is the month my mother was born and died.  It is the time when my father, a WWII veteran, would mark his service and the sacrifice of so many by faithfully participating in Memorial Day observations.  It is the month when I left Lutheran ministry, marking in one sense the death of my old life, and embarked on a new life of fully living in and with The Divine.  And, most recently, it is the month when my newest granddaughter was born.  For these reasons, and more, I’m mindful of the importance of times and seasons.

It’s not unusual or unique to any of us.  Nor was it to the ancient Celts, who carefully marked, memorialized, and worshipped the seasons.  The familiar Celtic cross, with the round circle divided into four parts, is a visual reminder of sun and moon, and the division of the year into four parts.  These four parts are distinguished as follows.

The Celtic year began with Samhain, which occurs November 1. Samhain, made popular by Halloween and more recently the Netflix series “Bodkin”, marks the beginning of the winter season, the time of darkness. It is a reminder that life moves from darkness into light, and then back into darkness. 

The season of darkness is followed by Imbolc, the beginning of Spring, which is connected to the festival of St. Brigid on February 1^st.  I’ve written about St. Brigid before.  She is one of the most revered of the patron saints of Ireland, and is frequently connected with the pre-Christian Brede, the goddess of fertility and motherhood. Imbolc lies halfway between the Winter Solstice and the Spring Equinox. 

Beltainne is May 1, which came to be called “May Day” in the West. It is the second most important festival to the Delts, marking the beginning of the season of light, the transitions into what is called Samhraidh, or summer.  This season ends with the festival called Lunasa on August 1^st and serves as a transition into the harvest season of fall, called An Fomhar.

Times and Seasons.  Which ones hold greater meaning for you?  Which ones conduct you into a space where you are more mindful of both blessing and curse?  Which one allow you the luxury of marinating in the moments of past memories, and dreams that were, and may be again.

John O’Donahue sees the blessings of seasons, and captures them in the following poem.

Let us bless

The imagination of the Earth.

That knew early the patience

To harness the mind of time,

Waited for the seas to warm,

Ready to welcome the emergence

Of things dreaming of voyaging Among the stillness of land.

And how light knew to nurse

The growth until the face of the Earth Brightened beneath a vision of color.

When the ages of ice came

And sealed the Earth inside

An endless coma of cold,

The heart of the Earth held hope,

Storing fragments of memory,

Ready for the return of the sun.

Let us thank the Earth That offers ground for home

And holds our feet firm

To walk in space open

To infinite galaxies.

Let us salute the silence

And certainty of mountains:

Their sublime stillness,

Their dream-filled hearts.

The wonder of a garden

Trusting the first warmth of spring

Until its black infinity of cells Becomes charged with dream;

Then the silent, slow nurture

Of the seed’s self, coaxing it

To trust the act of death.

The humility of the Earth

That transfigures all That has fallen

Of outlived growth.

The kindness of the Earth,

Opening to receive Our worn forms,

Into the final stillness.

Let us ask forgiveness of the Earth For all our sins against her:

For our violence and poisonings

Of her beauty.

(From the book, “To Bless the Space Between Us”, by John O’Donahue)