the dharma blog

I don’t think I’m alone in feeling like the summer solstice should be declared a national holiday of some sort. It’s truly a glorious day at these latitudes… a beacon of hope when we are in the depths of winter, and cause for celebration when summer is upon us.

When you have lived through cold, dark winters when the nights are so long and the days are so short and it seems like the sun is so far away, the very idea of the sun illuminating an early dawn and light lingering long into the night is nothing short of spiritual.

I’ve found myself driving home late at night a few times in the past couple weeks. Even after warm days when temperatures reach above 90°, June evenings are almost always cool and damp. If it doesn’t rain a little bit as the nighttime approaches, at least a heavy dew falls, giving the night a particular fertile peacefulness. So these nights, I have driven with the window all the way open and my arm hanging out, touching the air.

It is also firefly season, which is truly some small magic. Late last Friday night, Fisherman and I stood looking out over a few acres of unused pasture behind his house, marveling at the air thick with the flickering lights. Fisherman remarked that pre-historic humans must have really wondered about that phenomena, when the night could be filled with light though our species still lacked any similar ability.

The news this morning said that more than 20,000 people were at Stonehenge to witness today’s sunrise. I was still fast asleep when the sun rose here, but I’ve always wanted to mark the solstice by seeing the sun rise and set, and to spend the day exploring what happens inbetween.

In years past, Rosie and I have marked the occasion by spending the long, golden evening paddling and fishing on a small lake north of Stillwater. Tonight, if the weather cooperates, we’re planning a hike with the dog and some friends. If we’re lucky, we’ll watch the sunset. It will surely be with a bit of melancholy, because the pessimist in all of us knows that this happy event also means we begin tomorrow the long descent toward those short days and long nights on the opposite side of the year.

But, I’m mostly an optimist, so today I’m just happy that everyone — us lay people and the astronomers and meteorologists — can agree that summer is really here. Much of it remains to be enjoyed, and the sun, a god any human can worship, is as close to us it ever gets. Take note of every detail, because it is in this rich season that life seems to reveal its simplest yet greatest purpose.