Winter

My winter solstice vigil

My eyes jerk open, glimpse the candle flame in front of me, then drift closed. I force them open again, but my eyelids just do not want to stay up and it takes conscious intent to keep them there. I let them close. I’m still awake, still conscious of my task on this longest night of the year. All I have to do is stay awake until dawn. I’m awake - with my eyes closed.

My eyes jerk open, glimpse the candle flame before me, then drift closed again. I have no idea how long I had them closed. It could have been seconds, it might have been minutes, I doubt it was hours. I rearrange myself in my seat, sitting up straight. My mind focuses and grows clearer. It’s easier to keep my eyes open now that I’ve moved. Remember that, I think, all I have to do is rearrange myself to stay awake.

This will be the seventh Solstice I’ve sat vigil at, the second on this porch, and the fifth - hopefully - that I will have made it all the way through the night. The first time I tried to do it in the dark - and gave up two hours in. The second I allowed myself a single candle that I carried from my home to the nearby park. When at 3am or so the candle blew out, I gave up shortly thereafter.

The third time, I brought my backpack, many candles, a clock, a book, my magic cards, pillows, blankets, hot tea and a hot water bottle - and made it through the eight hours outside from midnight until dawn.

The fourth, I brought everything, but used less. Tea, candles, lighter, blankets - looking at the clock only once to give me hope at 4am.

The fifth, I sat on this porch at home. That was the night I danced with Eithne for the first time - when we really became aware of each other. We danced and made music until nearly 2:00. I started my vigil late, definitely falling asleep at a couple points during the night, but I was aware come dawn.

The sixth was in town. I made lanterns with Mama and walked in the ghostly glow of people with electric candles in a lantern parade. Eithne performed with fire - and I stubbornly refused to give her a kiss because she’d had a cup of something alcoholic. I sat in my spot at the park, and when the new day came it was the most exultant dawn, with shafts of sunlight and seagulls rejoicing in the light. When I returned home Eithne was hurt by how ridiculous I am about alcohol and consent, and I crawled through that fight - just wanting to sleep.

Now - tonight. Usually the first couple hours are the best - clear time. Good thinking time. Time where I reflect on everything the year has brought - but this year it is not to be. I struggle with my eyelids, leaning close and focusing on the blue at the bottom edges of the candle flame, trying to consciously direct my thoughts.

My father died. Thoughts, memories, the miracle. I smile and then it all slips away.

Projects. I think. Everything cool I’m going to do with this land. The houses I want to build, the community I’m going to create. I begin to picture it clearly behind closed eyes, and it is only with great difficulty I jerk them open.
Relationship? I could use some anger, some energy, but the thought just rests there - neither good nor bad - simply present. A spark, a moment of frustration and then it drifts away.
My Book. Ahh - I realize suddenly that I’ve drawn the map wrong. For the valley to be “East of the Sun and West of the Moon” the moon must be to the east. I decide to flip my map upside down. I close my eyes imagining how that looks, map vivid in my mind. I jerk my eyes open.
My game - hmm, I know where my players are to end up next. Maybe I should plan something . . .

The wind gusts and my candle blows out. The difference in light momentarily wakes me up, and I sit there in darkness, eyes quickly adjusting. I can’t see the moon from here, but it has to be up. The silvery silhouettes of trees against the sky, the white edge to racing clouds, all these give away what is hidden behind the trees.

I get up and place a chair sideways as a wind-break, and then, now that I’m up, go move my legs on the grass. There’s a boffer-polearm I just made leaning against the porch, and I grab it. I move through forms under the moonlight, exulting in the rush of it, the wakefulness of it. I love pole-weapons. I used to consider myself a staff fighter before I ever called myself a swordsman. My body moves, knowing just what to do.

I can see the moon now, off to the west. It occurs to me that when the moon is full, and it rises on the eastern horizon just as the sun sets in the west - we ARE “East of the Sun, and West of the Moon.” In the fairytale it’s a far off island in the sea - but really it’s just night time.

With that I go back and light my candle and sit again, warmed, awake. The wind is really gusting now. I check the time and see that it's four in the morning. I smile. Halfway to dawn.

I get up several more times periodically, to move with my weapon and stretch my legs. At last, drawn by impulse I take my pole-weapon and start into the woods, along the path I have traveled so often in the dark, to where my tent was set up through the summer. The wind gusts through the trees with a vengeance,and when I find a fallen tree across the path it occurs to me that I probably shouldn’t be in the woods right now - but it’s too late.

I make my way to the construction site for the house I want to build. I’d given up on it after a neighbor claimed that it was across the property line, but recently another neighbor showed me the real line - just where I had thought it was. I gaze by moonlight at the site, so full of growth through the summer, now dead and dreaming of what will rise here in the years to come.

I take out my phone and shine the flashlight on the scene to see if any nettles yet live. They’re all shriveled. I catch the time on the upper right corner of the screen. 2:40. I squint at it. But it was 4:00 before . . . I can only imagine that I imagined - a wishful fantasy, or image born of a dream.

In a bad humor I walk down the lane. I thought it would be 5:00 at least. This is a serious setback. How could it have gone so slowly? I feel close to despair. I go slip onto my neighbor’s property. He’s looking to sell it. Gazing around the clearing at all the trucks he’s parked there, I get an uneasy shiver that convulses through my body. I make my way back up my driveway back to the porch, and relight my candle which has blown out in my absence.

I settle down and pull my blankets up over me, but soon grow restless. I check my phone, just to make sure - this time of night is prone to hallucination. It’s 2:56. I don’t know if I have the mental strength for this. I consider just giving up. Going inside. There’s my bed. There’s warmth. No one will blame me except for myself. I don’t know if I have the strength for this. I stay outside anyway.

On an impulse, I switch my phone from airplane mode - where I’d set it for my vigil - just in case that affects the time. The numbers flicker from 2:58 to 5:40.

It is such a relief that I begin to giggle, and giggle uncontrollably until 5:46. Whenever I stop it comes up from my belly again, and when I finally stop for good, gasping for breath, I’m grinning.

Hello Pan, I say to myself, This is me. I put on so many masks - I pretend so many things - but this is what I am like without my masks: giggling at the vagaries of technology - sweet, open, soft and laughing - always laughing.

I get up dance like a duck, bobbing up and down my steps. I sing a silly song I make up on the spot, and bring out my phone to record it, crooning “Zzzhis izzz zhe zzzzzzly zong, zhere zeveryzing ztarts zith a Zeee,” over and over again. I talk in silly voices, and have absurd arguments. By this time dream has seeped into reality, and I see double - the images in my head play out through my open eyes, as if projected on the surrounding darkness.

I go and sit vigil in order to face myself. In the visage of darkness I find my own light. In the early morning darkness, when my body has given up on sleep and instead gives me waking dreams, there is no hiding from anything that I am. Yet, in this early morning darkness, with only myself for company, I realize that I like myself. I face myself - and find worth.

Gradually the black recedes into grey, and by 7:40 it’s light enough to see across the land. I call it good enough and go inside to sleep away the day. ________________________________________________________________ (here's a link to . . . the fly song, if anybody wants to hear)