The issue is that I often work offline in a Word document, then cut-and-paste into Blogger and delete the document. But since I'm in the habit of deleting after I finish, if for some reason I don't finish, I often don't delete. Two weeks ago I accidentally typed the beginning of the Mabon post into an abandoned draft of the Lammas post. Later, when I went back to finish, I found what looked like a finished post already, and I was in a hurry, so I went ahead and posted it without reading it through.
I skipped posting entirely last week because I kept hoping to come up with some way to avoid posting this apology, but I never did think of anything. So here I am.
Sorry.
Here is the missing Mabon post.
-D.
Happy
Mabon!
I
don’t feel very celebratory at the moment, but of course that’s
no reason not to wish everyone a happy holiday. And maybe it’s
appropriate that Mabon feel like a mixed bag, since it is the
equinox. No, nothing bad has happened, I’m just feeling glum.
It
is Fall, now, though I have to admit it doesn’t yet look like it.
The forest is still green, the air is still warm—even hot, some
days, though not nearly as hot as a month or two ago. But under the
green is a yellow cast, a hint of change, and the birds are heading
south—some are staging to migrate, others have already left. As
with spring, which is present from the first hint of growth, Fall is
present from the first hint of preparation for the cold. I didn’t
used to understand this. I see things more deeply now, I suppose.
Every year (except one) that I've been here, the question at Mabon has always been whether to do the Gratitude Circle or the Thankyou Doll build, these being two of the many optional activities of the day that happen to occur at the same time, at least most years. The reason, I've always guessed, is that Kit co-leads the Gratitude Circle and Charlie co-leads the Thankyou Doll build, and Charlie and Kit have a mutual allergy. Something has to be scheduled in conflict, since there are too many events to have them all sequentially, and since Charlie wouldn't attend Kit's event anyway, and Kit wouldn't attend Charlie's scheduling them opposite each other is at least less frustrating for them than if either had to give up attending something they really wanted.
And frankly, I think Kit probably likes the idea of forcing students to pick between her and Charlie.
This year, I chose the Thankyou Doll build. Partly I wanted to hand out with Charlie, and partly it's that I really don't know a lot of the novices anymore, and it seemed like it might be weird to stand in the Gratitude Circle with a bunch of near strangers. Of course, you could argue that's exactly why I should have gone....Maybe it's something Allen said to me a while back, I'm amphibious--I'm mid-way, emotionally and mentally, between being a student and being a master, and while I no longer feel comfortable treating the novices like peers, I don't really know how else to treat them, yet. I feel like a fraud when I act too much like a master, and I don't know what the intermediate thing really is. So I don't talk to a lot of them at all, outside of class. I don't want to stand in the Gratitude Circle with them.
The Thankyou Doll--it's been a while since I explained this. The Doll is made out of produce from our campus farm, and sometimes a few wild plants make an appearance, too. Once assembled, the Doll is taken to the center of the farm and woken up in a simple ceremony; everyone stands around saying wake up! wake up! and such, and then the youngest person present leans down to listen and hear the Doll whisper that it is awake. When it does, the young person says so. I've always wondered what, if anything, these young people hear, but I've never asked any of them.
Then the Doll is taken on a tour of the farm, and all the places where its parts grew are pointed out to it. The Doll later attends the Paleolithic Dinner that night, and everyone in attendance gives the Doll a small something from their own plate. The Doll, and its plate of offerings, sits in state in the Great Hall for some weeks until Charlie and whoever else wants to return it to the center of the farm and bury it with proper ceremony.
It's a fun activity, and a good choice for children, so most of the sprouts usually attend.
This year was no different. We had my nephews and niece and all the sprouts younger than them, including Sean--he's still too young to wander around by himself, but Steve Bees wanted to hang out with Charlie, too.
Sarah brought a huge box full of ingredients and a box of toothpicks and spread everything out on an old sheet on the ground. We built the Doll out of potatoes and turnips and carrots and other items and sat it on a silver tray, all of us working together, sharing ideas, and solving design problems--like what to do when the Doll kept falling over, or how to make facial features that wouldn't fall off or look creepy.
And when we woke the Doll, Sean did the honors. He listened for a long time, and then when his dad asked him "Can you hear the Doll say it's awake?" he nodded. He's at the age where he can talk, but not in front of strangers.
After the tour, when everyone was dispersing, Charlie took me aside and casually asked me what sort of event I might like to run on Mabon.
Of course, Charlie never actually says anything casual. He always has a reason for speaking, because if he doesn't have a good reason, he'd rather listen to birds or wind, or possibly someone reciting poetry. I knew what he was up to--either spurring me to take another step towards thinking like a master, or checking to see whether I had taken the step on my own already. Most of the masters, and some allies, either lead or co-lead something on this day, after all. But not all of them do.
"None," I replied, without hesitation. I'd thought about it already.
"Oh?"
"Yeah. Because Mabon isn't missing anything. I could take over an existing event if someone had to, and I'd put my own stamp on it whether I meant to or not, but I don't need to start anything new because nothing new needs to be started. It's complete."
And Charlie grunted and appreciative acknowledgment. He didn't need to say anything else. Neither did I. I learned that by watching him.
Every year (except one) that I've been here, the question at Mabon has always been whether to do the Gratitude Circle or the Thankyou Doll build, these being two of the many optional activities of the day that happen to occur at the same time, at least most years. The reason, I've always guessed, is that Kit co-leads the Gratitude Circle and Charlie co-leads the Thankyou Doll build, and Charlie and Kit have a mutual allergy. Something has to be scheduled in conflict, since there are too many events to have them all sequentially, and since Charlie wouldn't attend Kit's event anyway, and Kit wouldn't attend Charlie's scheduling them opposite each other is at least less frustrating for them than if either had to give up attending something they really wanted.
And frankly, I think Kit probably likes the idea of forcing students to pick between her and Charlie.
This year, I chose the Thankyou Doll build. Partly I wanted to hand out with Charlie, and partly it's that I really don't know a lot of the novices anymore, and it seemed like it might be weird to stand in the Gratitude Circle with a bunch of near strangers. Of course, you could argue that's exactly why I should have gone....Maybe it's something Allen said to me a while back, I'm amphibious--I'm mid-way, emotionally and mentally, between being a student and being a master, and while I no longer feel comfortable treating the novices like peers, I don't really know how else to treat them, yet. I feel like a fraud when I act too much like a master, and I don't know what the intermediate thing really is. So I don't talk to a lot of them at all, outside of class. I don't want to stand in the Gratitude Circle with them.
The Thankyou Doll--it's been a while since I explained this. The Doll is made out of produce from our campus farm, and sometimes a few wild plants make an appearance, too. Once assembled, the Doll is taken to the center of the farm and woken up in a simple ceremony; everyone stands around saying wake up! wake up! and such, and then the youngest person present leans down to listen and hear the Doll whisper that it is awake. When it does, the young person says so. I've always wondered what, if anything, these young people hear, but I've never asked any of them.
Then the Doll is taken on a tour of the farm, and all the places where its parts grew are pointed out to it. The Doll later attends the Paleolithic Dinner that night, and everyone in attendance gives the Doll a small something from their own plate. The Doll, and its plate of offerings, sits in state in the Great Hall for some weeks until Charlie and whoever else wants to return it to the center of the farm and bury it with proper ceremony.
It's a fun activity, and a good choice for children, so most of the sprouts usually attend.
This year was no different. We had my nephews and niece and all the sprouts younger than them, including Sean--he's still too young to wander around by himself, but Steve Bees wanted to hang out with Charlie, too.
Sarah brought a huge box full of ingredients and a box of toothpicks and spread everything out on an old sheet on the ground. We built the Doll out of potatoes and turnips and carrots and other items and sat it on a silver tray, all of us working together, sharing ideas, and solving design problems--like what to do when the Doll kept falling over, or how to make facial features that wouldn't fall off or look creepy.
And when we woke the Doll, Sean did the honors. He listened for a long time, and then when his dad asked him "Can you hear the Doll say it's awake?" he nodded. He's at the age where he can talk, but not in front of strangers.
After the tour, when everyone was dispersing, Charlie took me aside and casually asked me what sort of event I might like to run on Mabon.
Of course, Charlie never actually says anything casual. He always has a reason for speaking, because if he doesn't have a good reason, he'd rather listen to birds or wind, or possibly someone reciting poetry. I knew what he was up to--either spurring me to take another step towards thinking like a master, or checking to see whether I had taken the step on my own already. Most of the masters, and some allies, either lead or co-lead something on this day, after all. But not all of them do.
"None," I replied, without hesitation. I'd thought about it already.
"Oh?"
"Yeah. Because Mabon isn't missing anything. I could take over an existing event if someone had to, and I'd put my own stamp on it whether I meant to or not, but I don't need to start anything new because nothing new needs to be started. It's complete."
And Charlie grunted and appreciative acknowledgment. He didn't need to say anything else. Neither did I. I learned that by watching him.
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