Midsummer, The Tipping Point

Life feels like a goat rodeo. Yep, buckaroo, you need a rope....

This is adapted from a blog that first appeared on Medium.

I find myself using the term "goat rodeo" a lot more frequently than I would like.

It feels like so many things that used to be bedrocks of our existence are becoming less reliable, or are being turned into a clown show because people are more interested in using them for puff and bluster rather than for their intended purpose. We see more and more people getting sucked into the well of disinformation promoted by Russian bots and Trumpian insurrectionists. We see institutions like the House Oversight Committee being turned into a "bread and circuses" style forum where Jim Jordan and his ilk make mountains out of molehills and fabricate narratives so they can secure a spot on a right wing talk show and fundraise. There's a heatwave in Texas right now where temperatures are in excess of 114 degrees, and because Texas STILL hasn't learned its lesson from the big freeze a few years back, the power is out in a lot of places, and ERCOT is asking consumers to dial back their electricity use to avoid brownouts.

But here's the thing about a goat rodeo. Ultimately, its up to the goat tyer to bring the goat to heel. The whole point of the rodeo is that while the little beasties are supposed to be hard to handle, ultimately, the point is to handle them, not let them skip free. At some point, the human must assert their will over the beast.

And  so here we are, celebrating Midsummer, which is also called Litha.  Midsummer is the noontime of the growing season. It is not only the  moment at which there is the most sunshine, the longest day, and  therefore the height of the sun’s influence over our world. It is also  that moment when we enjoy the most abundance with the least amount of  effort. The harvest time in the fall also yields abundance, but the  harvest of fruits and vegetables and other things we enjoy just before  the onset of winter are had only if we are willing to put in the work to  have them. There is an urgency because the growing time is coming to a  close, and everything must be not only harvested, but made ready so it  is available to sustain us during the dark time of the year.

At  Midsummer, however, there is no hurry. Luscious fruits and berries hang  on vines, bushes and boughs and may be plucked and eaten right from the  trees. Greens have sprouted up from the ground and may be had in salads  readily. We crave the freshness of foods that come straight from the  earth. The heat of the sun makes us crave the cool, wet juicy things.  Dehydration and heat stroke are real things, so drinking water is  incredibly important now if we are outdoors. It is time for sipping  lemonade in a hammock on a sunny day, with a bowl of cherries close at  hand. It’s a time for floating on an inner tube on a lazy river.

So  what does it mean to have Midsummer during turbulent times, when it  feels more like you’re on a class V rapid in an empty barrel ready to go  over a waterfall than like you’’re floating in the pool with a cocktail  in hand?

Perhaps  it’s because Midsummer is the tipping point. After today, the days will  get shorter. The harvest is now on the way, coming as inevitably as the  dusk follows the dawn. There will be no stopping it now. Everything  that you’ve planted will now either come to fruition or be shown to have  died on the vine. This is the last moment you have to enjoy the  potential of a thing without having to take responsibility for its  outcome. From now on, the ever looming question over every moment is  “how are you going to make it happen?” Midsummer is the moment at which  the urgency of manifestation commences.

You  don’t control everything about a growing season. If the rain doesn’t  fall, or a frost comes too early or too late, you can’t prevent that.  The yield of a harvest is not entirely upon the one growing it. But at  the same time, if a person wants to eat abundantly, they have to put in  the effort to make sure that things do grow and that they are ultimately  collected and put in the larder. And that effort may start small, but  eventually, it grows. By harvest time, it’s a mad rush to the finish  line. One can almost imagine that the conversation in the fable between  the ant and the grasshopper happens at Midsummer.

And  that ultimately that is what Midsummer is about — it is that last  moment of languor, of celebrating all that we have to be grateful for,  all the abundance we already enjoy, before we shift to making abundance  happen for ourselves. We can and need to do both. The point of what  comes after Midsummer isn’t to kickoff a season of toil and drudgery.  Nor is the time prior to Midsummer all laziness and relaxation while we  let nature do its work. We put in effort all through the growing season.  And we should recognize that what we have also in part comes from  things outside our control. There is room for both of these elements —  hard work and gratitude for providence. It is the balance between the  two, the emphasis that changes.

We  are at a tipping point in our society, and it is only fitting that we  should recognize this at Midsummer. The Universe is telling us as humans  that the time of merely settling for the potential of certain outcomes  is no longer enough. It is no longer enough to settle for the promise of  racial equity. It is time for us to get about the business of actually  making it happen. It is not enough to say that you love your LGBTQIA+ friends, you need to get out and support them as they fight for their lives and their right to exist. It is not enough to talk about the importance of democracy, we must actively defend it and expand it to as many people as we can, and do so not just by saying nice words, but by actively advocating for voting rights and rule of law. It is not enough to merely wish for a solution for climate change. Unless we get about the business of decarbonizing our businesses, our institutions, our households, we're going to see more catastrophe and more death. What we do in the coming  months will say volumes about who we are going to be as a people, and we  don’t have the luxury of sitting on the sidelines. We have work to do.

Blessed Midsummer, y’all.