A version of this blog first appeared in my Medium blog.
We have been living in the midst of the bright, chugging energy of summer. Hot days. Long nights. We are all of us in a rhythm that has been building since those first halting moments of spring when life began bursting forth from the seeds. At Midsummer, we saw that lightness technically reach its highest point. And yet the energy rolled on, blew past the peak, rolling and bubbling on.
And then, right around Lammas, is when it hits us — we aren’t where we thought we were, and this is all going to change really, really soon.
All those bright fruits on the trees, the leafy greens and colorful veggies coming up from the ground will need to be gathered in earnest. All that brightness and warmth is going to give way to wind and cold and snow.
And even as we are bubbling along in the warmth and sunshine, we are halted in our tracks. We must consider: What do we actually have? What have we accomplished? How did we we get here? We will have to harvest soon. What exactly have we been growing? What did we plant and what has it yielded? What plants have shown up and “volunteered” in the garden without us planting? Do I have what I need to complete the harvest? Are some of the things I planted withering under the sun because I haven’t watered them? Do I have enough water?
What have I done?
What is left to do?
How will I do it?
Do I have enough time to do it?
And here’s the worst part about it: you’re just waking up to the fact that you have all these questions, but that does not mean that you have any answers. You realize that there is more time behind you in this growing season than there is in front of you, and there’s a heady mix of surprise, anticipation and fear that can be difficult to unpack.
Welcome to Lammas, the mid-life crisis of the Wheel of the Year.
There is that curious moment, usually in one’s 40’s and 50’s, where humans suddenly realize that they might have more life behind them than in front of them. They start looking at their lives.
They may have a beautiful house.
And a beautiful wife.
And they may find themselves behind the wheel of a large automobile.
And they may start to question what they’ve been doing, how they’ve been living.
And they may ask themselves, well, how did I get here?
Sound familiar?
“Once in a Lifetime” by the Talking Heads is considered by NPR to be one of the 100 most important musical works of the 20th Century. The Rock and Roll Hall of Fame lists it as one of the 500 songs that shaped rock and roll. And it is a Lammas song.
Though critics in the 80’s thought of the song as a critique of mass consumerism, David Byrne would insist that it is much more a song about the unconscious, about the fact that often we cruise through our lives, unaware of how the choices of our world are unfolding, until we wake up one day and look around and exclaim “My God, what have I done?!” Cowriter Brian Eno and the rest of the band developed the unique musical style of the song by recording long jam sessions, isolating parts of them, and then playing them repetitively, essentially sampling their own recordings. Eno would later claim that the song was a failed attempt to play funk. What emerged from that failure was something entirely unique, with turbulent synth lines, complex rhythms, and a grounded but tense bass riff. There is a sense of unfolding realization that is not quite dread, but not excitement either. And yet, somehow, with all of this latent nervousness, you still want to dance. You still want to move and respond to the energy being raised by the music.
Because that’s really the key to making it through a mid-life crisis — movement. You got here because you let yourself slip into the flow of life, and it carried you someplace you don’t recognize. You realize you know way less than is comfortable about where you are and where you’re going, but you can’t let the panic set in. You can’t just freeze up. Nor can you stop the flow of time. You need to step into that flow, knowing it’s deep and terribly strong (after all, it did already carry you off once), and find a way to move through it in a way that is purposeful and powerful.
That is the energy of Lammas — the moment where you realize it’s time to get to work on the future if it is to be real. Instead of the energy of the growing season carrying you along, you apply your own energy to start the harvest flowing. And while you can no longer just allow yourself to be carried along, you cannot ignore the flow, either. You must find a way to use the flow to your advantage. That’s the ride that “Once in a Lifetime” takes you on.
Blessed Lammas, y’all.
Yess.! Its Mid Winter here in NZ, but that Witchy crisis stirs as I stack wood and light the fire each day. Is this enough wood? Am I enough.etc etc. Thank you Alythia for your great writing- I really enjoy your thinking.
Wonderful essay, thank you!