Solstice

I began driver’s ed on Solstice. It is the longest day of the year and I felt like I was in the longest CLASS of the year. It went on FOREVER, but I didn’t really mind. I gotta tell you, I love these kids. Now that we’re in the middle of publishing a novel about teens, for the most part, and going into is sequel, I must say I was worried that I had lost the feel for teenagers. We divide off from each other quickly and it’s the fault of adults, especially in my generation, not to take teenagers seriously. As soon as people hit eighteen they will themselves into a pretended adulthood and loose all understanding of the kids we are so close to in age.
I didn’t tell anyone how old I was. I wanted to see if we could connect, if I could fit into this wonderful world I hadn’t been part of for so long. I love these kids. So much of what they say reminds me of how innocent and childish they still are. They think having a car And a job at the grocery store will make them independent. They’re on restriction, they’re not allowed to date or secretly dating. And yet all of these kids are philosophers, full of dreams, ambitions and definite ideas. They are more fully drawn than the eighteen years olds they may become, more alive than the college students and young adults who put away that whole part of themselves. They have a lot to teach me, and maybe I have a little too teach them. It is school after all.

And maybe we might even learn to drive while we’re at it.


The longest day of the year, the Solstice. A friend asked me what I was doing for Solstice, and said going to driver’s ed. The modern world cramps everything into one or two days. Modern Christians, even the Catholics, cram a period of feasting into one day. These days Americans don’t remember how to celebrate. A celebration is a time to put away all the things that are supposedly pressing and give yourself up to the joy of the days-—and it's never just one day. Somewhere in the midst of this joy, this singing, this relaxation, these games, the suspension of normal life we wake to touching something deeper. But it seems that in this part of the world we’ve forgotten that so much that no one even remembers Solstice by it’s new and official title: the first day of summer. Ignoring the time we move on with our often all too small lives, not remembering how to celebrate or how to live.
So now I enter into a joyous time, Solstice, then Midsummer Eve and Midsummer Day, also called Saint John. And the days in between until Old Midsummer Eve—July 4th! And old Midsummer Day. Each day is a time to celebrate and in the celebrations touch upon life and memory and feel the energy of Saint John and beyond that the breath of the Wild One, who had many names, but is always green, and always springing up from the depths and carrying us into something new and fiery if we let him. When we forget the ancient ways and spirits we forget a part of ourselves, we unlearn that which is an instinctual gift. We can walk in mystery. Or we can stumble around aimless. The ancient holy days give us a chance to decide which we will choose