Welcome, summer! I'd have greeted you with the dawn, but instead I hauled several bags of laundry to The Missing Sock, stuffed half our entire wardrobe into two machines, and sat, my eyes following the clothes as they spun in a soapy bath. That is a sight as hypnotic as the streamers of a bonfire, but much more domestic, more like gas flames in a hearth. I long for a true bonfire, flames licking the sky in gold, blue and red. Something wild, on the edge of control, a worthy celebration for the day of the longest light.
In the town of Jackson, the summer solstice is celebrated by a street corner festival that consists of live music, theater and performance. You can, of course, visit one of the nearby vendors and indulge your need for food and drink. While the general ambiance strikes me as tame, the taiko drummers make my heart beat faster, my body move with the rhythm and I feel as if I could run painted through the hills, with a howl for the sun, the moon, the long day exploding from my lungs.
The children in the front of the crowd dance before the troupe of Japanese style ensemble drummers. I do not see any adults who dance, and the tween girl next to me dismisses her father's suggestion to go and dance by the stage. Already, she refuses to stand out as different, a giant 10 year old, she says, next to a bunch of little kids. I sympathize, since my own movements were subtle, almost covert.
How to be free in the expression of one's soul, when you live in a town that has whitewashed over what is fundamentally a wild nature? I rode my cruiser home from the Town Square (if that title doesn't explain the nature of Jackson Hole, I don't know what does) and sang and danced in the yard to a Hare Krishna tune by Krishna Das. I felt my spirit lift, and for the first time in my tidy up, grocery shop, cook and organize day, the meaning of the Solstice flows through me.
Summer means plants in growth, play outside with the late sunset, drink greyhounds and wear as little clothes as is possible. This far north and at 6,300 feet in elevation, that includes jackets and scarves at night, but I still wear sandals then. The theme of bare skin reminds me that a soul feels wonderful when allowed to be itself. On the longest day of the year, there's plenty of time to bare my soul. Strip away fear, dismantle my inhibitions and shame, let the grass tickle my soles, and dance because I am moved to do so.
Posted with Blogsy
Summer soltice in the moving industry, just means we are through memorial day, and only the 4th of july, and labor day to go.almost there.
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