In the last post I talked of the pleasure of familiarity. A continuation from that idea are the concepts of tradition, ceremony, and ritual. Our psyche craves these things, and in our modern world they become harder and harder to find. For our ancestors, however, these things were tightly woven into their existence.
Understanding
the cycles of nature was essential to life. Their lives were very literally
dependent on knowing when to plant and harvest, and when to store and conserve
for the coming winter. The holidays that were celebrated in those days were
intricately connected to the seasons, the sun, and the moon. Back in the day of
oral tradition, stories of gods and myths were often the entertainment at
gatherings and festivals. In a time when survival was much less certain than it
is today, the familiar ceremonies and rituals such as those of Mabon brought a
comfort to the people and a strength to their community.
One of the
songs The Boys From That Band sang that night was written by Damh the Bard and
pays homage to the old ways - Taliesin's Song:
Although our
lives do not seem as connected or dependent on nature these days, there is still
a yearning to feel that rhythm - of the seasons, the cycles, and the mystery.
For me, this
journey to find the perfect Scotch is a type of a ritual, or perhaps a
pilgrimage of sorts. I was delighted to combine my modern day ceremony with a
tradition rooted in a much older time. Before nightfall, and the start of the
festivities, I was able taste a new Scotch - Craigellachie 13.
He's a Speyside
whisky, and of an unusual age apparently, as 13 is often considered unlucky.
Another unusual thing about this guy is the use of "worm tubs" in the
distillation. These long snake-like tubes help impart a deeper flavor into the
whisky than one would expect for the age.
This is an older process of
distilling whisky, and most have moved on from it. It seemed fitting to be
tasting a Scotch made in the way of an older tradition while honoring the equinox
in an older way as well.
At first, before the water, I thought his nose light and fruity. I did
sense a small bit of smoke, and on tasting I noticed an acidic bite.
To be fair, I couldn't really focus on really getting to know Craig. I was so excited and distracted by the atmosphere and energy of the event that I didn't really give him my full attention. Also, the ball jars aren't the best tasting glasses I realize, so I may have to plan another day with him. He was very interesting though, despite my flighty mood. There was a flavor to him I couldn't really identify, but it was different than I have
noticed in others. He was complex, but still maintained a light quality. It really was great to meet him.
When the elements of ritual, ceremony and tradition are at play it opens up a space for a certain kind of magic to happen. Perhaps it is a synergy where the things that are familiar help us find a sense of communion and grounding, while the pieces that are unique catch our attention and bring us joyful delight. It is in these moments, the best memories are made.
I experienced one of those
moments at this festival: The weather was
perfect with the awesome fire blazing at the center of a sand circle. A dozen or
so drums were pulsing rhythms into the air, and the community of kind, accepting people were all around. My senses were heightened; the air had a slight chill, but the heat of the fire
kept my muscles and my soul relaxed. At one
point I had raised my hand up while dancing and felt a single rain drop in the center of my palm...it was beautiful.
I was outside dancing, with drums, fire and
friends. So much perfect...and then one of the band folks left the drum circle to play a short
tune on the bagpipes - and my perfect overflowed into exquisite magic. It was all of the elements, all of the things that I
loved and were nourishing to my deepest self, all present in a glorious mix of comfortingly familiar, and excitingly distinct.
It is moments like these that become the stuff of myths, legends and future fireside stories forever. Blessed Be
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