Mabon Part I - Nothing Else Matters

The night air shifts before the signs of Autumn are noticeable during the day. While the days can still be hot and full of force like any other time in the summer, the evenings grow cooler and longer. The night knows what is coming...and pays heed to the turning of the seasons.

The Mabon Autumn equinox festival is one of the two times I have during the year to escape to the woods and frolic among friends, fire, and faerie. It is always a mixed gathering of old friends, past lovers, and friends yet to be. I was very much looking forward to this much needed reprieve, and I was excited to bring a brand new bottle of Talisker Storm with me to share. Only, when I went to the store, he was not there.

The woman behind the counter told me they weren't expecting him to return; she called around for me to the other places, but to no avail...  He had gone off, without a word, and with no indication of when I could see him again. All this so soon after I finally admitted my true feelings, proclaiming him to be my perfect Scotch. I was a bit taken aback, and surely disappointed, but life has trained me to take things like this in stride. The journey continues, indeed...

So instead of my beloved, I took with me two of the lads that had been hanging around for a bit - the Irishman and Wasmund's. Not Scotches, but single malts from Ireland and Virginia. Another friend was also bringing a group of boys he wanted me to meet, so I knew there was fun in store. Even without Talisker Storm.

On the first evening, an impromptu gathering assembled around my picnic table. Friends and whisky lovers with cups and mugs of all sizes, and with them the gentlemen of various styles from many parts of the world. We laughed and chatted as the sun set over the lake, bringing a close to the equinox day. In conversation, someone mentioned the band Iron Horse. Classic rock and metal songs done in the style of bluegrass.  And why not? Who says certain combinations shouldn't be? I'm beginning to think that attitude simply denotes a lack of creativity...

So I checked out this version of one of my favorite Metallica songs. It was different, for sure, but it suited me. When you're riding the chaos, it seems the unexpected becomes the norm in life.

These thresholds are for crossing. 

If your dearest beloved has left or disappointed you, then find another and pour a dram. Listen to the song and sip slowly, tasting the unfamiliar flavors with an open mind for a different view. Listen to the familiar song in a new way, and forever trust in who you are... for Nothing Else Matters.

Among the offerings to try from friends were Crown Royal Caramel and a new dark and mysterious Highland Park who I had never heard of - Einar. He is from the warrior series that this distillery has released, to honor the viking history of their island. I was excited to meet him.

I only had a short time with him, with all that was going on, but I found him very interesting. He was sweet and pleasant overall, at times with a note of powdered sugar! But he had an edge as well once he opened up - spicy and powerful. He was no Talisker, for sure, but that one was no where to be found. I'd say Einar is one of the best Highland Parks I've had, and I would love to spend more time with him soon.


As the dark night stretched a farewell caress over her dearest day, the waxing moon rose in the sky. The music was starting down at the pavilion, and the fire was calling us to play...

This festival marked a new chapter for us. The campground these folks used to gather at, some for over fifteen years, had closed; the group and this new campground were strangers to each other, and so in many ways this was like a first date.  We could not have near as big fires as in the old place, but there was a great big beautiful lake, which was never a part of our festivals before. Some good, some sad. Such is the way of life, growth, and change.

The most important piece though, of course, is the community. The history of stories and shared experiences weave a thread through all of the festivals, in all of the places, and gathers with it pieces of each of our lives in the mix. The faces are the same, and some of the tents and rituals, so it wasn't that everything was unfamiliar. The two sides melded, like night and day do at sunset, into a beautiful expression of paradox - both, yet neither.

The duet that played that first night was lovely, singing songs of just the right style and energy. There was a vibe of giddiness as we hesitantly explored our new festival home. Happy, joyful, but just a bit cautious.

Surprisingly, we all seemed to find ourselves comfortably settling in. The night became alive with music and passion, singing and dancing. Things were not the same, but they weren't entirely different either. The new always has seeds of the old, and the old lends and informs the new, and the new learns and renews the old. These are the cycles, like those of nature that we gather to honor.

I think of wooden whisky barrels as they flavor the spirit, and then in turn are seasoned themselves; the flavors meld with each batch, so there bits of every cycle that came before. The wood flavors the whisky, the whisky flavors the wood, and again and again, as the seasons turn.

And this was only the first night...

Mabon - Part II: Craigellachie 13

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

Mabon - Part 1: Standoff

I went to a Mabon festival this weekend.  A pagan holiday that marks the Autumn Equinox, Mabon is a harvest festival. It is the time to acknowledge the transition into longer periods of dark vs light. From this point until the Winter Solstice, the days will grow shorter and the nights will grow longer. Despite the turn to longer darkness, it is a celebration of the fruits of our labors.

The Boys From That Band were the entertainment for the evening. They are a fun group of musicians that play alternative Celtic rock. They have a more steampunk themed song about a magical airship. "We never know where we'll go until we're finally there..." Take a listen to Professor James and feel the joy of freedom from expectation:

At the festival I tried a new Scotch, but I also had a chance to put Caol Ila to the test in my first side-by-side tasting. A friend of mine knew of my recent interest in Caol and offered to bring what remained of his bottle to the festival so I could meet him again - this time next to Talisker Storm.

 
We were camping, so we were using 8oz ball jars at a picnic table for the tasting. The small cooking fire crackled nearby, paying homage to one of one of my favorite flavors in a Scotch.

In color, there was an immediate difference. Caol Ila was much paler that Talisker. I noticed a harsher and more floral nose in the Caol than I did when I first met him. I didn't sense the usual strong smoke from Talisker, but I think it was partly the glass. After adding the water, Caol's nose seemed more fruity, and the taste was good, but there were flashes of flavors that I did not like. For a brief moment something reminded me of the smell of hospital plastic. Thankfully, that faded quickly.



Talisker...was as wonderful as I remembered him. Smoky, sweet, spicy, and alive.

Caol really didn't seem to be much competition after all...but how could I have thought them so close the other day, when it was just him that I was tasting?

There is something that happens when you become familiar with a flavor, or a circumstance, or probably even a person. I call it the pleasure of familiarity. It is said familiarity can breed contempt, but there is also comfort in it (at least for a time). It's the stuff of home court advantage, and the flip side to expectation.

When something is new and we are still learning about it, expectations can be "premeditated disappointments." But after we already know a thing, a different kind of expectation settles in. When we know something, we expect it to continue being as we know it, and that is the pleasure of familiarity. 

It's the satisfaction of an expectation - 

the expectation that a thing we enjoy remains as we know it to be.

The more familiar we are we something,

the stronger this effect can be. I think this is a big reason why, when placed side-by-side, Caol seemed much different than I remembered. While I'm sure he is a fine and fun fellow, I think at our first meeting I was only picking up on the aspects of him that reminded me of the one I am most familiar with - that being Talisker.  But when the original creator of the familiarity of those flavors was available for immediate comparison, the subtle differences became vast and undeniable. 

This begs the question though - do we enjoy something in and for itself, or do we enjoy it because it is familiar and therefore satisfying of expectation? And if the latter, how far can something stray from true enjoyment before we realize it through the rose-colored glasses of familiarity? Or am I putting an unfair twist on the pleasure of familiarity; does it matter why we feel enjoyment from something or only that we do?

I think the answer, as with most things, lies somewhere in the middle. As the length of the days and nights wax and wane through the year, so does the effect of the familiar on our enjoyment of something. I believe the effect is powerful and honest, but it can delay the awareness of a fading pleasure. Something like how even after the Winter Solstice, when the days begin to grow longer again, the weather will still get colder at first. It takes time for the shift to bring the days and nights into balance again and allow for the warmth to return.

The Solstice is still months away, though, so we have only just begun our journey into colder days. For now, we celebrate the seasons, the harvest, and all the joys of life, no matter how fleeting they may be.