Litha Meditation

Litha: like all the Solar Festivals, Litha was a time of great importance in ancient times to a people who needed to live in harmony with the rhythms of nature.

Nowadays we can feed ourselves, we can protect ourselves from the elements, almost without reference to the time of year or what the weather is doing. Yet at a time when we are coming to realise that, during two or three centuries of industrialisation, of not living in harmony with nature, we have been doing irreparable harm to the planet that we call home, it is our responsibility to return to the old idea of living with and using the seasons as our friends, and not battling them as our enemies. This does not mean that we should all leave our comfortable homes and go and live in tents. It just means that we should use the technologies that are most appropriate, and work in harmony with the riches that the planet is trying to give us instead of imposing our will upon it in an unsustainable way.

Midsummer in astrological terms is the time of changeover from the Watery energies of Spring to the Fiery energies of Summer. The energies of nourishment and abundance give way to those of energetic progress, but also those that demand the most from the natural systems that will shortly reach their peak of development. At the same time, the Sun reaches the peak of its own energy. From now until December, the days begin to grow shorter again. It is as though the Sun, having brought forth abundant life from the Earth during the course of the Spring, now begins to withdraw its domination so that we, as humans, can enjoy its blessings in the form of the harvest that is to come.

What is more, Midsummer marks one of the brief periods of rest during the course of the year for those who work the land. After a Spring spent keeping the growing crops free of weeds and ensuring that the abundant water and sunshine supplied by nature gets to the right places, it is time to sit back for a brief spell and wait for the harvest. And, as at other times of rest during the year, the ancient peoples would hold a time of celebration, of thanks to their sun god for what had been given to them, and of prayers for the success of what was to come.

Even though there are today some very legitimate fears that man's activities on the planet may be permanently harming its climate, and even though in some years we may experience a worse winter or a hotter summer than the norm, yet on the whole through the passing years there has been the steady, constant thread of the recurrence of the seasons in their due order.

To help us to maintain a sense of this continuity with our past, and so put us on a sound footing for the future, it is appropriate that we should mark the Festival of Midsummer by joining in, through our meditation, with a ceremony that our ancestors might have performed in their physical bodies.

Prepare yourself for meditation in the usual way. Sit comfortably and relaxed. Close your eyes. Take a few deep breaths to cleanse your body and mind of everyday cares and concerns.

On the Eve of Midsummer, you are leaving your small house in the village where you live and heading towards the great communal hall. All the other villagers are doing the same.

It is a light, warm evening with the clear, fresh scents of the growing crops in the air. The Sun is low in the sky, nearly on the horizon, setting into a golden glow caused by the slight haze of a summer evening.

Enter the hall now. There is an array of good food here, delicious and sustaining; nothing lavish or extravagant, because this is not an occasion for indulgence: you have a long night's vigil ahead of you. Nevertheless, you eat and drink your fill, accompanied by your fellow villagers. In a spirit of friendship, you offer a few particularly choice morsels of food to some of the others. They, in turn, honour you with something you will particularly like.

After eating, you rest for a little while, but not for too long, for the work of the night calls. No word is said, but somehow everyone knows that it is time; and quietly and solemnly they line up and file out of the door. You join them. Some of the people take a torch from a pile and light it at the communal fire. Will you be one of the torchbearers, lighting the way ahead? Or will you be more content to follow where others lead?

You are outside the hall now, heading towards the edge of the village. It is dusk, but not yet dark. The Sun has set. Jupiter, a brilliant object, is descending towards the western horizon.

Your party leaves the village and heads out over the countryside to the high moors. Dusk gathers. As the ground becomes rougher, you are glad of the light of the torches to help you find a firm foothold on the path.

Your way leads steadily upwards through gorse and bracken covered slopes. At length, you come to a wide, open tract of moorland. In the half light, you can just see in the distance a patch of darker colour, which as you approach you can make out as a circle of standing stones. They are still a long way off, though; and it seems to take an age for you to reach them.

But at last you are there, in the midst of the magnificent standing stones. Within the circle of tall, carefully hewn standing stones, there are a number of smaller, rougher stones lying on the ground. These have not simply been cast aside, nor are they there by accident. They are placed there so that you may sit or lie in comfort during the nighttime vigil that is to come.

You gratefully sit down on one of the stones. You must not get too comfortable, though, for your intention is to remain awake all night to see in the dawning of the coming day.

As Jupiter continues its descent in the western sky, some of the torchbearers gather fuel and make a fire in the centre of the circle. This will serve to keep away the chill that might otherwise fall later in the night, and to form a focus for your meditations. Someone starts a chant. Others join in, and soon the whole party is singing together. The chant continues for many minutes, until, as if by mutual agreement but apparently without a signal of any sort, everybody falls silent.

Time passes. It is just after midnight now. The bright planet Jupiter disappeared below the horizon some time ago, and all you can see overhead are the stars, twinkling against the sky, which is now completely dark, though not so dark as the night sky of winter. Another planet appears above the eastern horizon, a brilliant planet with a reddish colour: this is Mars.

More time passes, as Mars climbs steadily into te sky. The night remains quiet and still. Just the occasional rustle of a person making a small movement, perhaps pulling their clothing tighter around them as the air cools, or perhaps standing for a few moments to stretch cramped limbs. The moon has now risen, a bright semicircle hanging low in the eastern sky.

You sit, quietly, contemplating the moonlight and the embers of the dwindling fire.

What goes through your mind as you sit there? What mysteries of the Universe reveal themselves to you on this long night's vigil?

Another hour passes. At length, one of the elders gets up and walks purposefully towards the eastern side of the stone circle, poised and alert, almost as if sniffing the air.

"It is time," he says.

In the East, you think you can begin to see something: the first chink of light that indicates the coming dawn. The local wildlife has noticed it, too; you hear the first of the birds start to sing to usher in the new day.

You all gather together in the middle of the circle of stones. You continue to wait together as the sky slowly turns from black, to grey, then to blue; for a few minutes, the bright planet Venus appears above the horizon and then, finally, there is a brief golden glow on the horizon and the Sun breaks into view. As it rises in the sky, its rays of light and warmth shine down, directly between two of the upright stones and onto the waiting group of people. Soak up that light and warmth for a moment. Feel the blessings that the Sun brings with it.

And now, it is time for the villagers to return home. They have a long walk ahead of them, then they will breakfast and retire gratefully to bed. But you remain behind, and sit again on one of the rocks, for you will journey home by a different route.

Sit quietly for a few moments, then return to objective reality, in the place and the time where you started your meditation. Put your consciousness in the centre of your head, just behind your eyes; and when you are ready, open your eyes.

Take a few hours, or a few days, to absorb the significance of this meditation. If you wish, you may repeat the meditation several times during the period around the Festival concerned.