Turning The Wheel:
Reflecting the Seasons

By: Keitha (FireWind)
Posted: August 5th, 2002

Sometimes it's hard to remember what the seasons really mean. To those of us in the urban centers, or even in the suburban surroundings, we are so far removed from the natural world that it's easy to forget how vital it can be to our lives. In the spring, we see melting snow, fresh buds, birds, warmth, and thoughts of summer. In summer, there are green trees, forests to wander, warm summer nights, and light clothing. In fall, we enjoy comfy sweaters, brightly coloured trees, cool nights and busy squirrels. In winter there are icy blasts, beautiful snow, and slushy roadways.

We tend to notice the seasons when they are changing. We tend to notice the seasons most around the solsitices and equinoxes. We know that the fall equinox means that winter is approaching. We know that winter solstice means that winter is firmly entrenched. We know that the summer solstice means that summer will soon enough be over. We see the leaves budding and falling; animals mating and hibernating.

But what we tend to forget is just how important all this can be. Take away our air conditioning, our furnaces, our hot and cold running water, our cars and public transit, our microwaves and grocery stores, our convenience stores, telephones, and emergency services, and the picture changes dramatically. Take away all the metal and plastic from our lives, and we are left with what is raw and true: the need for survival.

The wheel of the year, the Sabbats, mark points in the year in which the focus for survival changes. If you want to eat this winter, you harvest. If you want to have a harvest to store, you plant. If you make it through the winter, you dance and celebrate and give thanks to the gods for it. Because you might not have.

Drop almost any one of us "civilized" people into a wilderness in the early spring and ask us to survive a year, and chances are there won't be much left to collect. We don't have the skills, the knowledge, the superstitions.

Yes, that's right: superstitions. If someone will not eat bread baked from rye grown during a particularly wet season because it's bad luck, they might not be as crazy as they seem. This supersition could possibly save their life.

There is wisdom in the Sabbats. There is wisdom in recognizing change in our lives.

Most of us don't live in an agricultural society today. To us, bread comes in bags, and there are fresh tomatoes all year long. Strawberries might be more expensive in January, but they're still juicy and sweet. But that doesn't mean we can't look at our lives during harvest and say: What do I reap? What do I cut, and what do I harvest? At Yule, we say, what makes me despair, from where does my hope spring? At Beltaine: From where comes my joy? What do I plant and nurture for the future?

It can be so hard for those who are beginning a pagan path to reconcile the Sabbats and the Wheel of the year. I remember; it wasn't long ago. But the Sabbats are more than pretty names and fun festivals. They are milestones in the year: they mark a point at which new goals come into focus. And they are times when we can reflect on what is changing in our own lives, where we are headed, how we have come here, and where we are going.

There is wisdom in the superstitions and traditions of our ancestors. There is wisdom in stopping to say: where am I? And there is wisdom in stopping to recognize the changes that are occurring all around us, and within us. For the world has much to teach us, and the seasons are her punctuating points