Last year on Lughnasad I was all worked up over food.
Riffling through some old files yesterday I discovered this entry:
I’m not sure there’s a way to talk about the “First Harvest” without paying mind to the fact that there is a severe drought across the land, or that in other parts of the country there is great flooding….
Is it possible that Neopagans (using the Bonewits definition of the term) are enacting the rituals of an earth tradition without being fully engaged as an Earth Tradition? Is it nostalgia we’re living in when we talk about “The First Harvest”?
I don’t harvest my own food. Do you know where your food comes from?
Perhaps this should be a theme of our harvest festivals. We celebrate the food we eat, and we take pause to consider how this food arrived to our table. Was it grown, picked, washed and served, or was it grown, assembled, packaged, and frozen?
The food part was a big hang up, and I had a difficult time seeing anything but the conflict between the “Old Ways,” and my total immersion in Western culture.
A few nights ago I was interviewed on The Psychic and the Witch, and toward the end of the interview I stumbled upon a different way of thinking about the holiday. It was as thought I managed to dust of the old metaphor machine in my brain, and for an instant I saw a different meaning of Lughnasad.
First, let’s acknowledge that — yes — it is good to know where your food comes from. And growing one’s own food, to whatever degree you can, provides you with a perspective on nourishment, as well a more intimate understanding of the power of the Earth Mother, which does not come from eating packaged food alone.
With all of that said, the realization that came was that I need to allow myself to look at this holiday, and perhaps the other 7 High Days, too, for its symbolic value. Metaphor is a gift religious people give ourselves, and we should use it when it serves us.
So…
The First Harvest is a time to take stock of our fields; to survey all that has grown throughout this year. Some seeds planted took root, and others did not. Some soil was better prepared, and better tended to. But, it’s undeniable that there has been change, and that change came through our hard labor, our perseverance, and on occasion, an unexpected storm.
Standing on my field, I can see a great, dynamic, living community around me. We share our voices, and we work to support one another as best we can. Since this time last year Bishop In The Grove has grown into quite a healthy garden. When each of you visit and share your stories, your insights, and your inquiries, you care for our common ground.
This blog produces a healthy crop.
But Lughnasad is a time to be proud of the work you’ve done, and also to prepare — both psychologically and physically, if necessary — for a slowing down of things. The days will get shorter and colder before long, and we must prepare ourselves by setting some things aside, yes?
But here’s where the metaphor gets complicated for me. I’d like to get some feedback from you.
“Taking stock of the fruits of our labor” is not difficult for me to wrap my mind around. I understand how that agricultural language can speak to matters of my personal productivity, innovation, creativity, and dedication to my path.
But preparing for winter? How do we, metaphorically, set things aside? Is there a pantry in our heart or mind where we can store jars of canned goodies, and if so, what do we keep in those jars?
How do we prepare, metaphorically, for the slower, colder days of Winter?
Comments
40 responses to “How Do We Stock Our Metaphoric Pantry?”
I’m an East Coast girl transplanted to the North Texas area. I miss my winters, very much. I’ve never thought consciously about the metaphoric nature of preparing for winter, since in my upbringing I was deluged with preaching about the ‘seasons of the soul,’ and preferred to incorporate my own ideas of growth for my life rather than someone else’s idea of where my soul should be in a particular ‘season’.
When I embraced Wicca I found, to my delight, that I had a ready and able teacher I had enjoyed for years: the earth. (Of course this was not news to anyone but me.) She became my mentor. The climate prohibits a garden here (although I am nurturing nine basil plants indoors at the moment; their growth makes my soul happy). My large rose garden back East taught me the often backbreaking and detailed work required to provide roses the best possible environment for abundant beauty. I remember my father in law’s response the first time I cut the roses back for the winter and piled mulch high around their roots to protect them from freezes: “You’re going to kill them!” How surprised he was when the green shoots began to appear the next spring despite the severe cutting, and that the plants grew larger and more bountifully than the prior year.
Now I prepare to leave behind the things that didn’t do so well this year, that weren’t fruitful. Such as a certain relationship which has fallen short of my expectations: for instance, I will prune my efforts to resuscitate it. I will let it lie fallow for the winter. If it sprouts shoots in the spring, I will tend them cautiously and carefully until I see if the ground and the rain will provide enough strength for it to grow in abundance. Sometimes roses don’t come back from the winter pruning, but the memory of the fragrance and beauty of their blossoms doesn’t fade.
Secondly, like chipmunks and squirrels, I gather ‘food’ now for my inner self’s growth and enjoyment: subjects I want to know more about, and things I am interested in, like more natural cooking and making natural cleaners, kind of like a summer reading list. When we bid the last of summer goodbye I will go into this hibernation, until the first shoots of new green in the spring.
Thank you for presenting this in honor of Lughnasad, because winter is (literally) right around the corner. We grow tomatoes during summer and then can these as marinara and the like for coming months, for both ourselves and to donate to local food pantries. In this economic climate more families are combining households, but are also going without more basic needs, so I think it is definitely important to donate your time, money, or food regularly to help those who are also suffering.
[…] a recent Bishop In The Grove post, “How Do We Stock Our Metaphoric Pantry,” a commenter, Adrianne, wrote: “Our daily spiritual practices are like our daily […]
Your comment about taking the ‘time to take stock of our fields’ really resonated with me for this holy day. Thank you so much.
Marta (my wife) brings an interesting twist to this discussion. She grew up in Colombia, about four degrees north of the equator. They have two “wet” and two “dry” seasons in the course of the year, but unlike monsoon areas, those don’t have an overwhelming impact on their food production. She’s mentioned that most crops grown in Colombia have two or four harvest cycles per year.
Our civic society is much more like the Colombian perpetual harvest than the Celtic annual harvest. We don’t really have a “winter” — a period when the necessities of life become scarce and we must rely upon our store. Our supermarkets import food from all over the world, so grapes are in-season year-round, as are strawberries, green beans, peaches, potatoes. We’ve insulated ourselves from ever thinking about shortage.
Our economic society is based around consumption: we are in an extended span of perpetual harvest, because there is no thought for sustainable practice. We mine ore until it is gone. We pump oil until it is gone. We log timber until it is all cut down. We fish the ocean until it is empty of life.
The 2008 partial economic crash was devastating in part because we had come to treat even money as an endless harvest. Our savings could never run out, because if they did, we simply put things on credit. Individuals did this. Institutions and businesses did this. The government did this.
We have no real concept of winter. So we perceive no need to prepare for it. The idea of “harvest” is thus radically attenuated.
Metaphorically speaking I see my friends and family as my “jars”. During winter, either literal or figurative, it can be so easy for me to stagnate. That’s when I crack open those jars. The relationships that I have with others are constantly growing and changing. They are a little piece of the summer, of my effort to know and be known by others, that exist even in the midst of winter. There is of course a place for stillness and indwelling in the winter, as there is in every season, but I find that remembering that I and the people I love are constantly growing and evolving is my “pantry in the heart.” Sorry if that was dense or hard to follow. I’m not the best at translating my thoughts into words.
Interesting analogy. Let me take it further. In Kemetic Orthodoxy, this is the time when the year itself is ending, unraveling. Then comes the epagomeal days when the five children of Nut are born, and after the year is born anew.
Monday is also my birthday, and the inevitable “taking stock” is happening along with it. I’ve been working on making some major changes in my life, and thus far they haven’t taken root. In the meantime, I plan and continue to live to the fullest of my ability. But maybe, with two of my “calendars” turning to a new page, life will turn new pages as well.
and remembering my European background, I give thanks for what has nourished me on all fronts.
This is a great post, Teo. I’ve been reading you for some time, yet this is my first comment, I believe.
For me, Lughnasa is forever tied to the birth of my daughter, which was the most spiritual and physical experience of my life, I was truly channeling the Mother Goddess that morning! She arrived triumphantly at 4:55 AM nearly 4 years ago. She is my first harvest, as it were. So of course, we feast every time it comes around!
I am also a big proponent of mindful eating. I have both a meat and veggie CSA. I frequent my local farmer’s market. I give thanks to the food I eat for its nourishment. The love that the farmers have in their craft comes through in the food, and I continue that cycle by preparing it with love for it and for my family. I could celebrate Lughnasa and then forget about the harvest teachings until Mabon, or I could continually apply them all year.
I messed up leaving a comment…here I am!
I’ve been making mead and wine, (and will be making beer as soon as I get a spare few minutes, heh), but this is the busiest time of year for me – the impetus is to get as much done as possible, gather and store and can and bottle as much as we can, to prepare for the colder and quieter winter. Working as I do half in the office and half outdoors, it is very easy to stay in tune with the cycles of the earth (as far as weather and climate goes).
Sounds quite tasty, Eran. 🙂
I wonder if in the busy movement of mead and wine making that you come to see the process as representative of something emotional or symbolic. Does the process ever come to represent something more than preparedness?
Well, when brewing, there is a huge amount of preparation, then a short time of frantic activity, and then a long period of rest – much like a microcosm of the year. It is something I have made every year since about 2005, with a different main recipe each year (though my vanilla chai mead and last year’s dark chocolate mead were such huge successes I’ve been asked to brew them again).
As for it being symbolic or emotional, absolutely – I do a lot of energy work while making things, being very firmly in the “hedge witch”/Low Magic variety of spellcrafter, and food especially is an important part of that.
Brewed a dark chocolate lambic last night. we’ll see how it comes out.
I am not sure that things translate from the soil of the earth and the bounty of nature to writing a blog or any other labour.
I have gone quite some distance down the path of food and connection to the earth in my own path. I see it not as taking stock of one own work, but honouring the work that nature has done for us.
As for your metaphor, I don’t really think it is a great metaphor for what I see Lammas as being but, hey I will have a go.
Preparing for the winter. So what is winter? Seasonality does not exist in the blogosphere does it? Well I think as individuals we have moments of creativity and we have times in the doldrums, perhaps having a couple of prepared articles in the bank to yank out when there is a dearth and calling the awen doesn’t work could be a preparation.
Thanks for your comment, @wiztwas:disqus. I’m glad that you’re a part of the dialogue.
Perhaps it isn’t the metaphor that’s broken, but rather the perspective about the role of the earth in the metaphor — that’s what I’m reading in your comment. This is a time, then, not to celebrate our own work, but on the bounty which is provided to us from the earth. Does that seem more in line with your thoughts?
It does seem relational to me, though. Nature does provide, but we are called to do a certain amount of work as well. By taking stock of our work, we can get a better sense of how effective we are in our endeavors — whether the be the planting of grain or the crafting of words.
I wonder if you could give an example of what you see as a great metaphor for Lammas. I’d be curious to know what it represents to you.
Loved this post, thank you!
As someone who uses the winter as a time of deep inner work what I metaphorically set aside is a lot of strength and compassion. The winter is when I slay my dragons. About this time when I feel the call to begin “moving inward” I not only start to take stock of the year but to bulk up my defenses and make sure I am mentally, emotionally, and spiritually prepared for what I am about to undertake. Not only does this help in meeting myself in the darkness of my mind and soul but it also helps in dealing with family and events centered around the winter holidays- an added bonus! Essentially it’s like a long drawn out pep talk before the big game. And as it is a lot like the “big game” one needs to train. So what do I keep in my pantry? Tools that will help me to stay on top of things and myself and not let myself sink too deep without the chance of resurfacing. Tools that I have learned over time and that I have made sure to keep up with so that in my time of need they are readily available. I keep lifelines in my pantry; reassuring thoughts, sympathy for my plight, tough love, tough skin, and an iron will- all things I have tended during the warmer months.
Greetings from the Midwest! Our local corn has suffered a bit, but might still be alright. We had the earliest wheat harvest since the 1930’s and we could easily get 4 cuttings of hay this year. The apples will be scarce, which is sad, but we have a bumper crop of peaches and melons.
I do appreciate having local food choices. I do not have to buy packages of pork chops or steaks in the store, I get my beef from a local farmer who grazes his stock on pasture…..a side of beef is an expensive purchase, but it is nice to have a freezer full of meat. I can usually find a local 4-H kid with a market hog they raised as an alternate entry for the fair; prices at the fair livestock auction are just too high. We have a farmer’s market from May through October for locally grown produce (as well as our gardens) and my petite Khaki Campbell ducks will lay one egg daily.
I am working on the menu for our Lughnasadh feast and looking forward to sharing it with my family.
Thank you for joining the conversation, @TheRealJerseyGirl:disqus. I’m glad you’re here.
It’s interesting – yours is the first comment I’ve read that deals so directly with the literal agricultural calendar and the harvest. You speak about the culture around the growing of food in a way that feels intimate and familiar; there’s no metaphor in what you’ve shared.
I wonder, then, if you find the need to seek our metaphors in the agricultural calendar, and if they serve you in the same way. What is it like for you to prepare your Lughnasadh feast?
To me the metaphors and the reality are all one big ball rolling along at a steady pace; I prefer to keep them intertwined. My Lughnasadh feast is tonight, so I am preparing our meal with food produced locally, and sharing with all who care to join us.
My main concern with our holidays is teaching my 6 year old daughter all about our faith, the traditions, the symbolism, the way of life that goes with it, and the appreciation for the natural beauty and riches that surround us. Our Lughnasadh feast will be an opportunity for us to enjoy the rewards of work, good company and fellowship, family, and a time for us to think about the fleeting but permanent nature of the cycles of the seasons. Living in a rural agricultural community this is part of our consciousness from a very early age, and throughout our lives it is at least a subliminal influence on a daily basis. I have lived in major urban centers in the past and understand how people in the city can be so isolated from the natural world, but for us here it is just second nature to be a part of it.
Another point i’d like to make . Being a CR style pagan to me at least growing the garden and having ties to mother earth and her cycles is quite important . When we speak of first and last harvest, the dark of winter and the lean times of our ancestors , from an agricultural point of view i can understand from personal experience .Besides my grandparents were farmers , on moms side .Altho limited and my life doesn’t depend on it , i cherish my small garden and what it does for me on a spiritual basis, not to even mention the fresh veggies, Growing my garden does give me physical and spiritual ties to my local environment . My family does do some canning , mostly seasonal fruits to share and enjoy during the cold , dark winter ……..mostly figs ,grapes and strawberries.Sometimes tomatoes if w have a bumper crop. Kilm
Thank you for your comment, @95c8d5eafb864f3b26eb38b2aced76d9:disqus. I’m glad to see you in this conversation.
Can you explain a little more about how being connected to the earth and her cycles is an extension of Celtic Reconstructionism?
well, the Ancient Celts just as other peoples , were closely tied to their lands for survival . In my case i have always felt a close tie to nature, even as a child . In the CR faiths we try to live as our ancestors did in a modern context , including our ties to our land and nature .Our rituals are still tied to the seasonal changes and agriculture , the CR year is more 4 fold as our ancestors was in the celtic pagan lands .Alot of modern Pagan ways come from Celtic traditions , as you well know . My feeling is as a proper pagan in general thes kinds of things are important …….to have personal links to what we do and believe . Kilm.
Just the simple acts of working the soil feeling the dirt in your hands , planting, growing and harvesting vegtables w/ all that entails can bring a person closer to the earths ways and her cycles . Alot of what we do and believe as pagans are based on these very cycles and agricultural ways .That is how gardening can help a pagan be closer to what we as pagans do and believe . Kilm
Following your metaphor, the colder days of Winter when we must rely on our stockpiles of food sound an awful lot like spiritual fallow times. That’s when it’s most necessary to have reserves of patience, perseverance, faith, and fellowship. We will not always be in the midst of abundant harvest, and there are times when our faith doesn’t come easy. Such is the nature of faith. To prepare for these fallow times – and everyone has them – we take care to stockpile and store up during the harvest. When we have those bursts of inspiration, motivation, and insight, we take advantage of them as thoroughly as possible.
I was coming here to say pretty much the same thing. Teo one of your recent posts was about the metaphorical winter that your friend is experiencing. I definitely believe these metaphorical summers and harvests are about digging in your roots deep to weather that winter, not just the actual snowy season. 🙂
Thank you Daniel and WhiteBirch, for these reflections.
When you fill a pantry, you can see what it there. You can count the jars, the containers, the dried food. You look at it, and get a sense of what you’ve got to help get you through.
I find it challenging to do this with my emotional, creative, motivational stockpile. The act of taking inventory of such things feels much more intuitive, sometimes illusive.
Does that make sense? Do you experience something similar, and if so, how do you take stock of the stuff you cannot see?
While Daniel and WhiteBirch said it beautifully, I would have to add that setting things aside for the winter might also refer to contemplating what you have learned from your experiences in the prior year and how you can use that knowledge in the future.
I can look at things I have learned or areas where I’ve grown and often see a distinct change in myself. Isn’t that like counting the jars on the pantry shelf? I recently returned to a regular meditation practice after a hiatus of a couple of months where my life was in so much uproar that pretty much everything else was shelved. While I’m incredibly rusty at the practice (oi, am I rusty!) the fact that I have experience with it in the past makes it much easier to pick back up… I am, in essence, flexing muscles that I had previously developed, and remembering their former strength. If I didn’t have that previous meditation practice, I wouldn’t have it to fall back on now when I’m dry and in need. Those are the kind of things I can keep stock of within myself. There are other things that can’t be counted, of course, but knowledge of how I feel healthy, strong, connected, and creative is an asset I can recognize and count on.
It took me a long time to think how to phrase that. I hope I’m clear?
One of these days, I’m just going to learn to follow any post you make with “Yeah, what Danny said.”
Well, i do grow a garden . altho small due to living in a townhouse w/ limited space . It does give me a more solid connection to mother earth and her cycles . In fact my first harvest is just coming in , cucumbers . The way i lookat it ,winter is a time to rest and recharge just like my garden does in winter while it is fallowed till spring.Altho my job stays busy , yard work and garden tending comes to a stop in november here . I’m on the East Coast Mid Atlantic US., just south of Phila. PA. , here on northern Delmarva .In this area we have well defined seasons close to Western Europe , growing seasons .Planting is usualy late april, early may , my garden will produce until late october. when it starts cooling here .I tend to rest , recover in winter , after the holidays that is . Take some time to catch up on my reading, inside home projects etc . Kilm
Love this metaphor!
Once again coming from my Christian perspective, I am reminded of the parable of the Ten Virgins, or more specifically of the counsel to “keep oil in your lamps”. I find it interesting that Jesus used lamps in the parable, given that in His time olive oil was used as both food and fuel. Failing to have it on hand meant both going hungry, and being in the dark (and I say that metaphorically as well).
I appreciate the idea not just of celebrating the harvest, but of setting aside the fruits of the harvest as part of that celebration. Perhaps we are often guilty in our lives of celebrating our successes, without pausing to take stock and gather strength from them in order to help us through upcoming spiritual and psychological lean times. At some periods in my life I have been more diligent in journaling, and given the way I have been able to look back and draw strength from my past you’d think I’d be more dedicated about it now, too. Our daily spiritual practices our like our daily bread, but the flour has to come from somewhere. I believe that when we are given periods of spiritual “harvest”– like times of revelation and heightened sensitivity to the Divine– we ought to “put up” some of that, whether by documenting it, creating a commemorative object, whatever works for you– so that in times of our own or others’ need we can draw upon our spiritual stores to give us strength and bring us back to gratitude.
I’m grateful to God that I’ve been given periods of great spiritual harvest, so that in the lean times I can look back and take nourishment from them and be reminded of my connection to the Divine and be shored up by it until the growth and the harvest come again.
“Our daily spiritual practices our like our daily bread, but the flour has to come from somewhere.”
I love that.
I also love this idea that when we’re experiencing moments of heightened awareness of the Divine, or deep, personal revelation, that we take those experiences and make something out of them. Then, we look back on what we’ve made as a reminder of what we might not be able to feel.
That’s… that’s a brilliant connection between creativity and personal piety, personal nurturing.
Thank you, Adrianne.
The light half of the year (for me) is all about turning outward, doing things out of doors, interacting with others, using that abundant spring and summer energy to grow and develop the garden of your consciousness and to help others grow around you. When winter comes, we rely on the memory of what we’ve done. Memories and thoughts are what we put back and what sustains us as we turn inward in the colder months. We share those with those closest to us and we use them to plan for that burst of energy that will come again next spring so that our metaphorical harvest will be richer, fuller, more abundant. Each year we understand a little better what we need to cultivate in our lives by reflecting on what we’ve done before.
ETA: I’m a seasonal eater, so I’ll also be literally putting back what’s been cultivated this year.
I’ve been saying this for many years. The old idea of the Sabbats (as explained to me by a High Priestess many years ago), being Rebirth of the Sun, Earth Waking up, Spring, Fertility, Summer, Harvest, Harvest, Harvest always seemed to be lacking.
We don’t live like the people of pre-Christian Europe but the energy systems and patterns are still there affecting us. The key in ritual is to find the energy that is prevalent at that point in the year and use it as part of our Pagan practice. If that makes sense.
Thanks for another fantastic article!
For me everything I do is filtered through a lens of academia since I am a full-time college student. The first harvest is a time for me to gather together the supplies I will need to be successful in the new school year. Purchasing textbooks, memory sticks, and other tools necessary to my education is a high priority. Around the equinox is when the real work begins of digging into my classes and Samhain marks the end of fall semester and receiving the final harvest of the semester; my grades. Given the sheer amount of time I have to dedicate to my studies it really is no surprise that this would color how I view my journey through the Wheel of the Year.
Great post Teo,
I love the fruits of our labor metaphor and fully employ it myself. To prepare for winter, to metaphorically set things aside in our tradition we present a large sack of seeds which represents the seed stock which is saved through the winter to be planted in the coming spring. Everyone takes a turn blessing the community seed stock and small altar sized take home sachet are distributed for personal use. I like to use bird seed or a mix of sunflower and other seeds along with watermelon seeds collected during summer celebrations. (we do a mid-summer melon)
I think the old ways were agriculturally based than earth based and I like were you’re going with this topic, great post.
I’ve done my fair bit around food activism: guerrilla plantings, community gardens, buy clubs, co-ops and so on. Central to this is the idea of “food systems” and home food systems. Metaphorically, the wheel of the year is often applied to the entire life cycle, so the best way to stock a metaphorical pantry would seem to begin with that cycle of birth, attention, development, team-building, commitment, work, surplus collection, storage, then planning to share during the dark and lean times.
Living in a fairly dark, wet and gray bioregion, I plan my spiritual activities around the weather and what is possible in each season. The north coast peoples would mostly tell stories in the winter, for example, so I set aside the dark winter months for reading. In lean times, it is more important to share, so I plan letters and meals and other visits in a similar away, trying to make sure that there are always a few extras on the shelf for emergency deployment as needed. The spring is about planning and cleaning and sharpening. The summer is about getting out and loving the too-rare sun as fully as possible. The fall is about love and memory and regret, strengthening to mourn the dead and do that honor at Samhain.
Any pantry metaphor should, I think, build from the seasons and analogies to the life cycle and physical nourishment of home food systems which include having enough in store to share and heal within community.
This is exactly what I’m talking about, @d3b864bf853ff516206b2f20ee4de3d1:disqus. I had a feeling that you would bring some valuable insights to this conversation.
Thank you so much for your comment.
I especially like what you’ve said about being able to share what’s in our pantry with the community. What is a foodstore, but the place where we put up things to nourish? Thanks for your perspective.
Wow Teo, that’s definitely food for thought. Bad pun intended 8).