Bless the earth that grows the grain,
Bless the water that gives us rain,
Bless the wind that helps seed spread,
Bless the fire that bakes our bread.
Bread Blessing, by Diane Baker, music by Anne Hill, Serpentine Music
In Celtic traditions, the cross-quarter holidays are the doorways to the changing seasons, not the Solstices and Equinoxes that our secular calendars run by. So my Scots-Irish forebears, for instance, would have marked Beltane as the threshold between Spring and Summer, and today’s holiday, Lughnasadh, is the turning between Summer and the first stirrings of Autumn. This observance is also known by the Anglo-Saxon, Christianized name of “Lammas” for the bread loaves so intrinsic to this celebration.
Yes, August’s heat, especially here in North Carolina, is still ferocious. Similarly, Winter’s final punch often comes after Imbolc. But “final” is the key idea here – for it is the last hurrah of the season; the changeover is already evident to those who are attuned to the Old Ways.
This gives me a bone-deep pleasure. Perhaps it is not only my own feeling, but an echo from the ancestors whose perceptions I carry. I like the fact that these seasonal hinge times are not numeric calculations on a calendar but are felt and known by an intimate and ancient kind of reckoning. We know them by watching the comings, goings, and frisky carryings-on of wild and domestic animals, the cycles of the green world, and the rising and setting locations of the Sun and stars.
The past weeks have been some of the hottest all Summer here at Laurel Hill Cottage. But the shadows at dusk are encroaching deeper on the day, a few precocious buckeye leaves are starting to change to their crimson finery, and what my friend Alruna calls the “sucking season” is well underway: the time of Summer, heavy with heat, that seems to delight all the bitey no-see-ums, gnats, flies, mosquitoes, and of course the rising tide of spiders.
In the Wheel’s Turning
For those of us who are reaching back across the centuries and attempting to unravel the repressive interventions of the desert God religions, Lughnasadh is a juicy, resplendent celebration, the first of three harvest festivals.
Think of it! Three whole celebratory holidays, all set aside just for the purpose of bringing in the year’s yield and giving honor to the Divine Ones who enabled such bounty. Not only one or two, but three different rites of gratitude and thanksgiving.
At this time of year, when Nature’s generosity begins to fill our shelves and pantries, we also begin to see country fairs popping up. Since very ancient times, across the swaths of the Northern Hemisphere that are still deeply agrarian, Lughnasadh is still a merry celebration featuring harvest dances, fêtes, and feasting. To this day, people who live close to the land assemble with bonfires, music, matchmaking, games, and food contests.
Magical Practices for Lughnasadh
Corn, wheat, barley, and grain products such as bread are usually featured during this celebration. Making offerings to the land is a time-honored tradition. Just please make sure that your offering is not toxic to wildlife (ex: chocolate is very poisonous to many animals).
Remember from the rede: Harm none.
Also at this time, many Pagans and Witches celebrate the Harvest Gods and Goddesses, as well as honor the stories of sacrificial Dying and Resurrection–stories that are far older and more universal than the famous Christian one.
Lastly, this is a splendid holiday to raise your awareness about the food you eat. Take action to support your local farmers and sustainable agriculture. Whether you live in an urban location or out in the suburbs, or even in rural areas, get to know the food on your table — where it comes from and those whose labor put it there.
Food Insecurity
We live in troubled times when it comes to the food on our tables. Not only are there countless (mostly urban) neighborhoods that are “food deserts,” meaning they have no nearby grocery stores, but as everyone surely knows, thousands of Americans have been sickened by cyclospora–a ghastly foodborne illness from contaminated vegetables or fruits.
Thanks to the political muscle of the multinational corporate agribusiness that appears to be responsible but not held accountable, plus DOGE slashing our food safety agencies, no one seems able to trace, much less stop the growing crisis. But this outbreak is not a fluke. Many deaths occur every year because of tainted food of questionable origins.
Meanwhile, anti-immigrant militias have been terrifying essential farm and food workers, some of whom may be in this country illegally, but many of whom simply fit the racist profile that is tearing apart families and lives. Add to that the crushing price increases our farmers are navigating and having to pass along to consumers, thanks to the Felon’s colossally stupid war with Iran that has choked off their oil, fertilizer, and other resources.
Cuts to SNAP and other programs have plunged millions into poverty and hunger. This is what happens when billionaires play with our lives and their bottom line takes priority. Have we become completely numb to the merciless exploitation of the land, the animals, and even the laborers, who are all treated like parts in a factory?
Now Is the Time of Remembrance
At this precarious crossroads, let us remember that we are the children of Grandmother Gaia. There is no Planet B. We forget our beloved planet and Her lessons at our great peril.
So this year especially, as the harvest season’s door opens, let us give honor to the Goddess, the Queen of Abundance.
What we buy and feed ourselves and our loved ones is holy. The food on our tables ultimately comes, not from the business scheme of a hedge fund or giant global enterprise, but by the grace of the Great Mother of bounty and the Wise Father of our prosperity.
Therefore, honor Them today by choosing only what is in harmony with the Earth Herself. Because in all our choices–where we shop and what food we buy, how we prepare it, and how we bless it with our gratitude–we are working the most profound magic of all.
The Wheel of the Year Turns
Also at this sabbat of Lughnasadh, we now send blessings to our friends in the lands of the Southern Hemisphere, who are celebrating Imbolc. After today, Winter’s grip will begin to noticeably slip. May you each be blessed by dearest Brighid this day!
For all of us, the Equinox is now only six weeks away. After that, night’s hours overtake the daylight for six months, while Spring begins to blossom below the Equator.
Seed Keepers
In the same way that the grain now harvested from the fields contains the seed for next Spring’s planting, you are the result of your forebears’ seeds of desires and dreams. What promises are you obliged to keep, especially to the Ancestors?
You might take this day to consider what seeds of wisdom, hope, and love you may be called to protect and pass on to those who come after you.
As I have written many times, the practice of gratitude is a life-transforming activity that is actually documented to have profound medical benefits. I am not suggesting we try to gloss over the very real and troubling issues staining our world. But paying attention and opening our hearts to the gifts we are given by infinitely loving Hands, no matter what, is sweet medicine. I promise.
Maybe most of all, as we feast and give thanks for our bountiful table, let us consider what promise and fidelity we might give to the sacred land itself, that makes possible our very lives.
For Goddess knows, our fierce, loving allegiance to our Mother Earth is needed now more than ever before.
On this most ancient festival of fire and feast, the old benediction (from Robert Heinlein, actually) rings more true and imperative than ever in my memory: may you never hunger. May you never thirst.
Blessed be.
August at Pine River Pond, New Hampshire, © John Rottet, all rights reserved