Unitarian Universalist Church of Palo Alto

Always Learning

I used to think of holidays as something invented by Hallmark and the capitalist machine, but lately even the crassest of holiday observances reveals a deeper wisdom, a cultural post-it note to remind us where we are in the repeating cycles of life. I think what has kept this holiday cycle going for so many centuries is this basic cultural and biological clock. The ubiquitous bunnies of spring remind us that if we look outside we will see life waking from hibernation, the leaves, bugs, birds and bunnies are back to work in our local bio system. Shiny green leaves are unfurling from buds, the birds are making nests, and the rabbits are doing what rabbits do.

After a winter of potatoes and stored-up food, the fruits of spring are to be savored. Berries of all kinds are at their peak, and soon it will be time for peaches and apricots. By the late spring of May Day all beings are growing as fast and as furiously as they can. You must be this tall to reproduce and allow your species to survive. So for goodness sake, don’t schedule anything in May. This is the end of spring growth: graduation ceremonies, class trips, weddings, school concerts. Because we know what happens in June: by Summer solstice, we are so worn out from our spring burst, that we all go traveling and need to lay back under a tree and rest out the heat, with a slice of watermelon that took all summer to grow. Who can remember what seemed so important with the warm beautiful sun making the body lazy. They have to air condition our offices or our bodies would rebel — this is summer, go outside!

That first chill of fall, the shortening days and the cooler nights wake our harvesting selves. By fall we are strangely ready to really get back to work. The cardboard cut-outs that show the pumpkins and hay bales in the fall remind those of us who work in climate controlled offices that the growing cycle of our summer crops is ending, that this is a time for gathering together. We notice the busy feeling of fall as the squirrels hide their peanuts in potted plants, as the deadlines and deliverables at work pile up. Are these so different? Everyone says “don’t schedule anything between November and December, it’s too busy.” So it all has to get done in October. As the leaves fall from the trees, we too begin to shed the crazy multitude of obligations and plans that have accrued over the growing season. We crave a time of rest.

But winter comes closer, the circle winds tighter. We spend shorter days, preparing for mid-winter. The public work is done, the cookie-making and card-signing is work of another kind. Work that could, if we let it, remind us of our connection to others. In a season of darkness and driving rain, we might have a tendency to disconnect from others, but instead we have this outpouring of Holiday cards, gifts, parties. All these weeks of preparation allow us intimate days, when many businesses close for a day or two, when people return to their loved ones, where the solitude and quiet of midwinter breaks in. For just a moment we are held in the darkest time of year, then cycling out from that quiet place.

We emerge somewhat slower, like a bear emerging from his cave, as we stumble back into our lives in January. “Don’t ever start anything the first couple of weeks in January” they say. People won’t even remember to check their e-mail until the holidays are a week behind them. The light has begun its return, and soon the work of crocuses and cherry blossoms begins. The pale pink spread over windowless drugstores and candy shops in February, reflecting an ancient memory of the berry blossoms outside. The purples and yellows of spring retail stores were not invented there first, they are in our gardens as the tulips and daffodils boldly declare that winter is past, and as the temperature dips and soars, we hope they are right. But the colors come faster and more profusely as we pass May Day, (so for goodness sake, don’t schedule anything in May, especially if you can’t do it outside) when it seems sure now that summer really will come, that the cycle really will continue.

May we, as a community, enjoy and savor each moment of our cycling years.