I'm off to Girdwood, Alaska tomorrow. My best friend lives there. We're more than close friends, we're cosmic twins. I know because our astrologer told me so. Jim is a year older than I, but we're both double Cancers with Capricorn rising. I'm not sure what that means, but everyone in Boulder back in the 70s was impressed.
I got this bug to go dance under the Northern Lights. You know what they're about don't you? Like, you never saw Peter Pan when you were growing up? Remember Tinkerbell and her fairy dust. Well, duh! They're made up of fairy dust, and I need to recharge my fairy batteries.
I will be blogging, but not often and nothing heavy, just travel commentary. I will have opportunities to visit my blog buddies and leave snarky comments, because you're all so special. Definitely I'll be back to wish you all a very merry Christmas. But first comes the winter's solstice.
I believe the winter's solstice is humankind's oldest observed holiday. I think the shortening days would definitely have been noticed by our cave-dwelling ancestors. They probably sacrificed a lot of virgins before they realized it was just a cycle. Once they were sure the sun was coming back, there would have been good cause to celebrate. It's just a theory, but it makes sense to me.
I never paid much attention to the mid-winter or mid-summer solstice before I lived in Alaska back in the 70s, but Alaskans responded to the two unique holidays with passionate abandon. Bonfires would be burned at both ends, summer and winter. There would be dances and parties that lasted days. I think there are more Christians than former hippies up there these days, but in those days, pot was practically legal, LSD was abundant, and we were all young and wild. You know, I always thought it was Alaska. Maybe it was just me.
I love certain aspects of winter. I grew up way down South and experienced snow only once. Consequently, I think snow is great. Not only is it magical and transforming, it hides a lot of ugly crap. Then there are the Northern Lights. Sometimes they appear to be far away in the heavens, almost like heat lightening. Other times they dance about your head and you think that you can hear them crackle. Most of the time they're blue and blue-green, but they come in all colors. Back about '89 or '90 there was a night of red lights. The years I lived up there, I never ceased to feel that the lights were somehow a blessing being bestowed upon me, and I felt energized. In those days I danced with wild abandon, swirling like a dervish, getting higher and higher from the music and the movement. I felt that dancing was somehow giving me the ability to fly, especially with all that fairy dust being sprinkled about. A lot of people would have thought me crazy, but the Alaskans I knew back in those days just danced with me.
This is my first trip back in the winter in about ten years. I'm ready to dance.