Solstice this year: fear and hope
We cannot know for sure what the rest of the growing season will bring; we can be prepared, ready to water and protect, nurture and support, in our gardens, farms, and communities.
The people’s strength was on full display last weekend with an estimated five million folks turned out across the country at marches and rallies insisting the U.S. does not and will not have a king; demanding that our democracy and our constitution be protected against the all-out assault led by the current regime.
Meanwhile, the regime’s pathetic attempt at a military parade was such a stark contrast to the power of the people that we knew backlash was coming. These so-called leaders are devoted to power and to theatrical displays that confuse, distort, and undermine people’s confidence in facts. Truly, they will lie about anything. And backlash has arrived, in more ICE raids, with agents dressed in plain clothes, masked, and not wearing badges or any forms of identification. It has come in dangerous bluster about Democrats being the enemy, and now joining a war against Iran.
Six months in to this attempt to destroy democracy at home and a rules-based order internationally, we find ourselves at a summer solstice filled with both fear and hope.
Fear that as its policies sink in and people realize the damage caused and pending, the regime will turn up its use of violence and its willingness to ignore the constitution and the courts. Hope that more and more Americans are raising their voices to say “enough,” and raising their arms to link elbows and protect the most vulnerable among us.
The solstice holds significance and meaning in so many cultural contexts. The lengthy hours of daylight, the emergence into high summer, the gradual shift toward shorter autumn days ahead. Harvests are made in this season, or broken, depending on the balance of rain and sun, the activity of pollinators, and the intensive work of farmers and other food-tenders. Warmth can become searing heat; soil can turn to dust; storms can destroy. Rain can also fall gently, nurturing the food we’ll rely on through the winter months.
This year our solstice and all it means echoes across our social and political lives as well. We cannot know for sure what the rest of the growing season will bring; we can be prepared, ready to water and protect, ready to nurture and support.
No harvest takes place without the work of a community. Our communities are showing up and speaking out, creating the chance for a bumper crop of positive change. Thank you for being part of this effort.
