There's something
mystical about the word 'rites'...
To me, it suggests
conceptual ritual rather than formal ceremony; an intuitive sensing of
an older lore intrinsically fused to the the cycle and forces of natural
order. On May Day, the sun returns to the northern hemisphere when we,
along with plants and animals, gain energy and power from the strengthening
warmth of the sun. A life force pulsates and throbs to break from winter's
darkness into every shade of green on the Dulux colour chart. It's not
followed as a set of human rules, it happens regardless and is up to
individual awareness to recognise it or not.
These aren't the ramblings of a bangle-jangling, pot-smoking, tie-dyed
draped, hoop-earringed hippy, I simply love the beginning of summer.
In Cornwall, ancient Celtic observances aren't a lingering fragment of
an earlier age; Padstow still has it's 'obby oss', which is believed
to be a relic of the sacred marriage between the earth and sky and Helston
has Flora Day. Superficially, the town's middle-class show off as the
midday dancers prance through the town to the thudding beat of a bass
drum: a juxtaposition of pagan celebration performed by people who attend
regular church on Sundays and return to their businesses and committees
the following day. There's more to it than that: a potent brew of paganism,
tradition and Spingo drawing the Cornish from across the globe to welcome
spring.
May Day is rooted in the festival of Beltane and is symbolised by the
maypole, a phallic pole planted deep in the earth representing potency
and fertility, the winding ribbons embodying the spiral of life. The
name originates from the Celtic god, Bel -the bright one, and the Gaelic
word, teine, for fire: Beltane means bright fire to signify the light
half of the year. Fire purifies evil ahead of the maiden's season of
fertility, renewal and harmony, portrayed by the fragrant white flowers
of hawthorn blossom.
Why is the 1st May so special to me? One particular May Day is branded
on my memory and other parts of my anatomy for life, and without going
into the obstetric detail and several doses of pethidine later, a wonderful
event happened that changed me and my life for ever - Happy Birthday,
Tris. xx
PS. Rough winds gave the darling buds of May... a
severe shaking at the weekend. We had some friends over for the evening
who were staying in Fowey. In the early hours they were stopped by a
policewomen who asked where they were going and explained that the road
into the village was possibly blocked by a marquee-not a runaway horse,
broken down tractor, the TARDIS, fallen tree- no, a marquee! It had broken
its ropes in the wind and was flying around somewhere... if you see a
marquee, well, I don't really know what to suggest.!
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