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Despite the outcome of the recent election, I am still finding reasons to be thankful and practice gratitude during this holiday season. I have a wonderful circle of close friends, I can still converse with my family and spend time with them, and I’ve enjoyed enough steady freelance work the last couple of months to pay my bills and stay on top of things. I’m not going to preach about fighting the good fight, or never giving up hope, or staying cheerful no matter what. For one thing, it’s just not practical for everyone right now, myself included. What I can share, is that there’s no better time than the present for practicing self-care.

Good Company

It can be all too easy to get lost in social obligations, trying in vain to create the perfect meal, or worrying too much about how we’re stacking up to others at this time of year. We need to let ourselves off the hook, take a deep breath, and cut ourselves some slack. Visiting should be about the people, not the places. The setting is a backdrop, and the food we share together is a complement to the good company. Plus, there is no such thing as perfection–so there, too.

Giving Thanks for What Is

Here at Temple of the Moon, we offer twice daily for the well-being of pagans everywhere.

The prayers (with paired offerings) are threefold:

May the people have life.

May the people have food.

May the people have beauty.

We pray that our people may continue to exist, and that we may have what we need to continue existing: sustenance both physical and spiritual.

Rarely has the seeming simplicity of those prayers seemed deeper than in this time of epidemic.

But here's my point: some day, we're going to come out on the other side of this. What that may look like, we cannot know, but of this we can be certain: it will be a time to give thanks mightily.

It well behooves us to start thinking now about what forms this might take.

    Walking out of my office is like opening an oven. The heat is a wall, strong, searing; there is a scent similar to baking bread rising from the grass that is toasting under the sun's unrelenting rays. My drive home takes me past farms along Route 5 in Deerfield: potatoes, tobacco, and corn growing strong and green despite the heat. We are not experiencing a drought; in fact the other day a thunderstorm hit on the way home with wind and rain so strong visibility was brought down to just a few feet. I am sure the rain was welcome just the same. 

    I think often of the local farmers. I am grateful for the countless hours they spend at their vocation and I recognize that it is a life I could not live. My own grandparents were farmers and factory workers, supplementing a life of hard work and unpredictable yield with wages earned by working in a foundry. Hard work and luck seem to be the mantra for farmers. Hard work, luck, technology, and engineering, farmers rely on many factors to answer their calling to serve. How did my grandparents manage? And their grandparents, and theirs? Go back generations, centuries, eras, and eventually everyone's forebears were farmers of a sort. They had only their own hard work, luck, and the grace of the gods to ensure plenty.