Litha Intro

The celebration of the Summer Solstice, the border between spring and summer, is known by many Pagans as Litha, a name attested to in the 8th-century writings of the Venerable Bede. In the lands of the Anglo-Saxons, of whom Bede was writing, Litha was considered the midpoint of summer and is still celebrated as Midsummer Day throughout Great Britain. However, in America, due to climatic differences, the Summer Solstice marks the beginning of the season. Regardless, the evidence suggests that the solstice was celebrated with bonfires at least as far back as the Middle Ages, when written records of such practices begin. In his 1996 book The Stations of the Sun, historian Ronald Hutton offers a possible derivation of the term bonfire: a contraction of “bone-fire,” that is, a fire in which clean bones were burned instead of wood. He notes, “The stench of the burning bones… was thought to drive away dragons” (p.313). According to Hutton, a fire made of wood without bones is more properly called a “wakefire.” He finds convincing evidence of the widespread celebration of a pre-Christian fire festival at the Summer Solstice throughout England and Ireland, though much less so in Wales and the Scottish Highlands, except in areas with a strong Scandinavian influence.

Since the Summer Solstice is the longest day of the year (and consequently the shortest night), it seems appropriate that the theme of Litha celebrations should be “Light.” What does light mean to us? As human beings, it provides an awareness of our surroundings as well as clarity. And at this time of year, light is abundant. We can shine some of that light on the darker areas within us and re-evaluate—see if we are where we want to be or if there are things we need to work on. For the Planet Earth, sunlight provides sustenance. Plants depend on photosynthesis to feed themselves, herbivorous animals depend on the plants, and carnivores consume the plant-eaters. They in turn are consumed after death to provide nutrients to the soil in which the plants grow. Light keeps the cycles of life going, and that’s something worth celebrating. In some ways, the Summer Solstice feels like a high point; the sun is at its strongest, the light is at its brightest and lingers its longest. But we should be mindful of the shadows, for we are crossing over into the waning half of the year.

Litha Ritual

Celebration for Litha, the Summer Solstice

Opening Poem

Suggested reading: “The Sunflowers” by Mary Oliver

The Summer Solstice and the Meaning of Litha

Twice a year, the Earth reaches the balance point between day and night. On those days, the equinoxes, we celebrate the life-sustaining cycles of light and dark and reflect on the turning wheel of life and death. When the day and the night are of equal length, we are reminded of the equality of all living things—for they are all aspects of Gaea, our living world. We celebrate with flame, whether the flicker of candlelight or the roar of a bonfire, to remind us of the energy of the sun and the creative spark of the cosmos beyond.

Twice a year, too, the Earth transitions from lightness into darkness and then darkness into light. On these days, the solstices, we pause again, to celebrate the lesson the Earth teaches us: that all things are temporary and that change is inevitable. The summer solstice comes at a time of warmth and light, of lengthening days and shortening nights.

At Litha, our celebration of the summer solstice, we are reminded that no matter how demanding life gets, the night always returns. The day will always end and a new night will always begin. Life is often a struggle; we grasp and slip, fight and fail, win then lose. But tranquility, like the night, is always present, if we have the presence of mind to find it.

We are at the year’s high point; as the wheel turns around us, the days will now grow shorter and shorter until we are once again spiraling beneath the stars at Yule, the celebration of the winter solstice. Even as we anticipate the peace and rest of the long dark night, we celebrate the bounty of the Earth and the life-giving power of the sun. The fields are flourishing, the fruits and herbs are fragrant and full of life. And so we celebrate the richness and bounty of our own lives.

Today is the beginning of the waning half of the year; from now until the winter solstice the day will shorten and the night will lengthen. Today marks the start of the gathering dusk, with the promise that summer will come to an end. Now we shed our fears and worries and celebrate all that is and all that will be, the ideas and projects we have brought to fruition, the joys and sorrows that have grown from the seeds we planted.

As we walk the spiral, let us think about what it is we want to celebrate about this year. What did we hope to bring into our lives this year? What did we hope to let go of? Have we done the work that will yield a rich harvest in our own lives? In the bright sunshine of summer, what do we want to learn, to create, to nurture? This is the wonder of Litha, to honor all that we have made manifest in our lives, and to look forward to the restful night that is yet to come.

Walking the Spiral

In the light of the sun   The Earth is alive
In the warmth of summer   The Earth is alive
We celebrate together   The Earth is alive
With hope for the future   The Earth is alive
With confidence in ourselves   The Earth is alive
When the world is in bloom   The Earth is alive
When the animals play   The Earth is alive
When the leaves are green   The Earth is alive
When the rivers flow   The Earth is alive
When the soil is rich   The Earth is alive
With the seeds we planted   The Earth is alive
With the work we have done   The Earth is alive
We will reap our harvest   The Earth is alive
Summer is here once more   The Earth is alive
Our bodies are strong   The Earth is alive
Our minds are keen   The Earth is alive
Our hearts are open   The Earth is alive
Life will continue   The Earth is alive

(Repeat until all have completed the spiral walk.)  

Candle Lighting

I light this candle in the name of the Ancestors, the Guardians, and all the holy ones who walk the world. May its light guide all the kindly spirits to bless this place.

I light this candle in the name of learning. May its flame remind us to look towards the unknown with curiosity and an open mind.

I light this candle in the name of creativity. May its glow inspire us and give us the confidence to share our true selves with the world.

I light this candle in the name of friendship. May its light continue to bring us together, so that we might offer each other joy, comfort, and company.

I light this candle in the name of the sun. May its flame warm our spirit and stay with us in the months to come.

I light this candle in the name of the Earth. May it illuminate our path through the coming year and remind us to walk with peace and compassion for all Gaea’s children.

Closing Poem

Suggested reading: “The Peace of Wild Things” by Wendell Berry