Lughnasadh poem

Photo by Arie Farnam

Heavy air, hot breath of summer,

I step from the coolness under the earth,

into the heat and color and brightness.

Sun so powerful, lord of day,

I walk through the garden, giving water.

Thirsty plants beg, leaves quiver.

It is well, little ones, evening comes.

The brutal sun is sinking down,

Slow and warm like honey in the summer.

At the end of the row there are broad,

Prickly leaves on delicate stalks.

Good old friend, zucchini, I bend low.

And there at last is the gift long-awaited.

First harvest, two long, green fruits,

Bristling hairs, plump with water and sun.

Thank you, for the bounty, here drink your fill.

Walking back toward cool shade,

I kiss the summer squash, quick and secret.

Another harvest come, another year survived.

I don’t grow all my food today, but knowing

That I can grow food, from the giving,

Living earth, even in a new place,

In new soil and under a harsher sun,

That is the only feeling of safety that matters.

Seeking a code of ethics for today and tomorrow

I’ve got kids ages nine and eleven. That means they are at that age when concrete thinking gives way to more abstract concepts.

“Do your chores and homework, if you want video games” is still a house rule, but, “Why can’t I hit her, when she whispers insults in my ear every few minutes, so that no grown-ups can hear? And if I can’t hit or tattle, what can I do?” becomes a much bigger issue in which the first-grade response of, “Just ignore her!” no longer entirely serves.

Life has also become very physically and psychologically hard for my family. Even before COVID-19. life was a daily struggle. If you haven’t picked up why from my blogs, it’s a bit much to explain briefly—a combination of physical and neurological disabilities, community isolation due to prejudice and a generalized toxic culture, as well as living on very modest means.

I have lived in extraordinarily diverse environments during my life, from the heights of privilege to mud and stick huts. And I’ve noted that ethical questions are a lot easier when the next meal is assured and human contact is available.

If you have enough to feed your children and you aren’t socially outcast, “Don’t steal” is a pretty clear moral rule. If not, it is far from simple.

The same goes for more complex concepts. If you are socially strong, able-bodied, included and psychologically solid, “Just ignore her!” does make good sense. If you’re chronically excluded or significantly under-privileged, if the insidious insults come in a constant stream and you can’t just leave for whatever reason, it starts to come down to your overall code of ethics.

Image via Pixabay

Image via Pixabay

With my kids these days, I too often find myself yelling—emphasizing every word, “Treat! Others! As! You! Would! Like! To! Be! Treated!”

Those who haven’t been to my house will be smiling knowingly and wagging a finger at me. Ah, but didn’t I just break that rule myself?

Not really. If I was behaving in such a way (and I did to some extent as a child), this is the response I would most like to have. At least it is the best one I know of. Emphasis does help when attention is chronically scattered.

I am glad my parents and community taught me ethical values, despite the struggle.

I would not want a parent who ignored and let the sneakiest, most mean-spirited kid’s actions stand. I would want a parent who said if five times calmly, but then eventually laid down the law with emphasis. I would want that message which is simplistic but as close to complex as a one-sentence moral code gets.

“But it’s Christian. And you’re not a Christian!,” some readers will now be chortling. When you boil your code of ethics down to its most basic form, what you get is a Christian phrase. Isn’t that a sign that you might not be on the right path?

First, we think of this Golden Rule as Christian in our society, but the truth is that some version of it is at the heart of the vast majority of human moral systems, Buddhist, Jewish, Muslim, Hindu and so forth. One exception is the core principle of Wicca, the Wiccan Rede: ""An [if] it harm none, do what ye will."

It sounds ancient, but it only dates to the mid 20th century at the earliest. And it tries to wash its hands of ethics with a fairly flippant assertion that a person should be able to do whatever they want, as long as it harms no one else.

My fundamentally animist response is “How do they define a person?” and quick on the heels of that comes “How do they define harm?”

The Rede is the most basic reason I have never actually tried out Wicca, though I dabble around the edges a lot. On the one hand the Rede is too constrictive. If I take the “harm none” statement to mean no living being or spirit may be harmed, all action becomes paralyzed. I can’t walk or eat or do much of anything without harming some being I consider to be alive and possessed of a spirit.

But interpreted more loosely it provides almost no guidance whatsoever. If you restrict the meaning only to people, you are allowed to harm everything else with abandon. If you restrict the “harm” only to intentional harm, you are allowed to be negligent and oblivious to a murderous degree. Any attempt to argue that there is some natural nuance in the Rede is merely personal interpretation and embelishment, not a moral code that can be taught to a constantly testing child.

On the other hand, the “treat others as you would want to be treated” rule provides a much more practical teaching from the perspective of a harried mother. The kid can insist that they’d be fine with that treatment, but generally they know it isn’t true.

There are occasional situations where they might truly believe they would like the treatment, such as when playing loud music that is disturbing someone else. They might believe they would like someone else to play loud music near them. But it is not nearly such a stretch to teach children that it is the respect for the needs of the other person that we mean in the rule, rather than the specifics of the situation.

It isn’t that you put on loud music for others because you would like it. It is the consideration of how you would like others to behave toward you, if you were being disturbed by something they were doing? There is no way out of it as a functional rule.

Therefore, I’m fine with the Golden Rule as a basis for teaching kids how to navigate ethical and moral issues. I don’t call it “the Golden Rule” because that does seem to be a Christian term. But as a most basic backstop, it works.

It is still too general though. It works for close-up human relationships because we understand what the other person is experiencing with our loud music. Even if I like loud music, I can relate it to a time that another person kept turning the lights on and off for fun and that was disturbing to me.

It works less well for global concerns or coexistence with non-human lives. We don’t always know enough to understand how we we are treating others in these situations.

And there are times when we simply cannot treat all others the way we would like to be treated. I would not like to be eaten, but I eat carrots. Moreover, what I do affects future generations in ways that I can’t really compare to myself.

So, while “treat others the way you want to be treated” works reasonably well for my kids. It isn’t actually enough in the long run.

And with the expansion of the one-sentence rule, Christianity fails for me. The Ten Commandments come across like a very incomplete and oddly obsessive section of a law book.

“Don’t murder.” “Don’t steal.” “Don’t tell lies about your neighbors.” Those are fine as far as they go, but they are easily covered under the “treat others the way you want to be treated” rule already.

And much of the rest of them are not something I can get behind. I will have the gods that suit me, thank you. And I am fine with others having other gods. I’m a tad confused about the bit on idols, but either way it seems like a detail, not something for the grand code of ethics.

The same applies to taking the Lord’s name in vain. I would not be very impressed with a god or any other authority who had such a fragile ego that it needs a special rule about something that might disrespect its name.

More than that though, the Ten Commandments leave out most of the things I would consider essential to a moral code. Nowhere in there is there anything about how we should live in a fragile world, how we should treat non-human life or the earth or our children or even how we should behave toward family or toward strangers.

A moral code should give us a grounding for what really matters in life.

One of the prominent moral codes in modern Paganism is the Nine Noble Virtues subscribed to by many Pagans following Northern European traditions. This comes a lot closer to what I am looking for and is something I am very tempted to put on my kitchen wall and teach to my children. More than anything in Christianity or Wicca it provides a moral compass that is more in-depth than the “treat others” rule.

The Nine Noble Virtues are:

  1. Courage: That quality that allows a person to take action even when afraid.

  2. Truth: That quality which defines a fact that can be established or agreed upon.

  3. Honor: Earned respect, good reputation and moral character.

  4. Fidelity: Loyalty and honesty to one’s partners, family, organizations, nation and so forth.

  5. Discipline: The regulation of one’s momentary impulses in the service of a code of conduct or rules one has decided to abide by.

  6. Hospitality: The quality of being kind and generous to guests and strangers, as well as giving required respect to hosts with reciprocity.

  7. Self-Reliance: The quality of providing what one needs for life and happiness through one’s own labor.

  8. Industriousness: The value of hard, detailed and careful work.

  9. Perseverance: The continued actions of work, effort and struggle despite obstacles.

It’s a decent list. It is a bit heavy on the individualism and light on compassion, but depending on the interpretation, it can serve most issues between humans. However, if we don’t explicitly discuss how we must view the earth as our host under the laws of “hospitality” and emphasize the “truth” of ecological needs, it still doesn’t cover the greater part of our ethical responsibilities.

Furthermore, history indicates that the Nine Noble Virtues are a modern Neopagan construct, not an ancient code of ethics. Heathen gods do little to further these virtues in preserved lore. Worse yet, the author of today’s version of the Nine was John Yeowell, a British fascist and white supremacist in the 1970s.

Even if this particular code was perfect in itself, its origins would call its entire moral foundation into question.

Some Native American lists of values and virtues come closer to my ideal, including a lot more about our relationship to other living beings, the earth and future generations. Yet, these are generally so specifically grounded in Native American spiritual tradition that adopting them and publicly subscribing to them might well be called “cultural appropriation.”

The seven principles of Kwanza form an admirable moral code, even if like most European Pagan traditions, it is a modern construction. The principles are:

  1. Umoja (oo-MOE-jah) - Unity - Joining together as a family, community and race

  2. Kujichagulia (koo-jee-cha-goo-LEE-ah) - Self-determination - Responsibility for one's own future

  3. Ujima (oo-JEE-mah) - Collective Work and Responsibility - Building the community together and solving any problems as a group

  4. Ujamaa (oo-JAH-mah) - Cooperative Economics - The community building and profiting from its own businesses

  5. Nia (nee-AH) - Purpose - The goal of working together to build community and further the African culture

  6. Kuumba (koo-OOM-bah) - Creativity - Using new ideas to create a more beautiful and successful community

  7. Imani (ee-MAH-nee) - Faith - Honoring African ancestors, traditions and leaders and celebrating past triumphs over adversity (Source)

Still it is too specific for general use and also the particular property of the African American culture that built it through immense struggle and effort. It is not for the whole world.

A code for practical, ethical guidance

I am pretty solid in myself, and for my own purposes, I can pick and choose among the moral codes on offer. I feel personally grounded and even though not every ethical question is simple, I am not paralyzed by difficult questions.

But it is harder with kids or anyone else who asks about my code of ethics, when I can’t point to a ready-made list.

I am now forty-four years old and I’ve been looking for such a code most of my life. It feels arrogant to even consider just crafting my own explicit code of ethics and putting it out there for others to try on for size.

On the other hand, I find that I haven’t been given a lot of choices. We all know what our current moral codes are lacking. It is time someone put out a new set of commandments.

Here is what I have so far. I have been influenced by Native American and Buddhist values and teachings as well as those of many ancient Pagan traditions, but I believe I have not been culturally appropriative here. This list is much more a matter of learning from the past to make an ethical code that can work for today and tomorrow than it is an attempt to call upon the authority of some older tradition.

Here is the list I have come up with:

  1. Integrity - I act on my beliefs and behave according to the words I espouse, despite hardship, obstacles, pain or fear. I acknowledge those things which are objectively true and understand how perspective can change things. I am grounded in my inner truth and stand by it when needed.

  2. Reciprocity - A balance of give and take is the foundation of life. The purpose of an apple is to be eaten in order to spread appleseed. Our purpose is to give gifts to life—to learn, to express, to create, to do those things only humans can do. Everything that has a spirit is alive. All that we use is a gift from some living being. All gifts and all lives require respect. Mindfulness of life and the gifts of life should inform our actions moment by moment.

  3. Gratitude - We cannot help but consume life and the gifts of life to live. Gratitude is part of our reciprocity. Gratitude, especially in times of hardship and scarcity, keeps us on our path. Gratitude is our connection to the earth, the primal mother and original love.

  4. Nurture - We are called by our bodies to perpetuate our species. As such, our actions must reflect our best understanding of what will benefit our descendants who will live after we die. It is also our purpose to nurture and defend other species in reciprocity. My own survival and health is necessary to this nurture and I must ensure my own vitality, that I may give nurture.

  5. Solidarity - When I undergo hardship, I learn to aid others. I stand with those who share my struggles. In a cold and hungry winter, I may have solidarity with a mouse. I defend those who are vulnerable to exploitation, aggression and disrespect. I am willing to make sacrifices of my comfort, wealth or safety for those who stand together with me.

  6. Empathy - I see the needs of others as equal to my own needs in importance. As I attempt to avoid pain and suffering for myself, I also avert the pain and suffering of others. When faced with conflict or choice, I consider all the needs I am aware of to take the best path forward. No one can be aware of all needs. We must listen to one another.

  7. Interconnection - I recognize that my survival and the survival of my descendants depends upon every other part of the living world. All that have spirit influence one another. No action is without consequence and most consequences cannot be easily predicted. Yet it is my responsibility to learn and act in accordance with this understanding.

  8. Justice -With power and abundance comes responsibility. A leader is one who goes first into danger and gives first to those in need. Leadership is earned by courage and solidarity. Each spirit must make decisions freely. The oppression of one by another is anathema to the natural world. We take the lives of plants and animals to eat with the knowledge that this incurs a debt of reciprocity. We may do violence in defense against unethical violence with the same understanding. There is a price and we will pay it.

  9. Openness - While I know my own truth, my mind and heart remain open and curious. New ideas, skills, concepts and perspectives are welcome. While I hold solidarity with my own, the possibility that others may enter my circle remains open. My circle of belonging is ever widening.

  10. Resilience - Survival is hard. Pursuing a goal is harder. Hard work, attention and mindfulness are necessary. Failure and suffering are inevitable. Some efforts should not be forcibly continued. However, the law of life is resilience. As long as life remains, the roots take hold and regrow. If the plant cannot live, it throws seeds that the future may be reborn.

  11. Patience - Those needs which are important take time—time waiting, time growing and time healing. Patience is needed with those who are lost in anger, hatred, fear or shame. Understanding and enlightenment take time and experience. My growth is my own responsibility, The growth of others is theirs and it is not mine to judge.

  12. Joy - The purpose of life is the experience of joy, the pure essence of passion. While joy may not always shine on me, the seed of joy is hidden in every moment. To make beauty in all work is in the service of joy. Joy in the presence and happiness of another is at the heart of love. Joy is our right and our duty on the earth.

  13. Mystery - There are many things I do not know and may never know. Seeking deeper understanding and empathy is a never ending path. Some things may never be known fully. The workings of time and the universe are great mysteries to which we are given only partial keys. Curiosity is good as long as it is guided by joy, empathy and balance. Acceptance of mystery is a virtue.

These are my values put into thirteen key words. Thirteen is a nice mystical number. I’m glad it worked out that way. I like this list better than the Nine Noble Virtues or any other similar ethical code I have encountered. It is practical. It covers those things that need to be covered while remaining flexible enough to stand the test of time.

I hope this attempt to set down my code of ethics is helpful to you, my readers. I don’t wish to preach a rigid set of values that I want others to adhere to. It is mostly for my own benefit that I have put it down here. But if I find that it is helpful to readers, I may spend several further posts exploring each of these principles in depth.

14 things I love about mud season

As the spring equinox fast approaches, the climate where I live has entered that stage commonly called "mud season." That is where the ground is still frozen hard two or three inches down but the top layer has turned into mud. Very little is blooming or even has leaves and the grass is still asleep and not doing it's job of holding mud in place.  

This is rarely anyone's favorite season. Two reasons come quickly to mind: 1. mud-caked shoes and 2. mud-caked children. Bonus reason: Frequent and unpredictable rain showers.

Image by Arie Farnam

Image by Arie Farnam

But I actually rather enjoy this season. Here are a few reasons I personally love mud season.

  1. The sun has really come back and the days are no longer dark and gray.
  2. You can actually feel a faint warmth when the sunlight touches your face.
  3. You only need a jacket and can leave some of the winter gear at home, at least around noon.
  4. Animals all around are starting to get really happy.
  5. The smell of mud and melting snow is dizzying.
  6. The few flowers that do come up now are among the prettiest and smallest and you can actually find them because nothing else is growing.
  7. Eggs and more eggs.
  8. The sun is up when the kids go to school.
  9. My greenhouses are lovely and thawed now and I can play in them and pretend that it's true spring.
  10. Did I mention the sun?
  11. The air is cleaner in our smoggy area than at any other time of the year.
  12. The birds come back all of the sudden and sing in a great chorus in the empty lot of brambles next to us.
  13. Flu season is almost over.
  14. Anticipating true spring is almost as good as the real thing.

I hope this list may be more amusing than annoying. If you are grumpy about all the mud being tracked into your house or you live someplace so hot and dry that you think we are jerks to complain about mud, I wish you a better-balanced equinox and a gently passing season.

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Arie Farnam

Arie Farnam is a war correspondent turned peace organizer, a tree-hugging herbalist, a legally blind bike rider, the off-road mama of two awesome kids, an idealist with a practical streak and author of the Kyrennei Series. She grew up outside La Grande, Oregon and now lives in a small town near Prague in the Czech Republic.

A circle of ancestors: Truths from deep in the well

Dark comes fast amid the trees, turning the colors of drying blood, red to brown. It's that time of the year, when thoughts turn to the past and to ancestors.

I put up an ancestor altar for Samhain / the Day of All Souls. There is one significant new addition to my beloved dead this year, a sweet voice I can still hear in my memory. But also over the past year, I have learned a few tidbits about how at least one of my ancestors was involved in a KKK group in Oregon. And some of the best photographs I have are from a more recent ancestor who was known to be both sexist and racist, along with having some better qualities. 

Ancestor altar.png

What does honoring the ancestors mean? Does it mean that you can take credit and say thank you if you don't know anything negative about your ancestors? Does it mean you ignore the ancestors you feel ashamed of and celebrate only those who did good things, like my great aunt who saved many lives as a humanitarian worker in the Philippines?

The past few weeks have been particularly hard on my family with a lot of community pressure and internal struggle for balance. There are times when I rethink the old belief that the universe gives us only as much hardship as our spirits can bear. It seems like the universe has been cutting it awfully close these days.

And sometimes I wonder. Maybe my philosophy is wrong. Maybe this is just bad karma from my prejudiced ancestors. 

Should I honor my ancestors?

I think of the well at our old family homestead. Once when I was fifteen, I was lowered into it to help with repairs because my slim body was a better fit for the narrow well than my father's broad-shouldered frame.

My father told me not to look up because sand and dirt could fall into my eyes as he lowered me on a rope 60 feet into the earth. I obediently kept my eyes down. With the headlamp I was wearing I got a good look at the rows upon rows of hand lain rough field stone that was used to reinforce the walls of the well. 

To this day that is one of the most respect-inspiring sights I've ever seen. I knew the rocky, clay soil of our remote Eastern Oregon ridge intimately. I had helped grow food in it since early childhood. I'd built forts and hideouts in its rugged outcrops. I had also dug for camas root in the meadows with precious little success, bruising both hands and tools on the many rough gray rocks in the clay. With my significant vision impairment, I had learned to move carefully among the jagged boulders on the windswept top of the ridge. This was not a land that lent itself to digging. 

And yet someone dug a 60 foot shaft by hand in the age before machinery and lined it with neat rows of perfectly fitted field stones. These were not the ancestors of my blood but they were in every fundamental way the ancestors of my our hearth. 

The winter my mother was pregnant with me, my family shared a tiny cabin with another family. Four adults and three small children in what was once a one-room schoolhouse. In November, they were out one night when the cabin burned to the ground, due to a faulty wood stove. My father moved my pregnant mother and two-year-old brother a quarter mile up the hollow to the moderately flat spot where this well stood. 

At the time there was nothing else there. Just the well, left by nameless settlers amid the snow and mud. My father parked an old, broken-down truck next to the well and spent the winter building a new cabin around it. I was born in the loft of that cabin, built over the roof of the old truck the next April.

This is my history and the significance of that well to me. Without a well, the dry Eastern Oregon ridges are unlivable. I knew people who had to haul water, and even as a small child, I remember having a deep gratitude for that well.

And yet...

My parents may have purchased that land fair and square, but there were--as it turned out--other traces of human habitation on it. My brother found Native American artifacts in an embankment in one of the camas meadows. And there is a circle of ancient mounds on the ridge that is too regular to be natural. 

The settlers who built the well or those who came before them--someone--stole this land, and while the road there still isn't paved, they made it possible for us to live there. 

This is what I think of every Samhain. My awe and respect for the lives endured by the ancestors of our land, hearth and family, as well as great sorrow and pain for the wrongs that can be remembered if one is willing to look. 

While I was down at the bottom of that well at the age of fifteen, I laid some insulation cloth as my father instructed. Then just before giving the proscribed tug on the rope to signal, so that I would be pulled up, I cautiously turned my head and looked up. 

I have rarely felt such raw terror in my life. At first I thought something was wrong with my vision, not out of the question given my eye condition. The top of the well was gone or else it was night and the full moon had risen. But I couldn't possibly have been down there that long, I thought frantically.

Then the truth crashed in on my consciousness. That distant round moon of light WAS the opening of the well. I had not thought about how far down 60 feet is or how closed in and vulnerable a soft human body would be that far under the earth in a shaft so narrow that I had to turn around carefully. Now that I saw the distant opening, the realization was terrifying. 

I felt my throat constrict and I fought a wave of panic that threatened to send me into senseless screaming and thrashing. My father had told me to be still and not make any loud noises. He was afraid I might dislodge stones in the well and be injured. Getting out of that well calmly was probably the first truly brave thing I ever did. 

That well was our lifeline and also an artifact of one of the worst genocides in human history. I was the great granddaughter of immigrants and settlers. I then left that land and went far across the ocean to another country, where I am a first generation immigrant and now a new citizen. I married a man who can trace the names of his ancestors back 600 years on the same little farm in the swampy land of South Bohemia. And our children are adopted from decimated families who were among a handful of Romani (Gypsies) who survived both slavery and the Holocaust in central Europe. 

Samhain is far from simple around here. 

In the end, I cannot make justice or peace for history. I can only set out the photographs, the names and the symbols of those people who came before, those who gave us life, sustenance, hope and a chance to make our own mark. 

The land of my childhood sustained me and gave me a body with health and resilience for which I am often grateful.  As a child I learned to call the quarters in the Native American way and I studied the Teutonic runes. Blood says I have no claim to the former and history has tainted the latter. There is truth in that. 

There is also truth in gratitude, in respect and in remembering. I will not claim stolen heritage. And yet, I cannot shake the feeling of kindness and peace that comes from the earth at the old homestead. I feel sorrow for the people forced to leave that land, but I do not sense that they hate me. I feel a circle of presence at Samhain, all the ancestors of my childhood--of family, of land and of hearth--and all the ancestors of my present, those of my husband, so well documented, and those of my children, unknown except for the painful history that we know rolled over them in one way or another. 

No, I do not feel an idealized warmth from all the ancestors, a circle of support and blessing. I do feel intense currents of sorrow, pain, shame and anger, interspersed with love and hope. But they are all there. They are not absent.

They are all in the circle at this time of year, no matter what baggage they may carry. And I feel called to honor them, not just on this one day but also by living in a way that gives honor for the gifts they each gave me. When the burdens seem too great, I want to always remember this. I humbly accept this life. I acknowledge what came before.

What is a meaningful harvest in the age of over-consumption

Six years ago, I decided I wanted to mark the beginning of the harvest season in a specific and flexible way In the middle of the summer, we are rarely home on a predictable date and we have a hard time keeping any sort of routine, so any family tradition in this season has to be portable and simple. 

My solution? I found a durable  table cloth and each year on August 1 or 2, the Celtic feast of the first harvest, I ask everyone who happens to share a major meal with my family, to sign the table cloth. We all sign as well. Then in odd moments over the winter, I embroider all the signatures onto the cloth. 

I'm not an expert at embroidery, so some parts are a bit clumsy, but it is a meditation in gratitude for me. Every year, that meal has been a special one, serendipitously surrounded by good friends or supportive and lovely strangers. As I embroider my gratitude is as much for the community and friendship of those brief summer moments, as it is for our physical harvest.

The harvest feast and the sense of relief and gratitude for winter's security that went along with it was a crucial part of human experience for millennia.  Today we have kitschy phrases for affirmations of gratitude, which we tend to force on people who are surviving the hardest moments of their lives--telling those fighting cancer or grieving the loss of a loved one to focus on "gratitude."

It isn't working.

Our society is increasingly disconnected from thankfulness and moreover we almost never feel that relief and satiation, the knowledge that our families are secure for the upcoming season.

Our economic ideology is one of constant "demand." We are encouraged to feel--even manipulated into believing--that our livelihood is insecure and we need more. "Employee insecurity" is a prized goal in business circles--keeping professional staff on their toes in a scary marketplace.

And the modern world really does require an awful lot of expensive stuff, if you want to have a career and not live on the margin of society growing herbs, like... ahem, some people you know. 

The reason I want to mark the harvest season isn't just because we have a garden and actually get some small harvest at this time. It has more to do with things everyone today can relate to. After all those thousands of years, humans still need a moment of relief. We don't do well in a constant state of need, anxiety and uncertainty. 

Harvest isn't just about gratitude. It is also about securing the hatches and experiencing a moment of safety. 

Gratitude is good. If you can truly feel thankful for what you have and know you have made it, marking the harvest season may come naturally. But if you are really struggling, either materially or emotionally, as so many people are today, being told that you should focus on what you are thankful for at any time of the year is not likely to help.

Instead, especially at this time when the harvest season is just beginning, there is also a need to find a moment of relief. Whatever it is that troubles your life, what would let you know that you can get through the next few months? Can you reach for something now that will give you at least a brief sense of security and stability?

Whether that's taking a much needed break and going on a well-earned vacation or reaching out to supportive friends at whatever distance, this is the modern spirit of the harvest feast.

Our modern harvest may not be an annual event, timed to the growing season. It may not even involve food or material things at all. But the biological rhythm of our bodies needs this sense of relief and security periodically. And this is a time when we are naturally yearning for it.  

In the age of too much consumption, a celebration of bounty and prosperity may not make the most sense. Instead it may help to take this time to reevaluate what we truly need, to gain a sense of fullness, so that we can let go of over-abundance and clutter. 

Our greatest need today often isn't material but rather social and emotional. What about instead of celebrating matieral bounty, celebrating the family, friends and community we have, be it small or large? What about looking at the emotional strength and balance you have built up--even if it still isn't perfect--as a harvest after hard work?

Gratitude is important. In fact, it is probably the most necessary  prerequisite for happiness. But I don't believe in feigned or forced gratitude. If you don't really feel thankful that you are not hungry, then there is little point on trying to make yourself feel it.

Looking at those things that are hard-won in your life, whatever your important milestones are--gaining confidence at work, finally starting that creative project you've dreamed of, growing a family or network of friends and so forth--may be more useful. And sharing whatever you have in over-abundance, whether it is time, knowledge or material goods, with those who have needs in that area is the best way I know of to foster your own gratitude. 

Once harvest celebrations were about amassing enough food to tide us through the lean times. Today we can adapt this concept even if you live in a city without so much as a house plant. Harvest is whatever you build up to tide you through hard times. That can be emotional, financial, social or life energy based. 

Now is the time to fill the reserves, to figure out what it is that will tide you over. You have the strength for it now.