Litha
The sun at its apex, the year at its crest. Everything golden, everything full—and the first turn toward dark.
Here, blazing noon and St. John's wort; where you are, what is so bright it almost burns?
Midsummer is the mirror of Yule—longest day to longest night, peak of light to depth of dark. But where Yule is still and waiting, Litha is extravagant. The sun does not simply shine; it pours.
And yet: even at the apex, the descent begins. The Oak King falls; the Holly King rises. From tomorrow, the days shorten. This is not tragedy but rhythm. Everything that reaches its fullness must begin to empty. The wheel does not stop at the top.
Practice
Wake before dawn on the solstice. Watch the sun rise. Stay with it as long as you can through the day—not staring, but attending. Know that you are witnessing the year’s longest performance.
Gather herbs at noon, when the sun is highest. St. John’s wort, yarrow, mugwort, vervain—whatever grows near you. Midsummer herbs carry the sun’s full strength. Dry them for winter medicine.
If you can, stay awake until sunset. Bookend the day with your attention. Then sleep deep. You’ve earned it.
Reflection
What in your life is at its peak right now? Can you celebrate fullness while knowing it will empty?
Notes
Fire and water both belong to Litha. Bonfires on hilltops, yes, but also morning dew collected before dawn—said to preserve beauty and heal sore eyes. The sun gives; the dew receives. Both are holy.