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Here Comes the Sun...
May. 3rd, 2010 10:02 amI took Mason to the May Day celebration in Powderhorn Park yesterday. For those of you not from around here (or who have never experienced it), this event is going to sound stranger than fiction.
For the last thirty-six years, a puppet theatre troupe based in Minneapolis called In the Heart of the Beast puts on a free parade and performance on the Sunday closest to May 1, which is probably best described as a modern, progressive version of a morality play. Usually, it's an expansion on a classicly pagan idea -- something (greed, corporate interests, war, poverty, or, as in this year's theme, our "baggage") mortally wounds the Goddess/the Tree of Life, who must be tended by the forest creatures (as well as a change of heart in "The People," this year their baggage transformed into the tiger of activism) and then is reborn. She is played, at first, by an average-sized woman, but when she is reborn she is a huge puppet. Her skirt is the May pole.
Another reoccuring event every year is the passage of the sun across the lake. (Powderhorn Park's centerpiece is a circular lake with an island in the center of it. The lake is big, but not so large that you can't walk around it in, say, a half hour or so.) Many years, as it was this year, the weather is typical of Minnesota in spring -- gray. But, every year, the sun comes out an shines on this pageant. It's one of those moments that, if I wrote about it in a novel, you would ASSUME I made it up.
In fact, people kind of wait for it. The sun hit the shore and you could almost sense everyone on the hill (there were easily tens of thousands of us) holding their breath. The sun broke from the clouds and everyone, well, in keeping with the tiger theme this year, ROARED. It was incredible. (I have a few more pictures up at Wyrdsmiths' page.)
Mason, for his part, found the whole thing kind of boring. I blame myself. I've only attended May Day a few times in all the years I've lived in these towns, and I never remember the schedule. Even though I looked it up on the Interwebs, I still didn't quite realize that the parade would last until three and the pageant wouldn't get underway until 3:30. (Some people go for the parade, some for the performance. I've always been a fan of the performance...) So, I got Mason there early, like 11:30 am. We ate a lot of the fair food and checked out all the boothes and whatnot, but, even though we stationed ourselves near the end of the parade, he wasn't that into it. So he spent a lot of the day singing the "I'm bored" song. I made him hang out until after the performance, and I'm not sure he thought it was so awesome after all that time hanging out.
On Saturday, Beltane proper, I initiated Mason in the tradition of May baskets. I asked this question on Facebook, but I'll also ask you: how many of you (not including those raised in a pagan household) had the tradition of May baskets? They're usually handmade baskets filled with flowers and other goodies that you hang on people's doorknobs or leave on their doorstep in the early hours of May 1. We had the tradition of ringing the doorbell and dashing off, unless you set them out (as I often remember doing) before, say, 8:00 am. I find it baffling how many people DID this. It, like Halloween, is one of those traditions whose pagan roots are undeniable. In fact, when you think about it, it's the opposite of what you do on Halloween (which is its opposite on the Pagan solar calendar). You get up early and you give something AWAY. On Halloween, you go out after dark and ask for treats.
Anyway, Mason had a blast with the running away part. He had some fun putting together the baskets themselves:
But he ADORED sneaking up to our friends' houses, placing the baskets, and scurrying away.
After all that, it's hard to go back to real life. Like, I need to buy a lawnmower today and a bunch of other mundane things that I don't really want to do.
For the last thirty-six years, a puppet theatre troupe based in Minneapolis called In the Heart of the Beast puts on a free parade and performance on the Sunday closest to May 1, which is probably best described as a modern, progressive version of a morality play. Usually, it's an expansion on a classicly pagan idea -- something (greed, corporate interests, war, poverty, or, as in this year's theme, our "baggage") mortally wounds the Goddess/the Tree of Life, who must be tended by the forest creatures (as well as a change of heart in "The People," this year their baggage transformed into the tiger of activism) and then is reborn. She is played, at first, by an average-sized woman, but when she is reborn she is a huge puppet. Her skirt is the May pole.
Another reoccuring event every year is the passage of the sun across the lake. (Powderhorn Park's centerpiece is a circular lake with an island in the center of it. The lake is big, but not so large that you can't walk around it in, say, a half hour or so.) Many years, as it was this year, the weather is typical of Minnesota in spring -- gray. But, every year, the sun comes out an shines on this pageant. It's one of those moments that, if I wrote about it in a novel, you would ASSUME I made it up.
In fact, people kind of wait for it. The sun hit the shore and you could almost sense everyone on the hill (there were easily tens of thousands of us) holding their breath. The sun broke from the clouds and everyone, well, in keeping with the tiger theme this year, ROARED. It was incredible. (I have a few more pictures up at Wyrdsmiths' page.)
Mason, for his part, found the whole thing kind of boring. I blame myself. I've only attended May Day a few times in all the years I've lived in these towns, and I never remember the schedule. Even though I looked it up on the Interwebs, I still didn't quite realize that the parade would last until three and the pageant wouldn't get underway until 3:30. (Some people go for the parade, some for the performance. I've always been a fan of the performance...) So, I got Mason there early, like 11:30 am. We ate a lot of the fair food and checked out all the boothes and whatnot, but, even though we stationed ourselves near the end of the parade, he wasn't that into it. So he spent a lot of the day singing the "I'm bored" song. I made him hang out until after the performance, and I'm not sure he thought it was so awesome after all that time hanging out.
On Saturday, Beltane proper, I initiated Mason in the tradition of May baskets. I asked this question on Facebook, but I'll also ask you: how many of you (not including those raised in a pagan household) had the tradition of May baskets? They're usually handmade baskets filled with flowers and other goodies that you hang on people's doorknobs or leave on their doorstep in the early hours of May 1. We had the tradition of ringing the doorbell and dashing off, unless you set them out (as I often remember doing) before, say, 8:00 am. I find it baffling how many people DID this. It, like Halloween, is one of those traditions whose pagan roots are undeniable. In fact, when you think about it, it's the opposite of what you do on Halloween (which is its opposite on the Pagan solar calendar). You get up early and you give something AWAY. On Halloween, you go out after dark and ask for treats.
Anyway, Mason had a blast with the running away part. He had some fun putting together the baskets themselves:
But he ADORED sneaking up to our friends' houses, placing the baskets, and scurrying away.
After all that, it's hard to go back to real life. Like, I need to buy a lawnmower today and a bunch of other mundane things that I don't really want to do.