honoring the organic rhythm of the feast and the fast: all souls day 2019

One of my favorite experiences in the world - and one of the most restorative, too - is feasting with my family. 

In this I am not unique and count this shared joy as a sacred gift born into us by a gracious and tender Creator: built into our bodies, habits, histories, thoughts, yearnings, seasons,spiritualities, and souls is a rhythm of living shaped by feasting and fasting. The land is clearly our mentor in this if we aren't too busy to notice. To everything there is a season: times of planting and harvesting, productivity and laying fallow, abundance and absence, hot and cold, day and night. In 21st century America, with schedules that are too full, time that is too lit, and appetites that are all too often sated by too much fast food, many of us have forgotten this blessing of this organic rhythm. 

But the yearning, while buried, abides. C.G. Jung once prophesied that when a culture loses touch with its life-giving rituals and symbols we create pathological substitutes. Forgetting that the feast is fundamentally not about the food but nourishing our hearts with gratitude and affection, we have constructed those ubiquitous temples of immediate gratification: the drive-through, fast food restaurants that now exist on every corner of our communities. There we stuff our faces with substitute love in the privacy of our own cars. Ironically, having lost touch with the natural balance of existence, we have normalized both bingeing and purging as well as perpetual dieting in a sea of obesity. While shopping earlier this week in anticipation of this weekend's feast, Di picked up one of the magazine's the line the check-out counter: "In time for the holidays," read the banner headline, "our latest 'INSTANT WEIGHT LOSS' plan!"  O Lord, in your mercy, hear our prayers.

One contingent of the clan arrived on Friday night from Brooklyn and quickly set about getting their little ones settle for the night. The next day there was time for visiting and then a long walk in the woods. Coming upon a sea of milkweed pods an idea was hatched to create "Louie's Milkweed Butterfly Garden." And after a light lunch of flatbread and hummus, that's what we did. The hill town family arrived later that day and we feasted into the night telling stories, laughing, enjoying everyone's presence, and then bringing the party to a close so that the youngest might get a good night's rest. Throughout the celebration I was keenly aware that it was All Souls Day. As the conversation and mayhem ebbed and flowed I found myself silently returning thanks for my mom and dad as well as Dianne's parents along with mentors Ray Swartzback and Sam Fogel. I set out a shot glass for them all - and toasted both Lou Reed and Mike Daniels who both brought heart and soul to me life over the years.

This morning, after Louie and I swept out his new garden and trimmed some branches from the path, we decided we needed to repair the wooden walkway that connects our deck with the driveway. Just as I had the chance to listen to him closely while creating the garden and its various signage yesterday, today I got to work with him closely measuring boards, showing him how to use a hand saw, prying up the rotten slats before power drilling the new wood into place. It was total granddad (or Gwad as he has called me for years) heaven. Later we raked-out the drainage ditch, pulled the wheel barrow around the yard together and then snacked on left over brownies.

I was keenly aware of my own mortality as we feasted - and hiked - and talked, and did home repairs. It was glorious basking fully in these moments with those I adore. Now the house is still except for the hum of the dishwasher. I can tell a nap is coming soon - and this too feels like part of the natural order of feasting, savoring, reflecting, letting go, and fasting both figuratively and literally in the days to come.