Our First Yule
Because Mikel is a fiercely proud Celt but also a hopelessly sentimental guy, we've had a lighted Christmas tree making spirits in our apartment bright for months. We've started a tradition of giving each other gifts the entire month of December, in the lead up to the 22nd, which marks the ancient, significant holiday of Yule.
Christians know it as Christmas, and celebrate (as I have happily every year with my family) on the 25th. Until now, however, there has always been just the tiniest inkling of something missing. I felt a lack of reverence and respect for what the day really meant. And I felt a very strong need to understand it better. My introduction to the Celtic version of the holiday seemed to bring everything into focus. Suddenly, in our dim great room sharing meaningful gifts by the light of the Yule tree, I felt like a kid again, wrapped up in the excitement of it, overjoyed that it was something special and unique to us.
I'd asked Mikel to be sure that I was up when he was--his medication gets him up insanely early--so we could share in the celebration. Somehow I don't think I needed to ask; he was obviously looking forward to the holiday as much as I was, and wouldn't have let me oversleep!
As soon as I got up I lit a Balsam Cedar candle, so the place was soon warm and redolent of a live tree. Then he waited while I made the cup of tea that is vital to my morning routine, and we began our celebration--long before the sun had even risen! I find it very fitting. In Celtica, Yule celebrates the lengthening of nights and embracing the darkness to come.
The most appropriate aspect of our first Yule, I think, is that my ancestor's Swedish declaration of "God Jul" sounds for all the world like they are wishing each other a "Good Yule." And the same to you, my faithful little audience, as to us all; Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, and a very Happy Yule!
Christians know it as Christmas, and celebrate (as I have happily every year with my family) on the 25th. Until now, however, there has always been just the tiniest inkling of something missing. I felt a lack of reverence and respect for what the day really meant. And I felt a very strong need to understand it better. My introduction to the Celtic version of the holiday seemed to bring everything into focus. Suddenly, in our dim great room sharing meaningful gifts by the light of the Yule tree, I felt like a kid again, wrapped up in the excitement of it, overjoyed that it was something special and unique to us.
I'd asked Mikel to be sure that I was up when he was--his medication gets him up insanely early--so we could share in the celebration. Somehow I don't think I needed to ask; he was obviously looking forward to the holiday as much as I was, and wouldn't have let me oversleep!
As soon as I got up I lit a Balsam Cedar candle, so the place was soon warm and redolent of a live tree. Then he waited while I made the cup of tea that is vital to my morning routine, and we began our celebration--long before the sun had even risen! I find it very fitting. In Celtica, Yule celebrates the lengthening of nights and embracing the darkness to come.
The most appropriate aspect of our first Yule, I think, is that my ancestor's Swedish declaration of "God Jul" sounds for all the world like they are wishing each other a "Good Yule." And the same to you, my faithful little audience, as to us all; Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, and a very Happy Yule!
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