Laura Tempest Zakroff
A previous summer not long ago, I was standing on top of the West Kennet Long Barrow near Avebury in England. It had been a bit of a harrowing hike and my shoes and socks were thoroughly soaked from the copious morning dew. But as I looked around, the complaints my feet were sending to my brain were hushed by the view. The sun was just gaining purchase in the startling blue morning sky. All around me, the wind gently rippled the fields of grain that surrounded the ancient burial site. The resident swallow couple went about their business, giving me a minimal side-eye as they darted around the large stones. I tried to imagine what this land looked like back during the time of the people who had built this mound. In the distance, I could see the stones and hills that had beckoned people from all around, marking Avebury as a central gathering space.
As I surveyed the beautiful landscape surrounding me, I thought, if I lived in this place, I’d definitely be celebrating the Wheel of the Year as many modern Pagans have come to know it in the last half of the century. Even Lughnasadh. How could you not feel connected to the harvest cycle with all of this beautiful grain surrounding you, singing with the spirit of the land? You can hear the ancient myths being told on the wind as it brushes the grasses. These lands are part of the origin of that cycle.
But back home it’s a whole other beast. There are different seasons, different climate cycles, different land spirits—patterns unique unto themselves. That means that parts of the Wheel of the Year’s cycle just don’t match up to the heartbeat of where I live. Even the places I have lived that are closer to the climate of England or resembled the landscape are still very different in how they feel and follow the seasons. True, you could squint your eyes on a summer day and a farm in southern New Jersey might pass for the English countryside. But the history, the land, the surrounding waters and creatures all have a different story to tell—worthy of celebration in their own right.
Which is why I feel Lughnasadh is a great reminder that if we are going to observe a Wheel of the Year in our practice, it should make sense with where and when we are living. Lughnasadh is often considered a bit of the oddball sabbat—many folks don’t know what to make of it. The solstices and equinoxes have their logical place for sure and are easily understood. When it comes to the cross-quarter days, Beltane and Samhain are well-known and also well-loved, sort of like the “big” holidays of Christmas and Easter in Christianity. Imbolc has a beloved goddess (Brigid) associated with it for many to connect with—along with the human need to feel like we are finally making way against the cold and the dark. At the tail end of winter, we need little excuse to light up some candles and celebrate to get us through to spring. But Lammas (Loaf Mass)? The one I like to call “the bread holiday”? It’s usually the one folks most often cite that makes them feel meh or bad about not “feeling” their practice.
Why is that? What is this sabbat all about? Lughnasadh marks the beginning of the harvest season in the Celtic world and is named after the god Lugh. It is celebrated with feasting, games, the making of corn dollies, and special breads that may be ritually sacrificed. It is also a favored day for handfastings in some traditions. According to folklore, Lugh’s mother Tailtiu passed away from exhaustion after clearing the land to make way for agriculture. So he held a funeral feast and games to celebrate her memory. Yet the modern observation of this event tends to focus more on him and his deeds than her sacrifice, so that particular detail tends to get a bit lost. The deeper symbolism is that Lughnasadh is a celebration of both the labor of the earth itself and those who work with the land to grow food.
So, what if you’re not intimately working with Celtic deities but some other pantheon altogether (or maybe none at all)? What if you’re not quite a “Green Witch,” and you don’t find yourself out in the fields or in the garden? Maybe your harvest season started months prior, so this seems an odd time for a “first harvest.” Heck, what if you’re sensitive or allergic to gluten and just the idea of a bread holiday (or as I like to call it, Glutengala) gives you hives or an upset stomach? Whatever the reason, you might find it really hard to connect to this particular sabbat. Perhaps maybe you’re also feeling this way about some of the others too?
I’m here to help you out. First, it’s important to recognize that the Wheel of the Year—as modern practitioners know it, with its eight sabbats—is a fairly recent creation dating back to the mid-twentieth century. It pulls upon the history and mythology of the United Kingdom, piecing together different practices over centuries with modern interpretations. Because it’s rooted in lore of the region, it definitely makes the most amount of sense there—though not uniformly depending on the region. As we move further away, we see some overlap with other locations and cultures with some of the sabbats, but the seasons, names, and practices start to differ more and more.
What’s a Witch to do? We need to foster connections with where we live and let those be our guide to crafting a wheel that works for our practice. It takes a bit more work, since you’ll be creating your own framework, but the results are worth it. Another thing to consider is that we also have a tendency to fixate on days and specific dates. In nature, seasons rarely align perfectly with the calendar, and they can vary in number and length depending on where you live. Instead, consider that the wheel is more about the flow of seasons, not specific days. A Wheel of the Year largely acknowledges the solar cycle—the way the planet reacts as we orbit around the sun, heating up and cooling down as we turn on our axis, affecting each hemisphere and altitude differently. That means while Arizona is experiencing monsoon season, fires are burning in nearby California, and hurricanes and typhoons take up residence in the Atlantic and Pacific oceans—all at once!
Now, I’m not saying to abandon celebrating sabbats on certain days. Having predetermined days is crucial when you’re organizing groups, covens, and festivals. Everyone needs to know when and where to meet. But in your personal practice, you can expand past a single-day observance or one official ritual and open yourself up to more ways to explore a season with your magic.
Finding Meaning
Here are some guidelines to help you find more meaning in the sabbats—whether you plan to work with the classic model of the Wheel of the Year or would like to assemble one unique to your practice.
Connect with the Spirit of Place
Where we live is the root of our practice. Yes, we are influenced by our ancestral practices, where we grew up (if it’s different than where we are now), the traditions we may initiate into, etc., but there’s no denying that ignoring where you reside in your practice is like a fish swimming in air: it doesn’t work for long. We are embodied spiritual beings existing in a physical realm, and there’s immediate magic to be found right underneath your feet. Tapping into it is a conduit to those distant places—the planet is all interconnected. Trying to connect to a faraway place while being disconnected to where you are makes the process that much harder. It is possible to honor both lands afar (be it your ancestry or tradition’s roots) and where you reside. It may require two different kinds of ritual (one from a tradition and one you create to acknowledge the land), but understand that ritual doesn’t have to be elaborate. Sometimes even the simplest of gestures can be incredibly powerful.
To help you connect with where you live, look to the folklore of the area. Head over to the anthropology section of the library to dive deeper for starters. What are the stories and history of the place? Who was there before you? What are the landmarks and features of the land? Consider the best way to formally introduce yourself and interact with the land through ritual.
Connect with the Spirit of the Season
Remember that seasons are not run by dates on the calendar. Spring can arrive early, winter can start late. When we start to become more in tune with the goings-on of the weather, we pick up on nature’s patterns much more easily. What is the nature of your land’s season at this time of year? What are the plants and animals doing? How does the air make you feel? Is there a specific crop or other seasonal event that coincides with this time of year? Is it something you can see being integrated into your personal practice? It doesn’t all have to be combined into one ritual, but rather can progress through the whole season, focusing on different characteristics that define the season.
Integrating Deities and Other Practices
As I mentioned earlier, most folks seem to be able to connect with the equinoxes and solstices, and usually some variation of Beltane and Samhain—largely because they can be viewed with a context that fits other cultures, even if the names aren’t the same. If you work with deities, spirits, and ancestors that aren’t associated with the modern Wheel of the Year, you might find there are myths and practices that do overlap with existing dates—if you wish to celebrate on the same pattern of the wheel. Or you may choose to alter the structure of the wheel to incorporate events that are more relevant to your practice. Is there a festival honoring a certain deity that is special to you? Is there a similar sabbat, but it happens at a slightly different time of year? What has the most amount of meaning for you and your practice?
Simply Honor Life
If you don’t work with deities, then consider what this time of year means for you personally. Is there a shift in how you function as the light decreases? Do you transition from vacation to work or school? At the very least, the time of Lugnasadh is about relishing the last days of summer while we’re still embedded within them.
Remember Why We Celebrate
Lastly, it’s important to consider that ritual is about connection and marking transitions. If you choose to celebrate a sabbat, don’t do it just because you feel obligated. Ritual celebrates life itself: the patterns that connect us to nature, to our ancestors, to our communities, and to ourselves. We do it to honor the past, to recognize the cycles of death and life happening around us, and to weave our threads in the larger tapestry of the universe.
Conclusion
I hope these points help inspire you to connect more deeply with where you live and in turn build and strengthen your practice. Also remember, like the seasons, we are ever-changing, so don’t be afraid to experiment. You can use established concepts as a foundation to see how they work, then build out from there. Give more traditional approaches a try, but don’t be afraid to use what else inspires you, especially if you feel it in your gut. Discover what works best to create the most effective and authentic practice. It may not be what everyone else is doing, but it’s your road to walk. Blessings on your path, wherever it leads you!