As all of you are no doubt aware, this country has been going through some pretty tough financial times this past year or so. The recession has taught us all hard lessons about cutting back, setting priorities, making choices, and savoring the simpler pleasures, the things that don’t cost a lot of money but give us a lot of enjoyment and contribute a lot of meaning to our lives. Things like spending quiet time out in nature, and savoring the company of family and friends—and yes, of our Gods.
Midsummer just passed, and despite having recently gotten a new full-time job (I now work in the herbal industry), due to a temporary financial set-back I found myself without a lot of money to celebrate. Worse, due to an exhausting and new work schedule, the holiday kind of snuck up on me, so I hadn’t really planned anything. Jo and I don’t currently have any days off in common, and because of our current household financial crisis neither of could afford to take any days off. So, I was left to make the best with what I had: very little money to spend, and not a lot of preparation time.
Now, I love putting a lot of time and effort into elaborate feasts and celebrations for the holy days when I can. I truly believe the Gods do appreciate elaborate and creative offerings and extravagant festivals (when done in the right spirit, of course, and not for the purpose of impressing others or showing off), just as any of us would appreciate a large party thrown in our honor. And yet, most of us also appreciate a small, heartfelt gift (at least I know I do), especially when we know that the giving of it was in itself a sacrifice. When someone who doesn’t have much chooses to share what they do have with me, I feel deeply honored and privileged, and I know that person thinks a lot of me; often it touches me even more than an expensive present would have. I believe our Gods feel the same way. Much as They love the elaborate celebrations held in Their honor—and much as we may enjoy creating such celebrations for Them—They also appreciate the simple gifts, and all the more so when it is a sacrifice to give them.
Mead-making is something both Woden and Frige have always stressed to me as something They wanted me to become involved with. I had tried my hand at a few quick, improvised meads in the past, but access to real brewing equipment wasn’t easy back in Philly. In Eugene, on the other hand, there are several local brewer’s supply stores. During my eight months of looking for a job, I had promised Woden that when I finally got one I would invest in some real brewing equipment and begin making mead—not just a batch or two, but continuously, as part of my spiritual practice.
Well, three weeks ago I finally got the job—and not just any job, but one with really great benefits that fits well with my spiritual Work (and is even an opportunity to train further in one aspect of my Work). Having a lot to be thankful for, I fully intended to make good on my mead-brewing promises at Midsummer—and then came the aforementioned financial crisis. The crisis is temporary; in time, I will still be able to buy a full array of brewing equipment. But in the meantime, what to do?
Having only $500 or so to get us through the next four weeks (including food for us, food for our animals, and two upcoming bills), I went to the brew shop and spent $5 on a one gallon carboy and a few dollars more on a rubber stopper, an airlock, and a packet of Lalvin champagne yeast. I would have liked—and will eventually get—a larger carboy, or several, but this is what I could reasonably afford right now, and Woden let me know in no uncertain terms that He was fine with that. I had already purchased 3 lbs of local raw and unfiltered honey, but I forgot about the other additives needed: yeast nutrient, acid mix, tannin. Once home, I ran out to another store and purchased bee pollen, raisins, and a lemon. These went into the mead as substitutes for the chemicals, along with 2 tsp of brewed Earl Grey tea and a muslin bag of chamomile flowers, for Asgard. (I’m actually very interested in making flower meads, and will be doing lavender, rose, and possibly California poppy varieties in the future.) I hadn’t planned it that way, but inspiration struck and I felt good about using natural additives instead of chemicals; it felt like a more holistic offering. (Interesting, isn’t it, the way that word—as well as the word whole itself—is related to holy.) It also made me feel good that I hadn’t allowed what first appeared to be a setback (lack of necessary ingredients) to derail me from my objective (gifting Woden, my Beloved, with some mead-in-progress).
In all, the one batch of mead cost me about $25 to make. (Which will go up to $30, because I’ll need to get a second 1 gallon carboy soon to rack the mead into.) Add to that the few dollars more we spent on feast food (which was simple, and kept us fed for several days after the holiday itself) and a bottle of commercial mead for my noon husel to Sunne on Sunday (Her day), and this was easily one of the least expensive festivals our Hearth has ever seen. And yet, every one of those few dollars spent was a tremendous sacrifice; the lack of every penny spent will be felt—acutely—in the weeks ahead. During the husel, I felt—quite vividly and clearly—that the Gods acknowledged this, and my feeling was confirmed by the rune I drew as an omen after the ritual: Tiwaz, the rune of victory and sacrifice—or perhaps, victory through sacrifice.
Sometimes, hardship is one of the best teachers we can have. It teaches us about focusing on what’s really important, and about cutting away the excess that can keep us from having a clear view of that. It teaches us about the gift of sacrifice, and the value of simplicity. All of this was confirmed for me this Midsummer as I experienced—overwhelmingly—the appreciation and joy of my Gods for the simple gifts I bestowed on Them, the small but heartfelt sacrifice I made.
And meanwhile, a 1 gallon batch of mead dedicated to Woden is happily bubbling away…
), but probably not in time to have it count in terms of the aforementioned effort.
