Business Tips: How to go From Zero to Campfire Coffee in a Few Decades

I’ve been in a big renegotiation about my relationship to work.  I’m coming out of my second maternity leave with a bang, and it’s a little jarring.  I worked all days and all hours throughout my entire pregnancy.  For those of you that don’t know, I’m a single mom who made the choice to become a parent on my own, after years of waiting for a partner.  I knew I needed to figure out a work situation that allowed me to stay home as a single nursing mother, and 6 years ago I started planning.

In 2104, after 4 years of beekeeping, Honey Bee Wild was formed.  It would become the vehicle through which this pregnancy felt possible.  I got very good at being proud of my work ethic. Hustling. Juggling. Getting things done.  Octopus-arms-for-brain.   I was usually up till midnight working.  Didn’t really know how to schedule my life, or really take a break. 

I have never really been secure around finances.  My sense of confidence in my income was emotionally and physically wobbly to say the least.  For most of my adult life I worked multiple service industry jobs (restaurants, coffee shops, tasting rooms), and offered services like piano lessons, admin assistance, tarot card readings.  I’ve always lived paycheck to paycheck.   That’s not to say I haven’t had my foray into wild ventures.  Did you know I spent a year as a chef and owner of my own Crepe stand? I spent another year running deluxe river cruises in Europe.  And I worked in the office of a predatory “spiritual” author.  I searched for my career for a LONG time.  Meanwhile I was searching for my partner so I could 1) love him 2) start a family.  This was also taking a reaaaaaaaaal long time and involved everything from ceremonies, to dating apps, to flights across the globe.

Lots of ergonomically poor decisions while baby slept.

When I mentally separated the need for a life partner from the ability to have a child in 2016 (it happened all at once during a Joanna Newsom concert), I pivoted my life toward building a business that could support me as a single parent.

I moved from Portland to Sonoma County.  I took part time restaurant jobs so I could build my business from home all day, and work in the restaurant industry at night to pay my bills.  I learned how to design my own website.  I became a virtual assistant so I could refine the skills needed to run a business.  I spent my money on beekeeping equipment and trips to England to study a small shamanic tradition connected to bees.  I treated my studies overseas like a masters degree: they were for personal growth, true, but they were also the investment I was making in my future career.

In 2017 I made a commitment to be out of the restaurant industry by 2019.  In October 2019 I jumped into running my business full time.  In 2020 I found a donor, got pregnant, agonized over the pandemic like the rest of you, and worked worked worked.  My business had its best year ever.  In 2021 I had a baby.  I ran my business from my phone while nursing.  I got hired to teach a program for the Shift Network, which was incredible but absolutely dominated my early postpartum experience (hence second maternity leave).  I hired an assistant, a nanny, a web designer, and a business coach.  I took naps with my baby, I grieved friendships, I worked till midnight a lot of nights.  When all was said and done, I stunningly doubled my income in a year.  I didn’t go from 0-6 figures in 12 months like so many of the Instagram biz coaches talk about. I grew my business slowly, year by year, with a fuck-ton of intention and methodical planning.  In 2021 I surpassed my financial goals.  

I got out of debt.  Let me say that again: I. GOT. OUT. OF. DEBT.  Nineteen years of debt.  I’m not sure if I can maintain the same income, but the year I gave birth, and ran my business for months from an iPhone while I nursed at 2am, while my insides turned outside, and my body, mind, and soul got permanently rearranged…THAT year was the year the benevolent spirit of my business spread her wings.

I remember when I was briefly connected to the 30-something crowd of coaches who all sold different variations of how to get from nothing to x figures in x amount of weeks/months.  Really makes you question your turtle shell.  But something about that always smelled off to me.  The get rich quick model does work for some people, but it was never going to be my model.  I like campfire coffee.  You know, the kind where you wake up in the back country in the morning and even though your hands are frozen and you have the quick light stove right there.  Even though you know you could have your cup in under ten minutes, you chose to gather the twigs, coax the small campfire into being, find the perfect rocks to balance the kettle, listen to the birds while it boils.  Alright, I’ll admit, I’m super into someone else building the fire, and then crawling out of my sleeping bag, but then you miss the precious magic of first one awake with the wild.

Campfire and image by Rob Totoonchie - a damn fine back country fellow, photographer, and friend.

Campfire coffee is how I built my business.  And the thing is, I don’t think my business would have allowed anything less.  Honey Bee Wild is its own creature, and just like humans, it has it’s own divine timing.   We forget that in the hustle market.  And god do you have to hustle when Big Bro Capitalism, supported by patriarchy, Chistocentrism, and white supremacy is in charge of your rent, access to health care, student loans, etc.  I digress.

I made campfire coffee, and it took a long time. 

 Last week I bought $600 worth of furniture to help baby proof the house: a nightstand, a cabinet, an ottoman, a shoe bench. I questioned every inch of those purchases, until I realized I am 40 and this was the first time I have ever bought a piece of furniture.  I have often referred to my interior design as “college dorm” style, meaning any left over piece of furniture nobody wants I’d take.  It was really damn nice to be able to buy a nightstand and say adios to this yard sale stool.

I don’t even know if I’ve “made it” or just had a really good year, but what I do know is that for the first time in my adult life, I’m not worried about how to pay my bills.  Well, mostly not, bc my bills tripled with health insurance and child care now that I make more dollars (yes, I see you hamster wheel).

The point is, I didn’t know what to do with my life, or what career to have, or how I’d ever feel even a little bit financially secure.  I’m not a one hit wonder.  I don’t have a secret recipe to my success.  I’m a single mom who kept one eye on the ground and one eye on the cosmos. 

Now what?  Do it all again.  Rinse, repeat, and hope to  stay afloat on the melting iceberg of our current reality? What I want is another month just to brainstorm.  Candlelit dinners with friends.  I want all these creative ideas inside to have room to bubble up.   A year to write my book.  I want to take an entire day off, and go to the beach with my daughter. 

I am learning to exhale.

The Twelve Days of Yuletide Revisited

Last winter I wrote a series of twelve posts on Yuletide. Each post honored a theme or tradition associated with the pre-Christian winter holidays in old Europe. I have complied them here in one long post for you to browse through. Enjoy!

The First Day of Yuletide

MOTHER’S NIGHT

December 20

For the next twelve days I am going to be doing a series on some of the Old European traditions associated midwinter. We begin with the twelve days themselves.

We all know the popular song, but what are the twelve days of Christmas? If you go looking, you’ll likely be told the 12 days of Christmas begin on Christmas Day and end on January 6th. From the birth of Christ to the coming of the three wise men. Twelve days plucked from the people who celebrated the Earth and handed in a neat little package of Christian theology, avoiding old traditions like Mother’s Night.

So what are the original twelve days of Christmas? To understand this, we must first recall that prior to Christianity there were centuries of celebration at midwinter. In fact, in the Roman Empire, 250 years after the birth of Christ, the people celebrated the 25th of December as the rebirth of the Sol Invictus, the “Unconquerable Sun”. In early Christianity, there were even some who claimed the Nativity was on summer solstice. It’s important to remember that what’s in the Bible we know today was decided upon. There is actually no biblical evidence of Christ being born at midwinter, but since midwinter is a time when people celebrate the return of the the light (literally, the sun), it only made sense to meld the birth of the Christian saviour with pre-existing rituals. Christianity couldn’t quite do away with long-standing folk traditions, so it absorbed them, making slight alterations.

One of those alterations was to change the dates of the twelve days of Yuletide, and give each day to a Saint. Nice and tidy. The original twelve days actually begin on Mother’s night, the eve of winter solstice. Today. December 20th.

Mother’s Night comes from Scandinavian and Anglo-Saxon traditions. In the Norse tradition, this night celebrated the Dísir or ancestral mothers. The Dísir were the Old Ones: ancestral grandmothers who blessed, protected and provided prophetic counsel to the clan. This is a night for holding vigil through the dark.



The Second Day of Yuletide

YULE/WINTER SOLSTICE/MIDWINTER

Today marks the shortest day of the year, followed by the longest night. Back when calendars followed the season and cycles of the stars, the solstices were times of lasting festivals and holy observances. In some places like the Celtic Isles, Winter’s Night was a time when the flame or light of the previous year was burned through the night, to usher in the dawning of the light on the following morning. In this way, the flame of the old year ignites the new year.

In continuation with my 12 days of Yuletide exploration, I give you the Yule Log. All across old Europe, it was customary to fell a tree, usually Oak, Spruce or Pine, and drag it through the village to eventually be placed upon the hearth and burned through Solstice Night and sometimes beyond. The ash from the log was often saved and used in various cultures to bless the crops, aid in fertility, protect against storms, and heal the sick.

I’m calling it the Yule log because that is how it was popularised by Victorian Era England, but it has many names and many customs tied to it. Yule is derived from Juul, a Scandinavian midwinter feast when a Juul Log was burned in honour of the Lightning God, Thor. In France, the Tréfoir de Nöel was burned for all 12 nights of Christmas, and the ashes were saved to protect against lightning strikes. In Italy, the log was laid upon Juniper boughs, which coins were placed upon it. In England, a branch from the old log of the year before was saved to light the new.

One of my favourite associations is the connection between the Yule log and the snake, described by 

archaeologist Marija Gimbutas She discusses how the log is a representation of the snake, or the “life force” of the earth and symbolises renewal. In the Scottish Highlands, the Yule log is the Cailléach, the Old Hag/Woman who was burned to make way for the renewal of life. As such, the ash, once again, had the healing powers of fertility.

You may not have a hearth, but you can follow the footsteps of folk traditions by lighting a candle at dusk or greeting the sun at dawn.

-Art by Harriet M. Bennett-

The Third Day of Yuletide

MISTLETOE

“The Druids held nothing more sacred than the mistletoe and the tree that bears it, always supposing that tree to be the oak….They call the mistletoe by a name meaning, in their language, the all-healing.” - Pliny

It has not been so very long that we have lived as if our lives did not depend on the crops, the seasons and the forces that move determine them. When dark winter reigned, people looked to that which brings life. They looked to the sun deities of rebirth. They looked to the fertile promise of life held within the female form, honouring traditions like mother’s night. They also looked to that which lasts even in the heart of winter. This is where the tradition of bringing the ever-green into the home to deck the halls and the mantle. The holly, ivy, pine, fir and of course, mistletoe. It only makes sense that this sacred all-healing herb of fertility found its way into our modern traditions, without losing its essence of the promise of life. For what does a kiss under the mistletoe represent at its heart? The promise of love, life, and renewal. As a side note, mistletoe wasn’t the only green associated with kissing. In parts of England, there was also a “kissing bush” made from evergreen and holly, and filled with red apples or red paper “roses”.

While popularised as a kissing sprig for the hopeful, it has other folk customs associated with it. In France it is given as a gift on New Year symbolising peace and luck. In Sweden, similar to the Yule log ash, the mistletoe was placed on doors and mantles to protect from lightning. In England it was given to athletes because it held all the distilled “soul” or power of the Oak tree it grew up.

Whether you are decking the halls with sprigs of mistletoe for fertility, for luck, for peace or for strength, remember it is an utterly pagan tradition that remained strong, despite the Church trying to ban it. I would like to think that’s because nobody wants to get rid of a tradition that involves kissing in the darkest time of the year. This was the time of year that the wild revelry of Roman Saturnalia took place after all.

The Fourth Day of Yuletide

DEER MOTHER

Once upon a time, a great forest blanketed the northern lands. It stretched from Scandinavia to the British Isles, and from Siberia over the land bridge into North America. Moving through that forest were those who knew the silver tracks of the old ways: the deer and their people.

Today, this great forest has diminished, and the way of life for its indigenous guardians is threatened. We call this forest of the north the Taiga or the Boreal forest and out of it’s depths comes one of our most beloved winter fairy tales.

It was always the reindeer that truly captured my childhood imagination: a sleigh of flying deer, spinning their way through the stars to land on my rooftop where I left carrots and cookies? How marvellous! But Santa’s reindeer have a much older origin and so does the elf himself.

The story of the reindeer came from the snow covered lands of Northern Europe where the people honoured Deer Mother. The reindeer is the only deer where the female is larger than the stag. Both male and female reindeer have antlers, but only the female retains her antlers in winter. Much like elephants, the oldest matriarch leads the herd. For the Sami people in northern Scandinavia, life depends on following the herds. There is an ancient marriage between the deer and the people. Deer bring life. On winter solstice, Deer Mother takes to the skies, carrying the light of the sun in her antlers, bringing rebirth to the land.

The cult of the deer stretches back 14,000 years and reaches across Asia, North America and most of Europe. There were a number of goddesses associated with the deer. One of these is Saule the sun goddess from Latvia and Lithuania. Saule rides across the sky at midwinter in a sleigh lead by reindeer. She weeps her tears (sacred waters) and each tear is forged into amber which she throws down to the people along with apples (often associated with fertility and eternal life). Deer mother is so enduring that she found her way into our modern myths and stories, even if obscured behind the Patriarchal wash over her most holy act.

The Fifth Day of Christmas

Santa

We discussed how re-branded Rudolf can be restored to proper status as Deer Mother. Following in suit, we can’t talk about flying reindeer without discussing the gnome. And by gnome I mean The Elf. Or the Shaman. Or the Spirit. Father Christmas. Papa Nöel. Saint Nicholas. Kris Kringle. You know, Santa.

Some folks like to source Santa’s origins in a 3rd century saint known as Nicholas, the patron saint of children. There are many different representations of a benevolent holy man who watches over children, so I have plenty of room for Saint Nicholas in my heart, but let’s not forget the true origins of the holy one in the sleigh.

There is a rich shamanic heritage connecting many modern day Christmas traditions with the Northern peoples. In particular, we owe much of our folk customs to the Evenki, or Tungusic people of Siberia; the reindeer herders (also the Sami to their west of Siberia). Aside from their dependence on reindeer in the long winters, the Northern shamanic cultures also have sacred ties to a red capped mushroom that grows symbiotically beneath evergreen trees. The Amanita Muscaria, or the Fy Agaric is exactly the mushroom you imagine when you think of Christmas gnomes and Santa. It is a psychoactive mushroom the people would harvest and dry by laying them on the branches of the evergreen trees, like our modern Christmas tree. The shaman would later collect them in a large sac and deliver them as gifts to the people. One of the attributes of the Amanita is indeed to cause one to “experience” flying and witness flight in other grounded creatures like the reindeer.

Amani ya brought health and well being, but it was also how the shaman and the people could travel to the spirit world and bring wisdom, knowledge and “gifts” back to the people. Did you know this is the culture were we actually get the word Shaman or šamán, meaning “one who knows.” No wonder Santa, bringing his gifts from the Otherworld, is the spirit of winter who “knows”. Tonight, when you leave your cookies by the chimney, leave a little something for the spirits who bestow their gifts this time of year.

The Sixth Day of Yuletide

THE CHRISTMAS TREE

That’s me (left) and my oldest friend at the ripe old age of 1.

If you’re following along with these posts, you have probably gathered that most of the Christmas traditions I’m sharing have older roots in Northern and Eastern Europe. There are some Roman influences, but overall, much of our winter celebrations come from the cold, snowy lands where sunlight is in short supply this time of year. The beloved Christmas Tree is no different.

As with most of these traditions, there is no hard and fast origin date or place for the Christmas tree. Decking the halls with boughs of holly and evergreen has been a practice among pre-Christian Europeans for centuries. Often branches of evergreens, symbolising the continuation and ever-renewing force of life on earth, would be placed over windows and doors, or decorating major festivals such as Roman Saturnalia. This Roman festival of wild revelry, celebrated during what is now modern day Christmas, was a festival of joy and merrymaking in honour of the God Saturn.

Most decorated evergreens were set up in village squares or paraded from house to house. It wasn’t until the Victorian era that the indoor Christmas tree decorated with candles became popularised. Queen Victoria’s husband, Prince Albert, was German and introduced many of our most popular Christmas traditions to the royal household and thus to England and the United States. In parts of Poland and other Eastern European countries, the top of a fir tree or a large branch was hung suspended from the ceiling, usually over the table. These were decorated with fruits and nuts. In Germany in the 16th century, there are records of trees also being decorated with dates, apples and other foods, as well as cut paper flowers.

The tradition of tinsel on the tree also comes from Eastern and Northern Europe, where strips of silver were hung from the tree. There is even a legend of a Christmas spider who weaves strands of silver and gold to decorate the tree as the family sleeps. In some places it is considered good luck to find a spider and her web in the Christmas tree.

The Seventh Day of Yuletide

THE CHRISTMAS WITCH

Ever heard of La Befana? She comes from an Italian legend connected to the birth of Jesus. La Befana's name is derived from the Greek word for Epiphany. The Epiphany is the day baby Jesus was revealed as the Son of God. The legend says the Three Magi stopped at La Befana’s home on their way to find the baby Jesus. She is described as an ugly, poor, old woman with a broom (recall the Cailleach of the Celts). The witch receives the three Magi. In some legends they asked her for directions and she points to the star of Bethlehem. In others, they are already following the star and invite her to come along. La Befana refuses because she has too much sweeping to do, but after they leave she changes her mind. She tries to follow them without luck, and to this day, she wanders the skies on her broom looking for baby Jesus. At each home she flies down chimneys and leaves gifts for good children or coal for bad children.

Prior to Santa Claus, the only gift-giver at this time of year in Southern Italy was La Befana. She too, has older roots than her encounter with the Three Magi. In pre-Christian Italy, there was a tradition burning an effigy of an old lady to bring in the new year. Pieces of that fire, as well as the sacred ceppo, or Yule log, were represented in her gifts of fertility now known as "lumps of" coal. Lift up any tradition and there is another one that is Earth honouring, and perhaps a little more female honouring hiding underneath it.

Midwinter was considered a time when witches and ancestral spirits could most easily be felt. It was at this time that stories were told and divinations were cast. It was time for magic and divination. Who better to represent this time than a benevolent witch who somehow found her way into Christian myth. The broom is one of the most powerful symbols of Old European women’s spirituality. It is the symbol of the spirit flight of the shaman, or witch, or seer. It is the world tree. It is the spine, the Axis Mundi, the sacred tool. It is a women's spiritual heritage hidden in plain sight.

The Eighth Day of Yuletide

SING TO THE TREES

I grew up in a town that was small enough to still have Christmas carolling. I used to love going from house to house singing tunes. We gathered before a house and sang until the owners opened the door. Sometimes they ignored us, but sometimes they would join in. If I had been doing this a few centuries back, perhaps the owners would have offered treats, money or gifts. Or, perhaps we wouldn’t have been singing to homeowners at all; we would have been singing to the trees.

Christmas carolling, in the old sense of going from door to door and singing, has roots in Wassailing. As in: “Here we go a-wassailing among the leaves so green…” Wassail is a drink and a folk tradition celebrated during the twelve nights of Christmas, or in early January. The word comes from Anglo Saxon “vesheil” meaning “be well” or “be whole”. As a drink, it is typically made from a spiced wine/ale or cider and sometimes an egg. In medieval England, where abundant apple orchards grew, and livelihoods depended on a bountiful harvest, folk would go down to the orchards with a large bowl of hot, spiced wassail. Often they dressed colourfully, wore feathers in their hats and even performed masked plays. Songs were sung to the trees while wassail was sprinkled over the branches. The bowl of wassail was also shared among revellers, and at the end, the villagers went to the largest tree in the orchard and poured the remaining wassail into its roots. Toast soaked in cider or beer was placed in the forks of the tree. Ever wonder where the term “toast” while drinking came from? Now you know. All this was done with the intention to wake the spirit of the trees and ward off an evil spirit that may harm the harvest.

Wassailing has recently made a comeback in parts of England and the US! You can go sing to the trees one of these winter nights. It doesn’t have to be an apple tree. Any fruit tree will do. Just remember to bring a piping thermos of spiced wassail and offer some to the spirit of the tree. Be well!

Photo cred: 1) public domain 2) @deans_court 3) @cornwalllive 4) @westerncider

The Ninth Day of Christmas

MUMMING

Do you go on costumed capers over the holidays? Because you should. Don’t leave your masks and revelry to Halloween, there is still time to join in with Celtic winter tradition of Mumming. Although, you may need to invite at least one friend to dress as a ghostly horse. Rules are rules.

Similar to wassailing, mumming has had a resurgence in Ireland and Britain. Mummers would typically dress unrecognisably, swap clothes, wear masks and go about the village singing, dancing and performing plays at each house. These revelries often happened within the twelve days of Christmas. Traditionally it was done in silence or “mum”, although singing and rhyme became a major part of the plays as the tradition continued. The word mum means silence. This is where we get the phrase “mum’s the word”. Mumming and wassailing often overlap, but there is a third tradition worth mentioning here as well: The Grey Mare. In Wales the Grey Mare is called Y Fari Lwyd or Mari Lwyd. As it goes, the skull of a horse is placed on a pole with a white hood hanging behind her. Often she is decorated with ribbons and adornments, but her skull is usually left bare. In this Welsh tradition, folk carry the hobby horse to pubs and homes where they perform a rhyme game with the owners in exchange for entry. The mummers offer a verse of playful insults and the folks inside the house have to reply with a rhyming insult. This goes on until one of the sides falters on the rhyme. If the mummers falter, they leave, but if it’s the home owners, the mummers are invited in for drinks, food and mischief.

Why a horse? There is a Christian story about a lost horse and Mother Mary, but the practice is markedly pre-Christian. In Celtic culture the horse was considered sacred as was white animals. White or silver (grey) animals were emissaries of the Celtic Otherworld: the white hind, raven, hounds of Annwn, and Rhiannon’s horse, to name a few. It was a way to carry the spirits with you. Yuletide is a time when the veil between this world and the other is thin, and brings both tricker energy and blessings.

Photo: wikimedia commons

The Tenth Day of Yuletide

ELVES

The mid-winter festivals aren’t just for honouring ancestors and celebrating the light. They are also a time for the fey folk. In pre-Christian Europe, the feast days occurred during key points in the seasonal calendar. The equinoxes and solstices were always considered powerful days of magic. It is on such days that reality is less distinct: ordinary and non-ordinary reality, or what the Celts call “the veil between the worlds” is mutable. The veil becomes thin and fairy folk are often seen.

In Scandinavian cultures, one of these fairy creatures is the tomten. The tomten is a short, gnomelike old man, often dressed in red with a white beard and a pointed cap. You’ve probably seen felted versions of tomten on Christmas trees. The tomten are general benevolent Swedish gnomes, who share relations with the Danish Nissemen and Finnish Tonttu. It is the gnomes who bring gifts at Yuletide. Tomte means “homestead man”. These fey folk are the spirit of the home and offer both protection and company during the long months of winter. They are usually friendly, guarding the home or farm against evil, but they are also known to respond to bad behavior with their own mischief. Does it sound like any red-dressed elf you know? These elven creatures had a great deal to lend to our modern day commercialised version of Santa Claus. This is also where the story of Santa’s elf helpers comes from.

The myths and legends behind these gnome helpers are often associated with the very practical job of running a farm and keeping things clean and orderly. One of the surest ways to upset a tomten and bring down his mischief is to be messy, untidy or rude. On Christmas Eve, the tomten is left butter for his porridge, just like the bees are left a candied cake.

The Germanic, Slavic, Norse and Celtic myths are full of otherworldly creatures who visit during “thin” times like winter solstice. It is a time for great blessing and honouring of the land and its otherworldly inhabitants, so that life may return to thrive in the green of summer once more

Art: Nasjonalbiblioteket Norway 1885

The Eleventh Day of Christmas

SATURNALIA

The Christmas season is full of many traditions that have their roots in the rivulets and estuaries of folklore. From flying reindeer to fruit cakes, there is a rich tapestry of customs woven between the old gods and the new. Christmas is simply the newest name for a time period that required merriment. Why? Because we all need to lift our spirits in the heart of winter. Do you think we’re the first generation to experience Seasonal Affective Disorder? Definitely not. When your life literally depends on the sun coming back to warm the land and make crops grow, seasons become awfully important. This time of year was about prophecy, divination, offerings, celebration, song, storytelling, nourishment and giving. And though we may not like to remember it, in our tidy, holy days, this time of year has also always been about getting it on. If you need any clues just look at the trailing star leading from mistletoe to the New Year’s Eve kiss. From whence does such amorous behaviour stem? Well, from every culture dealing with long nights, spicy brews and close quarters. But also, from the Greek and Roman winter celebrations such as Saturnalia and the winter feasts of Poseidon and Dionysus. These were feasts that carried on for days if not the whole damn month and required an “anything goes attitude”. Let’s all remember, that before the shitty Patriarchal oppression of women by the Church, folk had a much more realistic attitude toward sex. As in, it happened, often. Both men AND women enjoyed it. Women created life from it. It was pleasurable for women (and men). And sometimes, in the dark of winter, it could really just lift the spirits and bring about a little more of that sacred fertility every culture since forever has been celebrating.

Saturnalia, the most well known of these festivals, was a time for merriment, drunkenness, and the breaking of social rules. Servants were served by masters. Clothing was swapped, nakedness abounded, and much banter was to be had. There were even honey cakes shaped like male and female sexual organs paraded around and, erm *coughs*…consumed. 

It was your everyday bacchanalia. The gods of love and wine ruled. This was one of the first origins of Christmas. That’s right. Folks celebrated the return of the light (read: the return of fertility and life) by exchanging gifts, songs, kisses and oh so much more. Speaking of Bacchus, did you know that Dionysus was also a sun god reborn and that his festival was on the winter solstice? Brumalia, was the Greek winter holiday associated with Dionysus and wine. It wasn’t only his, in early days this winter festival of rebirth and the “Waxing of the light” was also associated with the parthenogenetic (virgin birth) Goddess Demeter and her underworld daughter Persephone. Life meets death meets life again. Shall we go back even further? There we find the ancient death and resurrection of the Sumerian goddess of the light, Inanna. What sits between the powerful force of death and the ever-renewing spring of life? Sex, of course. And so when all gets upended on its head and the gifts have been given…when the songs have been sung and the wine all drunk, people kiss beneath the mistletoe and at the strike of twelve because: life. Life. Life. Life. In the face of dark winter’s death, we insist on life.

The Twelfth Day of Christmas

Twelfth Night

What better way to end the 12 days than with a celebration of Twelfth Night. What exactly is Twelfth Night? It’s the final night, the last hurray, the “Go big or go home”. It’s origins lie somewhere in antiquity, between the Nordic Juul season and the Roman Saturnalia. Or perhaps even older than that. The winter festivals were never about one day. The season of winter merriment was just that, a season, which eventually had to come to a close so that the hard work of winter could carry on. What better way to end that season than with a party? The Twelfth Night comes from the Christian feast of the eve of the Epiphany, typically celebrated Jan 5th. The Epiphany is also known as the Feast of the three Magic Kings, marking the arrival of the 3 Wise Men to Jerusalem. However, prior to the Catholic Church deciding on the 6th for the Epiphany, there was an older tradition of celebrating the end of Yule which began at Winter Solstice. In fact, the church actually changed the day of the Epiphany to try to discourage the generally pagan revelry that occurred on the original 12th night: New Years Eve. Good try dudes. It failed. ⠀

So let's carry on with the merriment: 🍰 In Old England there was a custom of the King’s Cake. On this night, a cake was made. A bean was baked into one half, and a pea into the other. As guests arrived, men were given slices of cake from the bean side and women from the pea side. Whomever received the piece with the bean or pea was crowned the King and Queen of Revels. ⠀

 In Celtic countries like Wales, Scotland and Ireland, there is a tradition of first footing. It is considered good luck to have the first person who enters your home after the stroke of midnight be a dark haired man (a stranger is best!) bearing gifts of a coal, shortbread, or whisky! This likely stems from the fear of blonde Viking invaders in Northern Scotland. Besides who doesn’t want a tall, dark and handsome stranger bearing gifts at your door at midnight. Shall I send my address?⠀

Furthermore, in Scotland, where Christmas was banned by the church for a period of time (for being too pagan), the people celebrate Hogmanay. Folk used to actually work through Christmas and put all their festive attention on Hogmanay. This grand New Year’s Eve festival of fire balls, torches, fireworks, and lights includes traditions such as first-footing, kissing (of course), and ringing of bells to clear the old and ring in the new. It was also a time of gift giving and house cleaning. If you’re in Edinburgh you might even start New Year’s Day with an icy dip in the sea!

In Ireland, single people often placed a sprig of mistletoe, holly or ivy under their pillow in hope to dream of their future mate.

Whatever it is you do this night, give a toast to the people who came before you. Everything you do comes from somewhere and was touched by many cultures intermingling and borrowing from one another. Ring in the year with one hand reaching back, and one hand reaching forward, as we carry on with the grave responsibility and wild revelry of being human.

  Photo credit: @edhogmanay showing the Edinburgh torch procession at Hogmanay.

Dreaming with Nature

The dreams were waking me up at night.  Black widows inside my home.  Black widows all over the ceiling.  Black widows building webs closer and closer to me.  No way out.  I am not particularly afraid of spiders, although I am cautious of black widows, having grown up in an old 1930s home.  I tried to reason out why I was having these nightmares.  I read about black widow symbolism.  I questioned my relationship to spider, web and venom.  For two weeks my nights were filled with the dark ladies.  Then, one morning, after other terrifying infestation dream, I opened my eyes and said aloud “It’s my bees.  There is a black widow inside my hive.”

It was my first year keeping bees, and at the time I did not know how common it was to find black widows and other eight-legged in or near a hive.  It makes sense: honeybees must be a real juicy meal.  I told the bees I’m coming, and dawned my gloves and veil.  Sure enough, she had taken residence in the back of the hive, fat and deadly.  The bees couldn’t expand their nest, and they were living with a predator.  The bees had let me know what was going on, and I finally got the message.  I was dreaming with bees.

This was my first experience of consciously experiencing communication from the natural world through dreams.  In an age where talk therapy is our chief modality for addressing emotional and mental states of unrest, dreams become entirely self-centered.  We defer to the modern day agreement, that dreams are our subconscious at best and the detritus of our day at worst.  Don’t get me wrong, I love and have benefited from talk therapy and the psychoanalysis of dreams.  I think both have a very useful and important place.  I would agree that many dreams are the product of our subconscious knocking about. But what if it’s not always our subconscious claiming a seat at the table?  What if Fox is knocking at the door with a wink and a swish of his tail?  What if Raven is keeping a steady eye on your dreamscape, daring you to ask her a question?  What if your ancestors, in their moon-white bones, are clattering around the house rearranging the furniture?  To get to the point, what if we are not just dreaming “of”, but dreaming “with”?

I have dreamt with my bees since this first visit.  Sometimes they heal me.  Sometimes they cover me with honey.  Sometimes with sting. Sometimes they share things that are about me, and sometimes they are about the bees.  I had a hive visit my dreams and inform me of it’s passing shortly before it died.  I had another black widow dream and once again, went looking and found the same.  Even disregarding my personal relationship to bees, is it so much to imagine that the wild might be reaching in to touch us? From a shamanic perspective, dreams are a way to work directly with the spirit world.  What would the spirit world be without the language of the wild?  Nature is our interface with Spirit.  It is the color palate and Spirit is the hand the moves the brush.

"The Spring Witch" George Wilson - Creative Commons

When we invite the pad-footed spirit of the wild into our dreams we are asking to be worked.  As mythologist Martin Shaw says, we are being dreamt.  In my Dreaming with Bees course, I make it clear that we are not seeking to dream of bees. I am asking students to invite the bees into their dreams.  To dream with the bees.  Whether you dream of bees or not is a mute point. It is about the courtship with a nature ally, with a spirit and with a fellow living creature.  The living earth is dreaming her way into being, and we are dreaming with her.  If only we could break free of the ecological nightmare we’ve created and remember our body is her body.

People ask me all the time, what does dreaming have to do with beekeeping?  Why do you teach beekeeping and dreaming classes? The answer is this: whether we know it or not, when we set up a hive in our garden, become a player in it’s story, and share in it’s vital resources, we are seeking kinship.  Some conscious or not-so-conscious part of us is reaching out to a species that has been an enigmatic friend to mankind since prehistoric times.  A species that has never and will never be fully tamed.  A guardian at the gate to the wild.  An emissary between the worlds.  To know this creature, we have to do everything we can to break away from conventional beekeeping practices and the man-conquers-nature/woman mindset.  To do this, we must find the crooked, forgotten paths deep in the woods.  The ones that twist out of sight and have no guaranteed destination.  These are the paths of our animal memory.  Our ancestral memory.  Our indigenous selves.  The observer. The shaman. The Seer. The Dreamer.  The Wise Woman.  The other ways of knowing.  The ways that speak in pine groves, antlered visitors, ocher and sun on bare skin.  We dream with bees, because we are dreaming ourselves back home.

Dreaming with Bees Summer Session Tele-conference course begins Monday August 7, from 5-7pm PST