My dear friend Chasmodai wrote this several years ago and we read it every year as part of our family Yule celebration. At SpiralScouts yesterday, we had the older kids read it to the younger kids and then they all sang, "Joy to the World, the Sun Returns..." *sniff* I hope you all enjoy!
THE STORY OF THE YULE LOG
By Chasmodai
Long, long ago, when our people could remember the days when Mother
Earth never lost her blanket of snow and ice, we were more connected
to her than we are now. We had no computers, no cell
phones, no airplanes or radios, no cars or microwave ovens. This was
in the days before the fall of the Roman Empire, even before King
Arthur.
These were the days when everything we wore, and everything we ate,
and all that we used to shelter ourselves was gathered with our
hands, made with our hands, or killed with our hands.
In those days we depended upon each other as a community, not just
for the pleasure of social activities but for our survival. Everyone
in our community contributed for the benefit of the whole. If one in
our group was sick, we pitched in and helped him until he was well,
knowing that one day he might do the same for one of us. We protected
one another, watched out for each other, and shared with one another.
Every spring, the new green shoots came out, and the new baby animals
were born, and these things meant our survival. As the days grew
longer and warmer, and Father Sun grew brighter, the green things
matured and the fruit ripened. Gradually, the plants began to die as
the days grew shorter and the nights longer and cooler. We gathered
what we could of the last of the plants and stored them for the long,
dangerous days ahead. Soon, Father Sun began to seem weaker and
further away, and we knew that he was dying as he did every year. The
days became short and the nights long and cold. This was the time of
year that those of us who were sick, old, or weak were the most
likely to die. We clung to one another, depending on each other for
survival more than ever.
We knew that after Father Sun died, Mother Earth would deliver us a
newborn baby Sun. Gradually our Sun King would grow stronger and
brighter, until the days were longer and warmer again, and once again
the new green shoots would return.
But some of us were fearful. We had seen some of the women among us
die in childbirth, and we saw babies born dead, or worse, born weak
and destined to die shortly after birth. Some of our winters were
very harsh and spring was late. A weak baby Sun could make survival
difficult.
Fortunately, there were Wise Ones among us. Our Wise Ones understood
many things that were mysterious to the rest of us. They could help
women in childbirth and predict the weather. They could brew
medicines that would help us when we were sick and weak. They
engraved strange symbols on rock and wood, and only they understood
what these symbols meant.
So we went to our Wise Ones, and we requested they help us help
Mother Earth bring the newborn baby Sun into our world. We told them
of our concerns, and they agreed to help.
They said we should build a huge fire, the greatest fire Mother Earth
has ever seen. The fire would melt the snow and ice, and help our
Mother with what she had to do. We would tend the fire all night and
day, until Mother Earth brings the baby Sun into the world.
Our Wise Ones were indeed wise. They knew that we had to give up
something to get something, and that asking for something was the
first step toward receiving it. So they showed us how to throw grain
into the fire, in order to ask for a year of abundance. They looked
into the flames and saw the future of our group. As we danced around
the fire, we rejoiced, because the warmth of the fire felt like the
warmth of Father Sun, and this gave us hope.
For twelve days and nights we tended the fire, and on the twelfth
day, the newborn Baby Sun rose. And again we rejoiced and sang. Soon
our Sun King grew strong and warm, and as Mother Earth grew warmer
the green plants began to grow. And every year after that we burned
the fire at Midwinter, which came to be known as the Yule fire.
For many thousands of years, we celebrated the Yule fire. As time
passed, we learned to grow crops and raise livestock, so we no longer
depended so much on the hunt and on gathering. Our dependence on each
other became less pronounced, less essential. But we continued to
burn the Yule fire each year. Because we retained a sense of
community, the Yule log had to be a gift from a neighbor – not bought
or sold, or else it was not lucky. And because we valued hospitality,
when the Yule log was brought into the house, it was sprinkled with
our finest meade or ale, as we would give an honored guest. We
adorned it with evergreens, because the evergreen symbolized eternal
life. And we kept a piece of it from the fire, to bring good luck to
the house throughout the year. Because we valued the passing of
tradition to each new generation, we used the piece from the previous
year to light the next year's fire.
Gradually, there were changes over the years, and we were encouraged
to discard our old ways for new. And when many of us came to the New
World, we left our old ways behind. Later, modern technology
separated us further from our old ways and our Mother Earth. For
some, today's Yule log is nothing more than a chocolate pastry,
rolled and decorated to look like a piece of wood. They eat the
pastry but they don't remember its significance.
But, we remember. We remember.
