Easter... Psych!!

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Easter Weekend.  What a bust.  Friday and Saturday were ablaze with hope and fury.  It seemed like Easter would be a fabulous day, and St John’s city council could be happy about our purely business decision of dumping Spring in favor of Summer.

I bought into the hope.  The bunny patrol even took me to bunny mansion.  Everything was bunnylicious.

Sunday: dreary Sunday–

I even trimmed my beard to spruce up. A group of us were going to see the sun as it rises over a diesel locomotive. It happens every Easter in Portland. Very Special. I missed the sustainable tree-house aerial ride-share tram at 5:30 AM, though.  The weather was hard to figure out in the dark of the morning.  Mostly wet.  Cold too.  Some wind.  I began to suspect that Summer was trying to have Winter cover his shift.

I find Easter a confusing holiday. It scampers around the calendar like a goat. Too much like Aries.  The local Portland custom is wet, with possible cold and wind.  As I waited for the ride-share that never came, I thought: Cold, wet and wind is weird for a kama’aina like me.  And what about weird local customs likefilipino crucifixionorswedish witches. Or weird global customs like Easter Egg hunts.

So what’s this deal? Egg hunts, unlike witches or crucifixion, have nothing to do with established Religious teachings.  Now I could go into some anti-religious rant as some others might do, but I’m not going to do that today.  However, if you ask, I can point you to wonderful mythological similarities.  One of my favorite writers on the subject isAchyara S.– a very knowledgable and thorough lady:  I wish she had a rich grandmother I could woo.

The truth is, that I like religions, and I want to go into a pro-religion rant.  I think they are beautiful viral creations of humanity which give thanks for our inexplicable existence.  All religious doctrine istotallyconflicted, and not entirely holy (come on, admit it, even the best have flaws) but is entirely filled with the goal of obtaining a holy personal union with God. Nowthatis worthy.

What’s not to love?  Maybe the Insufferable Righteousness and destruction, but as a goal, connection with a higher plane is a pretty good idea, and if mythos or ritual gets you there, showy or not, go for it.

So how is hunting for eggs part of God’s Plan? I dunno, I’m confused on that point, but I think it may be a great inducement for kids at the beginning of foraging season. Foraging had it’s big heyday in prehistoric times, but never really went completely out of fashion. Even now, you can get a Ph.D. inOptimal Foraging Theory.

More practically, scattering a few pretty-pretty things likely made modern, medieval, and prehistoric mommies’ lives easier by giving the kids a bit of fun to mix in with the otherwise continual work of inspecting nature for little tidbits of value. A kid that gets the most eggs might just be the kid that finds the most berries or herbs. And you don’t have to be a genius, just patient and persistent.

As the dawn breaks, and I realize I’m not going to see the St. John’s Fabled Sunrise through the wheels of a locomotive, my eyes see more of the foggy ground below:  indistinct– is that a snake or a hose? is that a foothold or a noose?  Donald Trump’s wig or a Molotov Suppository?

If the world is your oyster, you had better keep your eyes open.  That’s the essence of foraging.

Let us declare together this solemn oath: ( Congregation and Pastor) Easter is the Official Start of Prosperous Days and General Goodness.  (Pastor) Hopeful seekers: I give you Foraging Season. (Congregation): Foraging Season. (All): Easter.

Monday, April 25.

Rain. Drizzle.  Hail.  Winter is all over Easter’s wimpy hope and kicking some serious butt.  I get my usual psychic bodyguard, Southwick, to do the channelling mojo.

Me: "Oh Gracious, Celestial Spirit of the season, What has happened to our official prayer to Foraging Season?   We made it public and everything. Woooo. Woooo."

Winter: "Summer’s overworked.  He had to visit his Kids over in Cockaign.  Anyway, I’m Winter, and you don’t cut no slack from me.  Deal with it."

Me: "Hey, whassup with the hope and switch campaign?  Are you seasons running a presidency?" 

Winter: Stop it right there!  You tried to hire Foraging!  You can’t hire another Season!  You went to so much trouble to fire Spring and now you try this?! I’m dumping you back into February for a while and freeze your skinny butt.

Me: "OK, Spring, Umm.  It seems that there is an availability for a full-time temporary position for climate delivery in St. John’s.  You will have to supply all the resources: water, sunlight, air, etc, etc.  The position is available immediately, but if you don’t accept now, I’ll have to give it to Foraging Season."

Spring: "Beg me."

Me: "What?!"

Winter: "You heard her.  Beg or suffer the consequences of eternal February."

Me: "OK.  Spring, your most mercurial promises always take us by surprise.  We are surprised when you break your promise, and we are surprised when you keep your promise.  I St. John’s Jim, humbly beg you to return to your old job."

Spring: "Well, yes.  In a couple of days. Maybe. I promise."

– Spring: Can’t live with it, cant live without it.

that's all--