I go to quite a lot of festivals. Starwood is an annual event for me, and every June I’m forced to choose between two other favorites: Free Spirit and Wic-Can Fest. Over the years, I’ve attended many others, including Heartland, Rites of Spring, and Pagan Spirit Gathering.
In a very real way, festivals are how I mark my life.
In Bronze Age Ireland, the Pagan Celts gathered annually for a huge festival at Lughnasadh. Over the course of two weeks, contests were held (bardic, athletic, crafts), wares were sold, romances were begun, gossip was traded, and a sense of community was renewed for the coming year. In essence, this is what I feel modern Pagan festivals are. For all the workshops and classes and spiritual experiences, the essence, to me, is the establishment and renewal of community bonds.
I was 21 at my first festival. I got my first tattoo at Starwood. I met Isaac (my ex-husband) at Rites of Spring. I was pregnant at festivals, I nursed at festivals, and now I bring my teenager to festivals. It was at Starwood that I asked Isaac for a divorce. It was at Starwood that I had my first vision, and it was there that I injured my knee (twice).
It isn’t that what happens is good or bad. It’s that what happens is my life. Marked by the passage of seasons, and supported within the arms of my community. That’s festival.
