Belisama

As the Sun crowns the year

and stands in sovereign stillness

above the green world.

We arrive at the threshold of Midsummer.

A moment stitched in golden thread

across the tapestry of myth,

memory,

and sacred time.

It is the hour of fire and bloom,

of ripening fruits

and whispered prayers

in fields heavy with light.

In the ancient calendars,

this solstice was never just a mark of the longest day,

but a holy gate:

a turning point

where the veils thin,

the gods draw near,

and the earth speaks

with more than its usual voice.

So we say:

May your deities come to you as you honor the season’s tide.

In whatever form they wear.

Sun-burnished faces of the old gods,

the green-robed spirits of grove and river,

or the ancestral presence walking quietly beside you.

May you feel them closer now,

as you light your fires

or stand beneath the open sky.

May your Midsummer be golden with prosperity and healing.

Not only the wealth that fills baskets and stores,

but the quieter,

deeper kind:

the mending of heartlines,

the return of clarity,

the warmth that comes

from being seen and known

by something greater than yourself.

May you and your path be blessed.

Whatever road you walk.

Wild or worn, crooked or clear.

May this season infuse it with radiance.

Let your steps be rooted.

Let your spirit remember what it is to dance in rhythm with the sun.

Midsummer is not only a celebration.

It is a remembering.

A remembering

of what it means to live in harmony with the land,

the sky,

and the stories that shaped us.

To honor the light,

not only outside us,

but within;

and to let it guide the next turning of the wheel.

So, blessed be your Midsummer.

May it find you whole.

May it leave you luminous.

Yo lo Creo/

I believe and so, it is