The first new year belongs to the Good Earth and the Deep Waters, as we go down into the darkness and leave behind the previous year and its sorrows and its challenges. In my house, this means roast pork with apples and supper with the dead, and then journeying forth in the dark to a liminal space to prepare for First New Year.
We sit awake in vigil for the New Year, burning bonfires of creativity, armed with words and caffeine. We await the stroke of midnight so we can dive into new projects for the new year. So begins the month long festival of First New Year, called National Novel Writing Month. Portlandia's overnight celebration is at the airport, a lovely liminal space with lots of available outlets and 24 hour coffee. At midnight we will launch into the attempt to write a novel in 30 days.
Hail to the Lady of the Good Earth! Hail to the Serpent of the Deep Waters! Hail to the dead gone down, and the dying year with them! Hail to the new year, and all that grows with it!