Solstice Algorithm
Where the bees thrum, jamming with words, & cross-pollinating old-school style!
When I cross-pollinate, I gather from here & there sniffing, zig-zagging, following my instinct. Is this winding journey important? What if I let a machine do my bumbling journey for me?
Today as I walked out into my day, cool and cloudy, I noticed the dreaded trumpet weed, surely grateful for all the rain, flourishing everywhere I went. I recalled a post written by a fellow storyteller and nature connection mentor, Danny English, that I had read on the socials early that morning about the very same plant and the mysterious insect that depends entirely on it. I’ll share more about it below.
We are all connected.
And, while the online algorithms seem to rule the roost these days, sometimes we forget that a more ancient network of firing impulses, reflexes, biological instincts, unseen forces, bee-lines and song lines is activated simply by our attention and our awe.
Forget generative ai, remember awe-struck inter-connectedness!
And so here, on Summer Solstice in the Northern Hemisphere, where the bees thrum in the Ocean Spray, I jam a little with words, and cross-pollinate old-school style! Thanks for joining me.
“amidst the chaos
despite the catastrophe
behold the solstice”
remembrance reminder: where we gaze our attention is the qi. the key. the power. this is not to say ignore or lose awareness. we simply hold our heart-centered focus on the balance, the beauty, the goodness for which we are here.
~<3 rev dav
(c) 6/21/25
Summer Solstice Blessings!
Owl and The Moon on Facebook shared this glorious image and a poem by Carol Ann Duffy, “Virgil’s Bees” from “The Bees”. I give you just a piece here to consider. Are we the nee keepers, those who cherish the magic of pollination? Are we humans the bread makers who cherish the wild yeast? Are we the poets and map-makers who cherish the shape of the land?
“Bless the beekeeper
who chooses for her hives
a site near water, violet beds, no yew,
no echo. Let the light lilt, leak, green
or gold, pigment for queens,
and joy be inexplicable but there
in harmony of willowherb and stream,
of summer heat and breeze,
each bee's body
at its brilliant flower, lover-stunned,
strumming on fragrance, smitten.”
Solstice Algorithm
Let gardens grow where beelines end
Where forgotten streams
Meander below concrete
Let gardens grow from the compost heap
Where our dead release their carbon and seeds
Let gardens grow in spite of terror
Lest we forget the precious
Life Beauty
Where the bees thrum
Where the tree of life stretches
Between Winter roots
Deep in mycelium and aquifer
And it’s highest branches
Green canopy reaching
To the Summer sun
Oh Solstice Algorithm
Where the rains fill
Ancient springs and the snow
Forms crystals of genius
Where the old hag North Wind
Whispers secrets
To the glowing Summer breeze of a lass
Passing her hazel nuts and sweet delights
Where the ancient waters thrum
Let cultures grow where song lines go
Where forgotten threads
Weave below the flattened world
Let art grow from the bones and stones
Where our dead carry their memory
Let us get mucky there
Clearing the streams
Leaving work early to
Join our young climbing trees
Let us kneel there
Where the dirt gives us heart berries
And the poppies open their blood-red
Skirts to to the whispers of wind in the listening sky
Where the crumbling world
Cries for beauty, and tending
And regeneration
Where the tree of life stretches
Across the great hoop
Like Salmon and Eel, returning
Returning
Let us hold these opposites
Tension, mycelial web, song line,
Keepers of the Ways and Wells
Where the bees thrum
Solstice Algorithm
Belinda White
This word jam came while pondering the utter intensity of bloom and berry that spreads across the land at this time of year in the Northern hemisphere - this and the various posts, artwork, and podcasts that rose (through the online algorithms) to my attention! My drawing above and my recent journey with my father, witnessing the cycles of giving and receiving between elder and youth, dying and growing, and the story that inspired it also fed this creative stream. That’s how it goes. This is the Solstice algorythm
What does Creator, vast force of the universe, want us to know during these times where pain, horror, fear, and loss can lead our attention into the abyss or a frozen lake? These times where the speed, convenience, and distraction of tech pull us away from our kinship with creation? What is this attention and awe for? How do we cultivate it?
Forgotten Water Ways
On a beautiful, much needed rainy day a couple of days ago, I pondered the waters and the water ways, the many streams buried below the city where I live, Vancouver, BC Canada, a guest on these xʷməθkʷəy̓əm (Musqueam), Sḵwx̱wú7mesh (Squamish), and səlilwətaɬ (Tsleil-Waututh) Lands.
I know just a little about the vast network of streams and rivers and estuary that once fed the ocean and rich coastal life here and the peoples that have lived here in reciprocity. I call it up, in my imagination - what it must have looked, sounded, smelt like with the long grasses and reeds, the Salmon in brackish waters, Bear and Eagle abundant. How easy it is to forget, to erase, or fail to describe the Real: in this case essential waterways.
I know more about the Thames that Caroline Ross describes in her piece at The Dark Mountain Project and the old folklore of the Keepers of the Wells that she tells us of, for that is where I was born, and where some of my ancestors hail from.
I know a lot about the disorientation and forgetfulness that comes from road maps crowding out waterways as she describes. And how Google maps obliterates our own navigational skills, stealing our ‘song lines’, and the terrifying loss of that relationship with the Real, that ‘flattening effect of the machine mindset’ as carol describes it. With the advent of digital and ai tech its even worse…
Today, wherever you are on the Earth, in the Northern or Southern hemispheres as we stand shimmering at Summer or Winter Solstice, I urge you to pause and imagine that great pole between the two, that great World Tree that joins the sky with the deep roots, and be like the waters, traveling down below the concrete, into the forgotten waterways, the underground streams, ancient Springs, wander through hills, down to the ocean, be like water, feel the shape of the earth under you, and connect everything, quench the thirst of all, bring life to the land. Be like River and Salmon and Eel and the Trees that know the old secrets of regeneration and return. Be like those that can hold the tension of opposites: Winter and Summer, Death and Birth, Horror and Beauty.
I couldn’t have asked for a more wonderful piece to listen to and hope you will join me.
Become a part of the tribe who sees the connections in everything
“When you google ‘Bindweed’ the top answer is, ‘how do I get rid of bindweed’. It’s a plant that has been vilified by gardeners and land owners for decades, yet if it was sold in garden centers everybody would buy it as the beautiful trumpet like white flowers are strikingly breathtaking, as is the White Plume Moth. This stunning feathery creature that looks otherworldly, depends entirely on bindweed as a nursery for its larvae so eradicating Bindweed also means destroying this magical being. In a world that seems permanently determined to ignore the interconnected nature of all things and tries to eradicate that which isn’t understood, become a part of the tribe who sees the connections in everything and makes space for beauty to blossom.”
An Old Tale to Chew On
My friend Davida shared an old tale about Summer Solstice she learned from—Kanipawit Maskwa, John Gonzalez, Standing Bear Network.
The old stories are like fatty seeds, they store well, and carry rich nutrition in small packets!
“Long ago, before the names of months were written down, the people watched the sky to tell time. They didn’t need calendars—just the language of the stars, the shape of the moon, and the way the sun moved across the sky. One morning, an old man named Mînamêw….”
Here is a piece of it for your chewing, your listening, and slow turning in your hands. Old man Mînamêw has taken the children up high on a hill to watch the Summer Solstice Sun rise…
“Something strange happened.
It didn’t rush up like usual. It rose slowly—stretching its arms across the sky, lighting every tree, every insect wing, every drop of river mist with a glow that felt ancient.
The children grew quiet. Even the wind sat down beside them.
After a while, one of them whispered, “Is the sun really standing still?”
Mînamêw nodded. “Just for a moment. Long enough for the earth to catch her breath. Long enough for us to remember.”
“Remember what?”
He looked at them with eyes full of sunrise. “That we belong to something much older than worry. Much bigger than fear. That even light must pause to listen.”
And in that stillness, they heard it.
The flutter of wings.
The far-off echo of a loon.
The heartbeat of the land, steady and true.”
Courage
And, I guess it’s time now that I wrap this wee bundle of gifts heavy with pollen. These words from Richard Wagamese book Embers that have reminded me many times of the incredible community that has grown from our times together at Firemaker Gathering. I can’t wait to return again this July!
These words, like a blanket, will do the wrapping job well. Courage my friends, courage.
“You can’t test your courage timidly. You have to run through the fire, arms waving, legs pumping and heart beating wildly with the effort of reclaiming something vital, lost, laid aside or just plain forgotten. When you do that, you discover that we shine most brightly in community, the whole bedraggled, worn, frayed and tattered lot of us, bound together forever by a shared courage, a family forged in the heat of Ernest struggle.”
Thank you for reading my friends. Blessings on this Solstice time!!
“That we belong to something much older than worry. Much bigger than fear. That even light must pause to listen.”
In Memory and love of my Father, Michael White, and his deep, bass-booming voice and profound love of nature! I love you, dad.