Celebrating solstice

The sun cleared the sky above us just in time for us to gather in our orchard to share some food, shoot the bull, telling three truths and a lie, and began folding those 1,000 cups with friends. We invited six friends, three could come. We had a lot of fun and found at least three truths for every lie. Pete came up with the great idea of cutting up parts of an old United States atlas. He's a dumpster diver, and I think, quite proud of his knack for recycling. Five of us sat around the picnic table and said stuff like, "I'll take O'ahu. Did they include us in that atlas even though we'd rather not be?" Oh yeah, there it was. Pete cut a square to include my old valley. I folded. Pete found Sheboygan and cut and folded.  One of our friends is Brit-born and another a Southerner, the jokes that circulated when the Brit heard the name "Sheboygan" pronounced "She-a-boy-again" got a cackle of laughter from my lesbian pals.

We learned to make the simple five folds to make a paper cup, found New Yorker Magazine pages that were brightly colored or littered with satire. We folded cups and told stories deep; revealed other stories of our journeys thus far; assisted with praise as we ooohhed and ahhhed at the artistry of a new photo album created for parents. The sun stayed with us on Solstice, and dozens of them paper cups dangle from safety pins off a metal clothes hanger. Simple solstice ritual enjoyed and passed along.

"What're you going to do when you get a 1,000," one of our friends asked.

Over the top her glasses and without losing concentration from the fold another friend answered, "It's a meditation not a marathon."

Happy Solstice.