How to Find Magic Around the Edges
Finding echoes of ancient magic all around
Hello,
A very Happy Summer Solstice to you all! I hope you find some time today to soak up some of that ancient Solar magic.
I thought I’d send you a post from the archives today. This was one of the first things I ever posted on here. I started my Substack newsletter a year ago with a grand total of 0 subscribers, so most of my early posts were a little unloved, to say the least. In fact I didn’t even send out the first few newsletters I wrote as I had no one to send them to! But happily, a year later, there are a few more of you here now which I’m very grateful for.
So I thought I would resend this post to you today as a little Solstice read for you on this day of light and warmth.
Have a great day,
Vicky xx
Finding Magic Around the Edges
When you have small children you have to get used to the idea of working to a slightly different timetable (theirs!) and potentially missing out on some of the things your life was previously shaped around. Late nights, meeting up spontaneously with friends or staying up all night, for example, do not fit well with naps, bath times and toddler bedtimes.
Take the Summer Solstice. When I was researching and writing my Solstice post I really enjoyed putting together some ideas of how to celebrate it at home. These were all along the lines of staying up all night to watch the sun rise on Solstice dawn, sharing drinks and a meal with friends and feasting around a bonfire after dark. All things I've enjoyed in the past, but that aren’t possible at this point in my life.
But like anything to do with parenting, what I found instead was a slightly different path. And I actually had the most magical solstice without doing any of the staying-up-late or watching-the-dawn bits. Because although we weren’t able to watch the Solstice sunrise or sunset, what we did find was all the magic around the edges instead.
For the past week I've been in St Ives, in Cornwall, (not the one in East Anglia which google maps always defaults to and is lovely, but not quite the same) and I can think of no more magical place to spend the Solstice week. During our week there the spirit of midsummer was all around us. Everywhere we looked the found signs of magic and evidence of celebrations.
But instead of being at the heart of the celebrations on Solstice night, we were on the corners and edges of the Solstice gatherings and as a result the week was sprinkled with small clues and signs of Solstice magic that we collected and treasured like tiny sea shells.
In the run up to the Solstice we spent the days exploring rock pools, walking along the cliff top, dipping our toes in the cold, salty sea and generally relaxing into the magic of a town that is famous for its incredible light, creative atmosphere and turquoise waters.
As we played I talked to my son non-stop about the Solstice and Midsummer. For the most part he politely ignored me while destroying sandcastles with his little spade. But in retelling the stories out loud I started to feel the anticipation and magic of the build up to the day itself, and I relished the sense of anticipation that is sometimes as good, if not better than the actual event itself.
Because in talking about, and looking for, magic we found it everywhere that week.
On Solstice Eve we walked down the beach to say goodnight to the sea, and that night we fell asleep to the sound of the waves outside the window. The next morning we were up, not at dawn, but a little later and made our way down the beach where we had the sands almost entirely to ourselves. It was then that I had the strange sense of feeling the energy of the Solstice around us. Because although the beach was empty and pristine, there had definitely been gatherings and celebrations on the beach overnight, and some of that magic still lingered for us to find.
It was there in the ancient rocks that circled the beach, cool and mysterious in the morning light and it was there also in the soft, gold sand underfoot, already warming up in the early Solstice sun. Both had witnessed countless Solstices before this one and carried a faint but definite echo of them.
As we stepped down to the sand we found a little circle of stones, arranged in the shape of a tiny, coastal Stonehenge, casting shadows in the bright morning sun and circling a perfect small feather. It wasn't there the night before, so it must have been built overnight by Solstice revellers, then left for the tide to take the next day. This glimpse into a secret celebration added to the sense of knowing that Solstice magic was happening all around us even if we couldn't see it.
It also felt like a celebration that could have been a day old or a century old. In response, we made our own Solstice circle nearby out of small shells and left it for someone else to find or for the sea to take.
Another thing I had wanted to do was have a dawn Solstice swim, but due to the timings of the day and the tiredness of my toddler, I realised it wasn't going to work. Instead, as the sun rose higher in the sky, I stood in the shallows and picked up my son who had declared the sea was 'too cold' to paddle in. And as I held him, he fell into a dreamlike trance on my shoulder, lulled almost to sleep by the sound of the waves and the gentle warmth of the sun, something he hadn't done since he was a tiny baby.
We stood there for a long time, just the two of us, absorbing the stillness and peace of the sea and it felt like the sun and the sand and the water were in perfect harmony, soothing and peaceful, performing at their beautiful best, just for us to enjoy. It was one of the best Solstice moments I've ever experienced.
As for the swim, the next evening we walked down to the sea after dinner and it was gentle, calm and smooth, the high tide bringing the sea right up to the footpath, and creating a dark blue surface sprinkled with diamonds of evening sun. I was wearing my swimming costume under my clothes as I had been for most of the week (ever hopeful!) so I slipped into the water and turned to face the setting sun, gently floating in the cold, soft water, bathed in silver light, at the end of the most magical Solstice week.
When I finally stepped out, my son reached his arms up to me and we both stood and looked out over the sea and took in one last deep breath of salty summer Solstice air. 'Home now' he said, and home we went. Refreshed, revived and full of Solstice happiness.
Happy Solstice to you all. I hope you also find some midsummer magic sprinkled throughout your week.
Vicky xx
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Reading this made me feel so calm, and now I desperately want to go back to the seaside! Such a lovely piece 🐚
What incredibly beautiful solstice moments! It really is the tiny, simple little everyday ceremonies (😉) that bring the magic into our lives. Or, actually, that teach us to see and feel the magic that is already there. Thank you for this sweet and calming post, V. Happy Solstice! xo