At Stonhenge on Solstice the sun crested over softly arching hills, struck the blue-hued Heelstone, and drove its light between the arches of the great trilithon. Hundreds were there in dreadlocks and druid robes, smelling of travel and patchouli, trying to name something unnamable, making it up as they go along. Isn’t that what we all do? Cobble something together from shards of history and intuitive pull? Look for the meeting point between what we know and what we hope to be true?

I was at Stonehenge not long ago, fresh from the opulence of Europe’s finest cathedrals, ready to be unimpressed by a ring of stones surrounded by security fencing. I was surprised to find such holiness there, walking in a round where people have paced for thousands of years; waiting for the shard of light to crack the sky; hoping for a life continued. I followed the tour and when I reached the Heelstone, paused to touch its side. As I felt the warmth of the sarsen stone under my hand, I noticed a young woman walking counter clockwise to the organized tour, her shoes in her hand, her feet on holy ground. Seeing her example, I wanted suddenly to sink to my knees. It was all I could to do still my voice, to not incant ‘Holy, Holy, Holy.’ But I was unaccustomed to being a stranger in a strange land for so many long months, worn down from always sticking out, from always being obvious. I did not have the confidence to kneel in front of so many tourists in windbreakers and cameras. (Who knew the bending of the knee could be an act requiring so much strength?) Instead I stayed my hand on the stone, leaned my weight into my palm, and let my soul pour out thanks. Gratitude for the light. Gratitude for continuance. Gratitude for all that we need to go on.

The Solstices -- both Summer and Winter--are amongst my favorite celebrations of the sacred year. The welcoming the light's return (Winter) and celebrating it's long, glowing zenith (Summer) are so rich with metaphor they capture many a seeker's heart. In our community, we've celebrated it various ways over the years: chalking out blessings on the sidewalks near our home; crafting lamps to bring light to our neighbors; serving our local parade by festively cleaning up trash and recycling; dancing in the sun and feasting by the firelight; and always by offering each other this Celtic blessing (more on the blessing here):

May the blessing of light be upon you –
Light without and light within.
May the blessed sunlight shine on you like a great fire,
So that stranger and friend may come and warm themselves at it.

And may light shine out of the two eyes of you,
Like a candle set in the window of a house,
Bidding the wanderer to come in out of the storm.

This year Carla B. at Zena Musings celebrates her turn round the single-married-single circle with a garden-full of blessings and song.

Kellementology allows herself to bathe in the light and anchor her year in hope:

And when I look at that horizon tonight, clouds or no clouds, I know that I will be thinking more about what lies ahead instead of what has passed.  I know that I will wonder about it with anticipation, and not dread, or fear.  I know that I will feel opportunity and possibility, because that’s who I am.

While Kelly at Dragonfly Reflections turns to Keri Smith and Wreck this Journal to let go of the past.

LilMel at Random Ramblings has some wiccanish tips for celebration at her place.

Finally, Monique at Living in the Light I Find reminds us on this celebration of light, that ying goes with yang and sun goes with moon:

It's good to be reminded of balance and counter-balance, and that even when things are not tangibly equal in our lives, they are being balanced still.

How do you celebrate the Summer Solstice? Mark your astrological calendars for next year when the longest day of the year falls on June 20th.

Rachelle Mee-Chapman blogs at Magpie Girl. Get blog post updates by following her on Twitter.