The Three Winter Solstices of 2023

On the creation of new rituals

I’m strongly considering bringing a Rationalist Winter Solstice Celebration to Denver. We’ve been meeting regularly since 2015, and survived the COVID drought, yet still don’t do anything for Solstice or Petrov Day.¹ I have some personal connections in the DC, Philly, and San Francisco rat spheres, and this year the DC, NYC, and SF Solstice Celebrations were on three consecutive weekends. I resolved to go to all three to take notes and get a feel for what to do. I packed my bags and booked some rooms.

DC

The DC head-rat comes from a Quaker upbringing, and rented out a Quaker Meeting House for their ceremony.

This is a stock photo, not a photo of the event. But it looked very similar.

The aesthetic choice was perfect. This was a simple frontier church, something you would expect to see on the plains of the Old West. It felt like the gathering of a small community of people exploring unknown lands, making do without much in material resources, keeping things simple and sincere.

Which is exactly what the rat scene in most places is. We don’t have enough numbers or money to fund a major program. We don’t have any long-standing institution and set of traditions to draw on. We are creating one for the generations that are coming after us. Our ideal move is to stay small and sincere, in groups where everyone knows everyone and we’re all trying out this thing together. A gathering in a simple hall, all facing each other, all on the same level, with a few dozen fellow seekers… this is how traditions start.

The speeches/readings between songs were perfectly timed (300-600 words), and felt like semi-formal sharings of a sentiment. Despite not having a few hundred voices to hide my own poor singing in, this was the service where I felt most encouraged to sing along. It felt like we were doing this thing together. For a group trying out something new, that’s very important.

This is also the service that reduced me to legit crying. It did it with a short true story about a brave dog in space, followed by two songs that are parody but heartfelt. The breaking down of barriers with humor allowed a direct march into my heart and wrenched real emotion out without a chance for resistance.

Creating new ritual has a lot of inherent cringe-risk, especially in spaces where we all know there is no such thing as magic. We explicitly know we’re trying to tap into a greater group identity, but we don’t have an existing greater institution to solidify that. Isn’t that silly? Yes, yes it is. We can be silly. It’s fun and reinforces that we can all trust each other enough to be silly around each other. If we can all be goofs here, maybe we can all try out something a little weird together between the goofs without triggering a defensive cringe. And while we’re bring goofy and weird and clowning around, we’re sneaking in some love and some bonds. The jester can always say and do things that no priest or advisor could.

I think I’m the type of person that needs a god that laughs. This is not for everyone. But it’s good for exploration.

Anyway, the DC Solstice was the one that felt most true to my heart. Deep serious solemnity is a luxury that a generation raised with these traditions from birth can experience. It’s solemn because you remember it from childhood, when Importance is transmitted through the parent. Those of us that didn’t get the Importance transfusion from the god of children, making it from scratch ourselves, will always know where the janky bits are covered over with paper and paint. That is OK, we knew we wouldn’t see the finished cathedral when we started this. If we make a small space were we can be comfortable without cringing, our children will be able to take it further and deeper.

NYC

The NYC Solstice was larger, and less emotionally impactful. I appreciate greatly the effort that went into producing it, but it felt a bit impersonal to me. It was held in a university auditorium with rows of seats facing a stage, which broke the “cozy, camaraderie” feel. It felt more akin to a production than a collaboration.

I think this is an unfortunate effect of being too large for a DC-style pioneer gathering, but too small for a SF-style Major Event. The in-between spot can’t do either but hasn’t found a place to comfortably inhabit.

Three things I picked up:

1. Explicitly telling everyone “No applause, we aren’t performing for you, we’re all doing this together for each other” actually does help quite a bit! Applause is a barrier, a delineation before performer and receiver, and it should be rejected outright.

2. A break for intermission is a bad idea. You cannot disrupt the flow of a ritual with a ten minute pause while the lights come up and people rush off to pee and check their phones. It destroy the build up of emotion and expectation.

3. Direct audience-participation is really good, and may be the key to bridging the space between DC and SF. A seven-year old was in attendance, and several times made a comment loud enough to be overheard by all, or responded directly to something happening on stage, and this was absolutely perfect. It reminded me that Renaissance Faires have many delightful and moving performances with audiences in the 100-200 people range, and a major aspect of all those shows is audience participation. Addressing the audience directly, prompting silly chants, doing call-and-response, that sort of thing. It takes skill to pull it off, but it’s a lot of fun, and kids love it. And as we all know, ultimately all holidays are for the kids anyway. (And the kids-at-heart)

SF

This year SF had to move to a larger venue, as demand for seats had outstripped what the planetarium could provide. The new venue was an excellent choice, the wrap-around stadium seating provided great views for everyone while still feeling welcoming, and the wood siding on the walls felt homey.

Similar to last year (my first Rat Solstice), everything was extremely polished. It felt like the well-rehearsed ritual a long-standing church would put on. The choir was amazing, the speakers were composed and energetic, and the music was flawless. Raymond Arnold’s leading of Five Thousand Years was particularly passionate. This wasn’t a weird thing some weird people are trying, it was a legit Major Event.

I don’t think there’s much for me to pull from the SF ritual, because it’s so far from what we’ll be able to do in Denver. But it does show what is possible, and gives us concrete goals to aim for in future decades. :) And, of course, it set the template for all descendant events.

Changes From Last Year

I’ve only gone to one prior year, so I don’t really have a basis to say how things are changing. However I can at least compare last year to this year. The tonal shift was dramatic IMO. Last year was the year we all realized we are now (likely) in humanity’s end game. Everyone was distressed and borderline panicked. Scott Alexander did a fantastic job of guiding us through the shock of this communal revelation by addressing the angst directly. This did necessitate a lot of Confronting The Darkness.

I don’t know if it was an unusual year and this year was a reversion to the mean, or if all previous years had a deeper, complicated relationship with existential dread. I had assumed the Dusk→Night→Despair→Dawn cycle was deeply ingrained and the primary focus of the Solstice Ritual. This year was a distinct shift into minimizing that aspect of the Solstice.

The newest iteration of the ritual added several sections. Bonfire was added to the start, Dusk was renamed Embers, and after Dawn there was a full Day section and then a Tomorrow section. While there was still the descent into darkness, it was comparatively much less of the full program, and had significantly reduced time and emotional focus.

Last year’s format was more emotionally intense, which is something I often seek out. But a community ritual isn’t necessarily there to give intense emotional experiences. Those should be sought out by people who want them and are ready for them. A community ritual that is intended for all comers, those of all ages, guests and first-timers… that sort of ritual needs to focus on uplift and good feelings. It needs to touch on the despair, yes. It’s vital, it reminds us why we’re here. But it is presented, accepted, and then moved past. The expanded ritual is, for lack of a better phrase, more Hufflepuff. All communities are built by Hufflepuffs, so this is good. It’s still an entirely Rationalist ritual fully dedicated to Rationalist interests. It’s just brighter now.

I’m interested to see if the ritual keeps changing over the years, always adapting to the needs of those who are served by it. Very possibly everyone decided this year that they were done fretting. If the world ends that is terrible, but it’s bad to make our years of still being alive even more terrible by focusing on that rather than the wonder and love around us. We will make the best use of the time we do have while we have it. The gloom grants us nothing, we embrace joy.

Maybe next year we’ll all need to be embracing bunny rabbits or learning French or something, I don’t know. The world is weird. It’s good to be agile.

1. I think this is my fault. I just recently realized that people consider me to be leading the Denver Rat Scene, and I had a strong allergy to ritual for many years due to my early experiences as a Jehovah’s Witness apostate.