Thirty days hath September… We all know the rhyme to remind us which days have 30 and which have 31 but it also seems as though January lasts for at least 57 days every year.
We all got paid before Christmas which felt great at the time but means it is even longer until payday.
Everyone is back to work and school, the weather is rubbish and we’re either doing dry January or Veganuary, cursing ourselves for signing up to achieve 50,000 steps a day in a burst of ‘new year, new you’ enthusiasm or still battling through the last of the festive cheese and strawberry creams which no-one else likes in the never ending tins of Quality Street which are still kicking around.
For many, many years, once my very early January birthday was over with, I felt there was nothing left to look forward to until next Christmas.
Then I moved to Scotland and discovered my new favourite event of the year - Burns Night - a true celebration of all things to do with my adopted homeland.
The poetry of Rabbie Burns is celebratory of excess, truly recognising all that is wonderful with the world, particularly Scotland, able to be declaimed in a meaningful manner with ceremony and hushed tones or set to music and sung loudly with accompanying foot stomping and many a dram.
It is marked with gatherings in deepest darkest January with haggis, swords and whisky.
As I write this month’s column, there is much to be sat and struggled with. Times are bleak, futures are uncertain and we head into another year where all time records are broken for all the wrong reasons - things we are powerless to control and yet affect us profoundly.
And yet, in these times we are also able to harness that Burns Night energy and everything it stands for.
Creativity - in poetry and song, in dance and in decoration. In expression and putting pen to paper and throwing our thoughts and feelings out into the world to be shared and rejoiced in.
Feasting - the traditional Burns Supper - haggis, neeps and tatties, cranachan and drams reminds us to indulge, enjoy and relish the food from the land and to appreciate the nourishment and deliciousness of good food, cooked well and enjoyed in great company.
Community - the best Burns Supper celebrations I have attended have been those which are a coming together of people - friends, family, community and more importantly the inclusion of whoever is close to the table. This time of year often sees stranded strangers joining the table and this is an even greater cause for celebration - to extend the hand of Highland hospitality to everyone who happens to be nearby.
Holding those close even closer - For me the ceremonies attached to Burns Night are so powerful. The Selkirk Grace reminds us to be thankful, toasts to the Lassies and Laddies gives a voice to everyone and ‘To A Mouse’ offers whatever we may take from it - from the subversive power of a wee beastie to the poignant notion of the best laid plans maybe never coming to fruition.
Regardless of what we interpret Burns’ poems to mean, we can doubtless all find something which speaks to us within his prolific works.
And if Burns Night does not offer you comfort in the deep dark depths of this longest of all months, at least know we are only days away from February and that month passes in a flash with spring arriving before we know it with the promise of new life, new hope and longer days ahead.
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