Some rituals to see in midwinter

Plus thoughts on the new Rachel Cusk.

Hello! I’m Celine and I write about books, cooking, gardening and surviving life in the city, when you have a wild heart. Subscribe for free posts like this one, or join the community for other exclusive writing. Either way, thanks for your support!

Dear Reader,

Time has a habit of marching on relentlessly and here we are, almost in midwinter. If you’re living ‘Down Under’, that is.

I’ve written before about the need to create modern day rituals and the markers of the season are a great place to start. Rituals connect us to place, to the other beings around us and to self, which are all pretty great things.

Here are some you can use to see in the midwinter.

Take a nudie swim/go wild swimming

One of the biggest regrets of my life is from attending Dark Mofo in Tasmania a few years ago, but failing to participate in the nude solstice swim. Oh well. If you’re within cooee of a deserted beach in the early am, perhaps you can take a crack at flashing your crack. Or go wild swimming in your nearest waterhole, cozzie intact.

Make mandarin candles

A cute one for my zero waste boys and girlies out there. All you need is a mandarin and some oil. You eat the delicious inner fruit, save the skin for your candle and then after, you can repurpose it as a fire starter.

Bonfire it up

I’m moving house this week and one of the things I’m most excited about in my new place, is the backyard. It’s nice and I see us potentially investing in an outdoor firepit. There’s something so primal about fire, and a bonfire is an excellent way to keep warm during the shortest day of the year. Even better if you light it yourself, using fire by friction (something I’m learning how to do myself – more on this soon).

Light a candle with intention

If you can’t light a fire, stick with a candle instead. Perhaps you can stare lovingly into the flame and set an intention for the rest of the year?

Take a hot bath with yuzu fruit

There are times where this publication tips dangerously into being a wellness blog, and perhaps this is one of those moments. But anyway. Yuzu is a citrusy fruit that is originally from China, and if you’re able to get your hands on some, you can take part in a Japanese solstice tradition of taking a yuzu-infused soak in the bath. It’s said to have health benefits, in that it relaxes the body and perhaps ward off colds, flus and other winter illnesses (nb: not to taken as any kind of medical advice).

Fill up your bathtub and add the whole fruits; either loose bobbing for apples style, or inside a mesh bag. If this seems weird, you can slice them in half before adding to the water.

A spot of moontanning perhaps, to see in midyear?

Bathe in the light of the moon

It’s a full moon on the 22nd. If the skies are clear, perhaps you can soak up some of its rays? You don’t get them every day, after all.

Bow to and/or cuddle a tree

Trees are pretty cool. They look nice, they give us shade, they provide homes for birds, animals and insects and they’re the reason we can breathe. All good things, wouldn’t you agree? So, take the opportunity this solstice to show them some gratitude. Find your favourite tree, bow to it and give it a great big cuddle.

Make mulled wine/tea

A particularly good one to pair with the aforementioned bonfire. Make some delicious mulled wine, or if you don’t drink alcohol, tea.

Here’s a recipe, shared by a peer.

What you need

• 3 cups of festive black tea or chai tea.

• OPTIONAL: 1 bottle of inexpensive dry red wine

• ¼ cup sugar, maple syrup, or honey to taste

• 2 cinnamon sticks

• 2 tsp whole cloves

• 8 cardamom pods

• 2 star anise

• ground nutmeg

• 1 orange (sliced)

• additional orange slices and cinnamon sticks to garnish.

What you need to do

1. Brew the tea leaves.

2. Simmer in a large saucepan with your sweetener of choice and all other ingredients, bar wine for 5-10 minutes, or until the sweetener is dissolved.

3. If using the wine, pour into the saucepan. Bring to a brief summer over medium-high heat. Keep an eye on it, so it doesn’t burn.

4. Reduce heat, cover and simmer on low for 10 minutes.

5. Remove from heat. Strain to remove the orange and spices. Sweeten to taste.

6. Pour into your favourite mug and garnish with extra cinnamon stick and orange.

Do you have any rituals to see in midwinter? Or if it’s summer over your way, how are you meeting the season?

What’s booking: Parade by Rachel Cusk

I read Rachel Cusk’s newest book Parade in what almost felt like a fever dream – cracking the spine open on an early flight to visit family, turning over the last page while heading back at 10pm at night.

As I wrote in last week’s round up of winter reads, I’m never quite sure how to feel about her work. Perhaps the main point, is that from her Outline Trilogy onward, I haven’t found anything she’s written quite that enjoyable to read. With each publication, she seems to be waging a kind of war against the novel, as we know it. Her characters are detached, cold and lifeless, and not very much happens. They drift through the pages, thinking about art and identity, revealing next to nothing about themselves or their motivations. Is this entirely pleasant to read? Should reading always be an enjoyable act?

There are some moments, let’s say, when you examine art, where you feel like you are missing something. I felt it when I first watched the movie Tree of Life, while at film school, perhaps the catalyst for everyone around me at the time to wax lyrical about it. I’d personally never been so bored in my life and was insulted by the fact I’d paid 11 dollars to see it (I miss early 2010s cinema ticket prices). Or consider certain art shows, where you stare at a piece of work, reading the description, thinking ‘is this really art?’ And this is the point of art, is it not? It’s meant to be subjective. It’s meant to spark conversation.

One of my favourite pieces of art of late, I saw at the Tate Modern in London last year. It was a receipt, stuck to a wall, behind a Pyrex glass. The ‘piece’ had been conceived in the 90s and in time, the text on the paper would fade. Once this occurred, a museum worker would be tasked with replacing it, going to a Tescos, a Costco, Waitrose for a grocery list of items. The one requirement? Any goods purchased had to be white.

Then I went to the National Gallery of Victoria for its Triennial exhibit earlier on in the year. One of its most marketed pieces was a browning banana, secured to the wall by masking tape. This just seemed silly at the time. How is that art?

This is the feeling I have now when I read Cusk’s work, perhaps best described as ‘what am I missing here?’. I loved The Country Life. It’s a genuinely amusing story. Aftermath is one of the most honest books I’ve ever read. I’m currently listening to A Life’s Work, a trailblazer for its subject matter, in examining the ambivalence of motherhood – a subject totally taboo at the time and not exactly well received these days, either.

There’s no question that Cusk is one of the most interesting writers of our time. And there will be some that will view her work of the last decade and I’m sure, ongoing as that of a genius. I guess I’m just personally stuck somewhere in the middle.

That’s all this week. Please excuse any typos in this week’s missive, as my brain is tired from moving planning and physical packing.

‘Til we meet again, stay well and well-fed.

-Celine