Outlaw Reflections: Winter Solstice

19 Dec Outlaw Reflections: Winter Solstice

The term solstice means “sun stands still.” On the year’s two solstices (winter and summer) the sun appears to halt in its incremental journey across the sky and change little in position during this time. Of course, contrary to appearances from Earth, the sun’s “changing position” throughout the year is actually caused by the rotation of the Earth on its tilted axis as it circles the sun each year. The solstice occurs twice a year (around December 22nd and June 21st) when the sun is farthest from the tilting planet’s celestial equator.n modern times Christians all over the world celebrate the birth of Jesus Christ on Christmas Day, which falls on December 25. However, it’s believed that this date was chosen to offset pagan celebrations of Saturnalia and Natalis Invicti. Some believe that celebrating the birth of the “true light of the world” was set in sync with the December solstice because from that point onwards, the days began to have more daylight in the Northern Hemisphere. And writer Oleh Lysiak’s spin? A “Pagan Sandwich” with a side of how it was when he  – er – we were young and wild. The sun may be most meager now, but then, life was full of surprises and druid appeal.

courtesy, Express, UK

PAGAN SANDWICH

On the Merida night train to Palenque the Chibougamou blonde,

too good to be true but good to her word, delivers in the sleeper.

The Chiapas full moon shimmies and shudders across mercurial skies

in a pagan sandwich between the solstice and the New Year.

Fresh hongos hum stoned jungle carols on a banana leaf tablecloth

below Palenque’s ruins. A Frisbee’s whisper slices purple juicy night.

Palace stairs in Guatemala City I scam a ride south in a Toronado

up against a Detroit cop’s brassy blonde daughter; arroz con platanos,

macaws and cheap hotel rooms in the “tenangos”, Huehue, Chichicas,

to Mangua where stacked post-earthquake corpses burn in los calles.

In Panama a close-cropped porky Winnebago jockey, polyester slacks,

slick white shoes and belt claims the key to life is being the right man

at the right place at the right time. My blonde bails but I have the key,

Panama Red and a ride on a cutter sailing west with an ancient Brit

skipper on his getaway with a wrinkled quirky paramour. We part

in the Galapagos: bananas, king fruit, giant avocadoes, tortoises,

marine iguanas, blue footed boobies; cactus fruit, shark for lunch.

I kiss Miami’s tarmac after flights from Baltra to Guayaquil to Quito

to another blonde in West Palm Beach; age twenty five I’m sauteed

n come and go blonde sauces. I hook a ride in a black Cadillac,

black driver, black cigar. You drive, I’ll sit in back, he laughs.

We part below Chicago. I thumb to Rocky Mountain rocknroll

road warrior gathering: pickups, tipis, domes, we dine on road kill,

poached venison, rice and beans; replant America in a sprint

toward our amen hallelujah fates. Come winter we disperse. Spring

sprouts fresh tales and treasures from the previous town’s dump

or exotic distant shores. Viscous, pungent Asian oils trade even up

for crystal Mississippi moonshine. Rules that apply to everybody else

don’t necessarily apply to us. Time grinds down our illusions.

Kids change perceptions of mortality. Friends move away or die.

With luck sweet clarity replaces stoned delusion and what might

have been construed to be mistakes, in truth are really stepping

stones to grim enlightenment in our own time, in our own fashion.

Editor’s note about Oleh:

I am reminded of the man every day. A talented sculptor, one of his mobiles sits on the coffee table in our living room. But I had not seen or heard from Oleh Lysiak for over 20 years. Ah, the wonders of social media. We rediscovered each other a few months ago, which was when I also discovered the artist is also a writer – at least nowadays – though making marks on paper is only one among a very long list of talents, some slightly sketchy.

 O.Z. Lysiak has from time to time worked as a reporter, editor, columnist, photographer, public affairs officer, restaurateur, festival booth owner-operator, ski technician, carpenter, sailor, smuggler, tree planter, fishing guide, truck driver, river guide, cook, wood-cutter, trash collector, marine gravity operator, reclaimed wood broker and sculptor. He has written for The Ukrainian Weekly, The Oregonian, and closer to home, The Aspen Daily News, The Aspen Times, The Crested Butte Pilot, The San Miguel Basin Forum – and The Telluride Daily Planet. Oleh’s poetry has been widely published and his is author of several books, including “Neighborhood of Strangers” and “Art, Crime & Lithium,” also available locally at Between the Covers Bookstore.

Outdoor mobile, Oleh Lysiak

Given his street cred and the fact he wrote extensively locally in the bad old days, I asked Oleh if he would mine his files for past columns that might be of interest to our readers. I am thankful the man said “yes.”