Rituals

01 Oct 2021

In 2020 I got to experience two summer solstices. This is a story about long summer days, a wholesome weekend, and an adventure with a good friend, all complete with a twist at the end and a good lesson to take home for later.

Long Summer Days

Back in May of last year, my teammate Tad and I had the wonderful idea to take advantage of the longest day of the year. The solstice. June 21st, 2020. More daylight means more time for adventures, and we figured we could accomplish an epic bike ride, up the C&O canal outside of DC, to Harpers Ferry, across the Potomac River and back into DC. It was an ambitious idea - around 100 miles, half on gravel, and it would take us seven hours even if we moved quickly.

Our idea to pursue an epic adventure specifically on the solstice had some logic to it - the most daylight out of any day in the year, the most time for activities. But why not the weekend before? Or the week after? In reality, either of those weekends would be only a few minutes shorter. Why did we attach such meaningless importance to the day?

Rituals

Humans have an interesting tendency to pursue rituals for no apparent reason. Without us there to assign and remember the meaning, they remain just as meaningless as every other day. Yet, there’s something special about the meaning we can assign. About being able to trick ourselves into thinking that one day is any different than the next before we even fill it with activity. The funny thing is that by creating rituals, by just assigning some arbitrary idea to a day, we can make it special.

Due to fathers day happening to also fall on Sunday the 21st, we decided to do the ride the day before, on June 20th. In a way, it was still a solstice ride, we told ourselves. According to Google, the days were the same exact length. So, we continued to commemorate it and call it our solstice adventure. We maintained that distinguishing factor, despite explicitly recognizing that the days before and after were the same in length, and our adventure not even occurring on the solstice anymore.

The Wholesome Weekend

So, on Saturday, June 20th, we woke up before dawn and readied our gear. Tad did the first 18 miles solo (he’s just a bit east on our giant loop - I did the last 18 miles solo). The first 45 miles went smooth - the Potomac River flowed lazily on our left the whole way up, a quiet companion. We almost skidded out in the deep mud and nearly flew over our bars on the deceptively deep rivets of the trail. Many pictures were taken, waffles eaten, and bugs swallowed. Our lunch spot was closed, so we powered on, climbing into the foothills of Leesburg, VA on the other side of the Potomac. We crossed farmland, made friends with a group of beautiful horses, ate our weight in snacks, and even treated ourselves to some wild blackberries. It’s hard to think of a day during COVID that was better than this one.

At mile 80, Tad and I split off. He was at mile 100, and had another 3 to go from the path to his house. My body was TIRED at this point. We had been biking for six hours, and out on the road for nearly 7, and the idea of a final 20 miles on a monotonous bike path exhausted me mentally too. Right before we split up, the skies opened up, dumping buckets of cold rain on us. The weather renewed my energy, and between the rain and the importance of the day, I achieved the perfect zen-like bliss of a “biking high”, and cruised the last 20-25 miles home, legs tired but soul buzzing with joy. Later in the day, my solstice continued. I had a small barbecue with some friends after the ride, and then slept off the day’s adventures, excited to enjoy the actual solstice the next day.

Reflection (and the twist)

I got to experience two summer solstices in 2020. The first, my fake solstice. An adventure planned for the solstice that, due to logistics, was done the day before. And then I also got to celebrate the real solstice. On Sunday, the 21st of June, I woke up late and wandered around the DuPont farmers market with my close friend and adventure accomplice, Helen. “How can I make the solstice special?” I asked myself all day. “What can I do to avoid wasting these precious 15 daylight hours?”. I bought sourdough and cherries from the market and ate them in a green DC oasis, Dupont Circle Park. Helen and I chatted about the limitless possibilities of permanent work from home (She later moved to Bend, OR for the remainder of the pandemic). I took the long way home, and was inspired to have a wildly productive day. I completely rearranged my room, took a leisurely bike ride to flush my legs, and sent some emails. At some point after I got home from my DC adventures, I checked my phone. Tad had texted me.

“Dude, the solstice was yesterday,” he said. I looked it up. He was right. Fathers Day, Sunday the 21st, was not the solstice. Our adventure had in fact, been a true solstice adventure.

I had, rather naively I might add, assumed that the solstice was the same day every year. The 21st of June. It just kind of seemed right. Believe it or not, the day of the solstice changes. Something about astronomy, or maybe leap years. Probably leap years. I’ll leave you to google it.

I’m a lucky guy. I experienced June 20th and June 21st like they were both the solstice. As if they were both special. And they were both memorable days, extra-ordinary. The meaningful kind of day that you don’t forget and can’t possibly regret. It’s funny how we generate meaning from nothingness, and also kind of sad that we can’t give every day as much meaning as the special ones. In reality, if we could, it would just be a new baseline of “special”. We’d be back at square one. Despite the inevitability that not all days can be special, it’s still worth pursuing days of purpose. How can we live intentionally and apply purpose and uniqueness to every day? How can we apply that special sauce to every day, or at the very least every weekend? If every day had half as much purpose and intention as my solstice days, I’m sure I would live a more fulfilling life.

I can’t tell you how to live a more purposeful life. Partly because I’m still figuring it out, and mainly because it varies from person to person (not everyone would look forward to a 100 mile bike ride adventure). There are, however, a few clues hiding in the story. A few lessons to unpack.

Lessons

One: part of the purposefulness of our adventure came from associating it with a larger mythology, a ritual (the solstice). Whether it’s buying into the sanctity of a Sunday morning cup of coffee or the reset potential of a New Year, we can give more potency to our actions by pairing them with rituals.

Two: memories are stronger when shared. There is some truth in Hemingway’s famous quote, “Never go on trips with anyone you do not love”.

Three: We chose to tackle an adventure that existed partly in the realm of the absurd. Be extra when you can, it’s worth it (Helen would call this type 2 fun).

The adventure visualized -