Asher Wingard sauntered toward a Japanese hill cherry tree in the Arnold Arboretum, set their cane aside and knelt to place both hands on the grass. Here at the foot of the tree, Wingard, 34, sometimes leaves offerings of mead, dried herbs or fresh fruit for the faes, which are fairies or spirits referred to throughout European cultures and Pagan lore.
June 21 is the summer solstice, when the sun reaches its highest in the northern hemisphere’s sky due to the maximum tilt of the Earth. But this time of year also carries a sense of renewal and abundance for Pagan individuals and communities, many of whom find New England to be distinctly hallowed.
“The summer solstice is considered the time when the earth comes back to life,” Wingard said. “When it's winter, the earth [is] resting. It's building up strength.”
For Wingard, the wooded, 281-acre oasis in Jamaica Plain is an ideal place to practice “earthing” or “grounding,” a custom that lets them send any “negative energy” back to the earth.
“Everything gives off some sort of energy, and if you pay attention, a lot of times you can sense it,” Wingard said. “It’s definitely not something I think is for everyone, but I feel like for me this is very much a sacred practice.”
Paganism refers to a wide cluster of religions and practices, stemming from Indigenous and folk beliefs, that work to achieve harmony with the natural world through ritual, celebration and prayer. Some common variations in the United States include Celtic revival, Hellenistic and Wiccan — but there are ancient forms of Paganism found throughout the world.
Wingard grew up in a religious, Christian household with a church deacon for a father. When they came out as queer and later transgender, they were ostracized from the church and left with few friends.
So they did some soul-searching, which led to them to “tripping and falling over” Paganism unexpectedly. Wingard has been a Pagan for 10 years now, worshipping Norse and Germanic deities.
In New England, a distinct and ‘rapidly expanding’ community
“There are particular cultural nuances to how people will be celebrating summer solstice,” said Phyllis Curott, a Wiccan high priestess and the program chair of the Parliament of the World’s Religions.
“But overall, I think the thing that unites everyone who would use that title [of 'Pagan'] ... is to work in harmony, to celebrate the seasonal cycle and the deep, spiritual wisdom that’s revealed by the changing cycle of the season,” Curott said.
And New England is distinct, Curott said, owing largely to its history of the Salem witch trials. That has led to a “rapidly expanding” community of people who publicly identify as witches here.
“I mean, there are witches at Brown University. There are witches at Smith. There are witches at Harvard,” Curott said.
Curott, who holds degrees from Brown University and New York University School of Law, has practiced Wicca for more than 40 years, and she's watched New England's religious landscape change during that time.
At least six Pagan centers serve communities in Greater Boston. And Curott said the trend is growing, noting a “tremendous resurgence of interest.”
For this year's summer solstice, Curott traveled to Florida to marvel at another sign of nature's consistency: giant sea turtles coming ashore to lay their eggs.
Finding magic in a Brighton basement
In Brighton, Thomas Beauchamp-Arnold stood on the stairs leading to the temple in his basement. He reached up and placed a Ziploc bag over the smoke detector. He didn't want the alarm to go off from burning incense during the Pagan ritual he was preparing to lead.
In 1980, Beauchamp-Arnold was initiated into The Order of Ganymede or Coven Chthonioi, a local Pagan group that draws from Wicca and Western Esotericism. Their practice combines North African, European and East Asian Pagan traditions.
He said after the first ritual, he “floated” back home to his apartment. Now, he is the leader of the group and runs meetings out of his Brighton home.
“I always felt an urge to be religious,” he said. “And I felt that there was something beyond just the physical things we see.”
Like Wingard, Beauchamp-Arnold was raised Christian, but he grew skeptical of the inconsistencies he discovered when reading the Bible. He also felt there was no tangible proof of what he was learning.
What he was missing in Christianity, he found in Wicca — what he calls “magic.”
The temple in his basement is where that magic happens. The room is ornate, with four altars oriented in cardinal directions and covered in statues of various gods and goddesses. Some he purchased from gift shops in Egypt, while others came from closer to home, including the Coop in Harvard Square.
Rituals for all seasons
The summer solstice is one of the points on the Wheel of the Year, the cycle of seasonal festivals in Pagan traditions comprising solstices and equinoxes, as well as other occasions between them.
Beauchamp-Arnold will lead a summer solstice ritual on June 24, when he’ll recognize “the highest manifestation of the sun, which is one of our holy forces.”
Several weeks ago, however, the ceremony was more routine. Beauchamp-Arnold stood at the central altar and led a ritual titled “Invoking Isis,” Isis being an important figure in ancient Egyptian cultures and a prominent goddess in their Pagan practice today.
Two members joined in person, while others worshipped through the computer screen via a Zoom call, a COVID-era addition.
He was surrounded by nearly 60 candles and symbols of nature, including a wine-filled, sapphire blue chalice representing water. Charcoal and incense symbolized fire and air, and a single biscuit on plate with a bright blue ankh — an Egyptian hieroglyph symbolizing life — to represent earth.
From the altar, Beauchamp-Arnold read the first few lines of the ritual and proceeded to strike a singing bowl nine times, in rhythmic sets of three. Together, the members chanted and sang, pointing at each altar at various intervals, a cloudy haze from the incense surrounding them.
They prayed for the healing of members and friends who were ill, and they wished each other blessings before exchanging kisses. Then, the ritual was complete.
“Very good,” Beauchamp-Arnold said, looking at his friends. “Yes, very good.”
The solstice: a time for renewal
While some Pagans practice in gatherings, others, like Asher Wingard, find comfort in being alone in nature.
Wingard has had to confront what it means to be Pagan while Black and transgender. They said they’ve faced criticism for worshiping European deities and have even been told they didn’t belong in Pagan spaces.
In the end, they decided to take what they wanted from the practice and leave behind what they didn’t.
Wingard finds the cherry tree in the arboretum to be “full of joy.” They explained that approaching it feels like “being welcomed into a friend's space” and that one of the things they love about the tree is that “it always remembers me.”
“I don't really know how long [these trees have] been here, but I've been visiting them for a number of years, and they feel like old friends now.”
Wingard lost friends in other parts of their life, but they regained those connections among the trees.
And while life can bring unexpected challenges, for Pagans like Wingard, this week’s summer solstice is a reminder of the awe and beauty found in more constant things, like the rotation of the planet, the abundance of light and the wisdom for those who seek it.
Mandile Mpofu is a graduate student at Boston University, where she studies journalism.
