Deep in an old-growth cedar grove, in a quiet corner of Cascadia you can find a gathering unlike any other taking place at mid-summer. Is it a metal festival? Is it a pagan ritual? Is it a gathering of friends around a fire? It is all of these things, and a little bit more.
Born out of a desire for land-based community gathering, Cascadian Midsummer has evolved through several forms over the past decade to emerge as a carefully curated experience for those seeking something more from their summer festival experience. At a glance it might appear like any other fest, with a banger lineup spread over a few days in summer. But once you arrive in the grove it is immediately clear that there is much more to this gathering.
First, there is the land. Cedars tower over thickets of ferns and trilliums, moss covers everything and dangles luridly from outstretched branches. The persistent babble of the brook is punctuated by the hauntingly musical trill of thrushes. The current owners are slowly rewilding and restoring this land which was once part of a logging operation; their care and stewardship is one of the many gifts they bestow upon festival attendees. Nothing quite compares to watching bands perform on a moss draped stage surrounded by towering trees hundreds of years old.
Bands run the gamut from dark-folk to black metal with plenty of experimental sounds in between. Headliners included the mighty Hulder, semi-locals Ragana and California based Cinder Well. The lineup was wide-ranging, including Dunava, a female vocal ensemble performing folkloric songs of the Balkans; Friends of the Road, an experimental string band; Society of the Silver Cross, ‘yogic metal’ and plenty of black metal – atmospheric, cascadian and otherwise. For those who just can’t get enough, there was even an electronica dance party hosted by Pavor Nocturnus and Darksparkle, which lasted to the wee hours of the morning. Or so I heard – I was fast asleep in my tent tucked in amongst the trees, preferring an early morning to the late night.
Each day began with guided meditations and yoga sessions, followed by a series of speakers and workshops lasting until afternoon when the music began. Aidoneus Åjjveålmáj presented on Green Colonialism & the Exploitation of Indigenous People, a prescient topic in the era of ‘clean energies’. Equally in line with current affairs was The Past and Present of Fascism presented by Christopher Nejtek. Corrine Boyer spoke about Scandinavian Plants, and Eden Blooms lead a guided plant walk while discussing the myth of Persephone. Mathias Nordvig spoke eloquently about a concept at the very heart of this years festival – The Sacred Grove as a Network for Resilience. Meanwhile, Harmony Cronin and Sarah Bellum led a hands-on workshop, taking place in the meadow throughout the weekend, which covered compassionate and sustainable animal consumption from slaughter to cooking. While the content varied widely, the workshops and lectures all followed a common thread of educating and providing tools to address urgent issues in our society and to build the future we want to live in.
In addition to the music, presenters, workshops and vendors, and the usual festival pursuits of cooking, camping and camaraderie – Cascadian Midsummer offered something unique and very special: ritual. Above all, it was this element that bound attendees together and drove home the lessons we learned throughout the weekend about our roles in the sacred grove. It is no mere coincidence or affectation that this festival takes place at Midsummer – it is an intentional gathering to celebrate Summer Solstice.
The festival opened on Friday with the raising of the Midsummer pole and a circle dance. This was followed by daily rituals around the communal fire, to which we were summoned by the bellowing of a horn. Gathered around the fire we observed, and participated if we wished, in thoughtfully planned rituals led by the Red Hawk Collective. I won’t go into detail here – this is something you need to come experience for yourself – but I can tell you the effect it had on me. As someone who feels always apart, never belonging anywhere, these were deeply felt opportunities for me to be truly connected with other attendees. They were calls to reflection and calls to action, both in regards to my own life and to the communities of which I am a member. They were a reminder that I am one tree and I have a responsibility to not only my roots and crown, but the whole grove.
Two months later, I am still unpacking these lessons and turning these experiences over in my mind and in my heart. I am still feeling the earth shake with the thunderous onslaught of Liminal Shroud, and drifting into a quiet nightfall with the carefully plucked harp strings of Andy Aquarius. Still smelling the smoke drifting off the barbeque where the goats were roasted. Still feeling the soft yield of earth beneath my feet as I wander through the forest. See you in the grove.
