Lādīka’s New Light

by

Finley Vorden

Lādīka’s New Light happens on the first new moon of Lādīka after the winter solstice, when the darkest day gives way to the promise of returning light. Just when you might be convinced winter’ll last forever this time, the goddess of chaos reminds everyone that change is the only constant.

I attended my first New Light celebration in Bairora six years ago. Locals had warned me to “bring appropriate footwear,” advice I foolishly ignored. By midnight, I was barefoot in the town square with everyone else, my expensive boots sacrificed to a particularly enthusiastic bonfire dance. The cobbler I visited the next day just nodded knowingly. Apparently, he does quite the business after festival night.

What makes New Light special isn’t just the impressive displays of light (though watching thousands of lanterns drift into the night sky over the Beaucona Mountains is a sight I'll never forget). It's the delightful contradiction at its heart: a festival honoring the goddess of chaos that follows remarkably consistent traditions:

• First comes the writing of intentions. Everyone scribbles hopes, dreams, or outlandish plans onto slips of paper. Whether you're planning to overthrow a minor government or finally learn to bake bread, Lādīka supposedly appreciates ambition in all forms.
• Next, there's the lantern release. Your written intention gets attached to a paper lantern before being set adrift into the night sky.
• My favorite bit, though? The random gift exchange. Since Lādīka loves unpredictability, celebrants are encouraged to give completely unexpected gifts to strangers. One year, I received a preserved octopus in a jar (still unsure what I was meant to do with that).

Fair warning: if you're planning to attend this festival, pack nothing you aren’t willing to lose, bring a sense of humor, and perhaps consider travel insurance. The number of stories that begin with “It was Lādīka's New Light when I...” and end with some life-altering adventure is not coincidental.