A year for leaping...
The gift of February 29, an 'extra' day to balance our time and our planet.
I’ve had a thing for leap years since meeting my First Love in the autumn of 1991. The Leap Year day of 1992 marked a special night away for ourselves and the first and only time a Claddagh ring was turned around on my finger. No wonder Leap Years have long held a romantic attachment for me.
First love is intense and like most forms of intensity, mine burned bright and fast. I imagine that’s the nature of First Loves. They imprint a place within our minds and hearts and sometimes the centre cannot hold such unfettered potency. February 29 that year meant a singular and memorable getaway for us. The special-day-ness of the date added its rare essence to the magic and meaning of what we shared and celebrated that 1992 winter. As I’ve grown older, the significance of Leap Year Day has expanded and altered from what it once meant for me.
In Ireland, the nation of my own ancestry, February 29 is sometimes called Bachelor’s Day and Ladies’ Privilege Day (insert eye rolls and snorts of bemusement/disgust here.) Nowadays, a lack of marital status is no longer tied to shame or the so-called ‘curse’ of spinsterhood. Neither must gender be shoe-horned into such binary codes and confines. To the modern eye and spirit, rituals associated with February 29 may seem quaint if not downright sexist. Women were granted permission to propose to men during a leap year, an act ultimately decreed law by Queen Margaret of Scotland in 1288. In the not too distant past, it was a day to shine a light on lads whose girlfriends considered them unacceptably slow in the proposal department.
As late as the early 1900s, bachelors in small villages were rounded up on February 29 in jest and fined in court by an all-female judge and jury if they turned down a proposal to marry. Fines meant these men with cold feet must buy a special gift for the lass they’d been dragging their feet to commit a lifetime to if they still refused to put a ring on it.
In 2010, the film Leap Year was released, starring Matthew Goode and Amy Adams. I watched it again this past weekend and it remains as cringe-worthy now as fourteen years ago. Particularly so for any Irish viewer forced to witness two leads (played by British and American actors) who fall in love in Ireland. I laughed and shook my head like a bobble figure. To escape rough waves while ferrying Adams’ character between Wales and Ireland, no attempt to cross straight to Dublin is mentioned (the shortest, most practical and direct route at 58 nautical miles) . Instead, the destination for some bizarre reason is Cork (adding at least another 100 nautical miles.) Landing in Cork becomes impossible due to bad weather. Not to worry though because the captain assures Anna Brady (whom Adams plays) that he can drop her off in Dingle instead. Dingle! On the west coast of Ireland. By boat.
This journey by small vessel is so treacherous, let’s stay in the North Atlantic that bit longer so I can drop you the furthest possible point from Dublin, said no Irish sea captain ever.
The distance and time delay for Anna Brady from her original goal is essential to the plot, however. Thank the celluloid gods Goode’s Declan O’Callaghan eases the eyes and hearts of viewers to pull us all through. Because as the film unfolds, we are required to believe the impossible. Things like the lilt of Irish accents do originate from the leprechauns of frosted cereal cartoons or that the breathtaking Cliffs of Moher have migrated south to County Kerry. Multiple leaps abound in the film. Among them: leaps of faith, imagination, and creative geography. But I digress.
No slight intended against Adams’ comic prowess. She’s an incredibly versatile actor and I adored her in one of my top favourite films of all time: Arrival, the brilliant 2016 adaptation of Ted Chiang’s profoundly moving novella, Stories of Your Life and Others.
Just I’ve never been a romance-film gal. My first date with my ex of nine years involved attending an indie cinema to catch Atom Egoyan’s The Sweet Hereafter about a small Canadian community in the aftermath of a bus crash that kills 14 children. Maybe that set the tone and trajectory of that relationship. Clues I might have gleaned earlier than I did. All the time I might have saved if I were Sherlock Holmes. (I do continue to love that film, if no longer that particular ex.)
I am still grateful for Leap Year, though. (The calendar event not the film.) It does feel like an extra day the cosmos gifts us. Really it’s a complex orchestration of time in such a way to keeps our seasons on track. If we did not add a February 29 almost every four years, our summers (at least in the Northern Hemisphere) would one day begin in December.
The origin of Leap Day begins around 45 or 46 BCE when Julius Caesar adds the extra day every four years to the Julian Calendar. It’s not until the late sixteenth century that Pope Gregory XIII—or more likely some savvy papal mathematician—improves upon the Julian calendar to instigate the Gregorian. February 29 appears every four years except when that fourth year is not evenly divisible by the number four. The pope is determined that Easter must always unfold in springtime.
This means the day itself is not really outside of time. Instead it’s meant to keep everything on time and in time. An elaborate ploy so seasons (along with holy days) stay aligned in our minds. With the added bonus and divine purpose of liturgical event planning and celebration. It’s not exactly extra, but we can make it extra.
I’ve written about my fascination with Time before. At my current stage of life, I’m grateful for anything deemed extra time. Some days, especially under ongoing global pandemic, conflict and climate crisis, we could certainly use more time. Because time often feels, especially the last few years, like it’s running out on us. For some of these issues, our species must make significant strides. This is a year for leaping!
The whole of human existence really is a dot, a mere blip, on the timeline of this glorious planet. But it’s been a devastating dot thus far. Leaping matters when the bulk of us have made such insignificant progress in areas that require lifelong commitment. To be clear, I’m not talking marriage here.
In certain cases, we not only cease from leaping but even reverse our direction to make outdated and oppressive as well as unstable and unforgivable stumbles b a c k w a r d s with zero care for human rights or the harms and hells left in their wake. For every step back, we vitally need those two steps forward! While time is of the essence, humans must apply any spare time (real or imagined). to make a running and progressive jump. An act that upholds our individual and collective spirit and wellbeing. One that genuinely advances our humanity, protects all communities and species, and resumes Earth’s ecological balance.
I personally love that February 29 is associated with leaping. It’s an act of courage, trust, and hope. We all know Neil Armstrong made a giant leap back in July of 1969 when he stepped off the Eagle onto the surface of the moon. On Earth, we make our own leaps and slips, hurtles and falls whether in the direction of romantic love, or better health, towards peace, or a safer and healthier planet.
It’s worth remembering that before Armstrong made his giant leap, he first began with a small step.
And this is how we might achieve anything worth leaping toward in our lives. With one, small step. And another that follows it. And the next. It’s manageable. It’s doable. February 29 is a perfect day for that gentle reminder.
I recently made a leap myself towards a goal I’ve always dreamed about with no guarantee I won’t twist my ankle, levitate in aimless limbo or keep soaring up my personal mountain like the goat I am (solidarity with other Capricorns out there.) The astrological sign sports a fishtail instead of hooves, I think. This means I might slip and can’t be sure how things might unfold. That’s what leaping into the unknown is, right? A guessing game once our feet leave the ground. There’s an element of danger to any risk. That old adage of looking before leaping comes to mind. I scouted out all I could and will let you know if my own personal vault lands with all the grace and fortitude of a Simone Biles dismount. (Ms. Biles is one of my athletic and mental health heroes so fingers crossed and toes splayed.)
For now, I wish all of us sure footing on February 29, throughout the whole of this year and over the next four. In the small steps we take and the giant leaps, too.