To the Brothers of May:
You were not born at the beginning of something—you were born when everything has already come alive.
May does not ask permission. It doesn’t test the waters or wait for the right moment. It arrives full, confident, and assured in its place in the turning of the year. And so are you. Where others prepare or endure, you simply are—grounded, steady, and unmistakably present.
There is a quiet strength in that.
You carry the energy of lengthening days and open skies—the kind that doesn’t need to prove itself. Yours is not the force that breaks through, but the one that sustains. The one that holds. The one that reminds the rest of us that there is a time not just for striving, but for standing firmly in what has already been built.
Another year has found you, not by chance, but by rhythm—by the same enduring cycle that places May exactly where it belongs. And in much the same way, each of you holds your place within the Lodge: not accidental, not temporary, but essential.
May the year ahead be filled with that same quiet certainty—days that stretch long and meaningful, moments that linger, and a continued sense of belonging in all that you do.
Happy Birthday, May Brothers.
