As we stand on the threshold of winter, the Winter Solstice has become a time for reflection as the sun appears to stand still on the shortest day/longest night of the year.
I have always felt it ironic that on this day, December 21, the dark, cold season of winter begins at the same time that light returns to our world and daylight hours lengthen. We are held in the sometimes harsh, sometimes nurturing depths of a season which demands that we seek warmth, shelter, rest and reflection while at the same time the light of our common humanity and connection to all beings grows and glows in our inmost core: an outer and inner hearth to which we are called to tend.
We are near the end of what must be one of the darkest years humanity has known in recent times. I recall so clearly the excitement and hope with which I embraced the new year of 2020. The year of perfect vision! I set goals for myself, made a vision board with friends and anticipated celebrating our 50th wedding anniversary with family. I looked forward to a vacation in Maine, and registered for a couple of spiritual retreats.
Before we knew what was actually happening, the COVID-19 pandemic threw the world into chaos and lockdown, racial injustice called us to examine what we had too long chosen to ignore, and an intense and bitter political climate exhausted us. Darkness descended. Death became very close, very possible, very real. We grew used to hovering in the shadows.
As I reflect on 2020, I find that this year has taught me many things. Most importantly to treasure the fleeting gift of life; to let go of what I do not need: business, shopping, meetings, travel, explicit items from the grocery store. And to draw close to what I DO need: walks in nature, silence, animal companionship, the smiling eyes behind a mask of those I love, simple meals, letters from friends, and the music of my husband’s voice. What have you learned? This truly was a year of things becoming clear, and correcting distorted vision.
This is the first year we have actually had the time to daily light Advent candles in quiet reflection of the coming winter and light growing in the darkness. We have read daily lessons about how our companion creatures prepare for winter from the book All Creation Waits by Gayle Ross. My chickens molt and grow new feathers so that they can fluff them out as little down layers to trap warmth. They forget their squabbles and huddle together on the roost. The bear and other creatures (including me) put on an extra layer of fat. The painted turtle burrows down into the mud at the bottom of a pond and almost dissolves into its shell. Firefly larvae (glo-worms) are growing and glowing even now deep in the underground awaiting metamorphosis into winged creatures once again.
I have participated in a solstice ritual (via Zoom) where we repeated many names of people who have died this past year in staggering, unbearable numbers. We held their memories in tears and grief. We asked forgiveness for our own faults and failings. We offered up prayers for the healing of our nation, our earth and prayers for the return of goodness, kind speech and unity to our world.
On this most holy of solstices, on this longest night of the year, I hope you pause to grieve, ask forgiveness and whisper a prayer for our world. The light is growing both in our world and in each of us. I leave you with a prayer:
May we find hope in the lights we have kindled on this sacred night, hope in one another and in all who form the web-work of peace and justice that spans the world.
In the heart of every person on this Earth burns the spark of luminous goodness; in no heart is there total darkness. May we who have celebrated this winter solstice, by our lives and service, by our prayers and love, call forth from one another the light and the love that is hidden in every heart.
Prayers for a Planetary Pilgrim by Edward Hayes
Let there be light!
Under A Hen's Wing 