Be
the Candle
“There
are two ways of spreading light: to be the candle or the mirror that reflects
it.”
Edith
Wharton
We’re
approaching the Winter Solstice, the darkest day of the year in the Northern
Hemisphere. We here in the Deep South have been experiencing longer hours of
darkness since daylight savings time changed. This time of year, in Birmingham,
sunlight begins to dwindle about four o’clock in the afternoon, and the sun
doesn’t rise until almost seven. Of course, in the far northern parts of the
world darkness is the norm in winter. In Barrow, Alaska, for instance, people
may see as much as 67 days per year of total darkness. So, it’s not surprising that
we humans are excited to pass the winter solstice demarcation point—when the
light begins to return.
I had a
conversation with a friend yesterday who talked about feeling “blue” this time
of year—couldn’t connect it with anything specific going on in his life, but he
had felt it since childhood. He described it as feeling somehow disappointed or let down, even
though there was no reason to be. That may be an issue of the lower levels of sunlight—seasonal
affective disorder is a real thing. We humans think we are somehow not subject to
the laws of nature, but we are. Most other animals spend the winter sleeping as much as 20 hours per day—they
don’t fight the darkness; they simply align with the energies of the earth.
Then
there’s the fact that darkness is a natural part of the of the cycle of life—including
our life, the life of our psyche. We are like flowers; we gravitate to sunlight
and cling to it, and when our petals begin to fall around us, we panic—we throw
a party, we run down to the brewery and drink ourselves into oblivion. Instead
of waiting for the natural turning of the night into day, we numb our way out
of feeling anything at all.
Acknowledging our own
darkness is a frightening thing. We are afraid that it’s permanent, that we
will always feel this way. It isn’t and we won’t. It’s part of a CYCLE, meaning
a dynamic, ever changing, living movement. It turns and we turn with it.
Christine Caine said it this way: “Sometimes when you are in a dark place,
you think you’ve been buried, but actually you’ve been planted.” And Victor
Hugo encouraged us with these words, “What makes night within us may leave
stars.” Don’t be afraid. Just light a candle, slick your ears back like a
cat, and approach slowly. “Into the darkness they go, the wise and the
lovely.” (Edna St. Vincent Millay) May your solstice be enlightening.”
In the Spirit,
Jane
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