A Winter Sun

There was a distinct moment this year when I noticed the change in the light. It was mid-November around 3ish and I was taking a breath from work. Looking out the window, I noticed the slant of the sun and said out loud to no one in particular, “that looks like a winter sun.”

Daylight savings can often bring a more noticeable change in the timing of the sun, but for the most part, I’m grateful the changes are mostly subtle rather than a sudden, drastic plunge into more darkness.

Noticing the afternoon winter sun on that November afternoon hit me with a wave of nostalgic memories of getting off the school bus to Christmas tunes during homework with hot cocoa and the glee of twinkle lights and candle flames.

So while my summer-lovin heart felt a little sadness knowing we’d start seeing less and less of the sun’s rays, I remembered the magic that exists in the growing darkness that arrives every year for a time.

*

It doesn’t last forever so let’s enjoy it while we are here.

In fact, after today, the days begin to get the slightest bit longer! But in the meantime, I’d like to leave you with this poem someone dear shared with me:

BLESSING FOR THE LONGEST NIGHT

All throughout these months

as the shadows

have lengthened,

this blessing has been

gathering itself,

making ready,

preparing for

this night.

It has practiced

walking in the dark,

traveling with

its eyes closed,

feeling its way

by memory

by touch

by the pull of the moon

even as it wanes.

So believe me

when I tell you

this blessing will

reach you

even if you

have not light enough

to read it;

it will find you

even though you cannot

see it coming.

You will know

the moment of its

arriving

by your release

of the breath

you have held

so long;

a loosening

of the clenching

in your hands,

of the clutch

around your heart;

a thinning

of the darkness

that had drawn itself

around you.

This blessing

does not mean

to take the night away

but it knows

its hidden roads,

knows the resting spots

along the path,

knows what it means

to travel

in the company

of a friend.

So when

this blessing comes,

take its hand.

Get up.

Set out on the road

you cannot see.

This is the night

when you can trust

that any direction

you go,

you will be walking

toward the dawn.

—Jan Richardson

from The Cure for Sorrow

Merry Solstice dear one. Let’s welcome Winter in with all of its lessons, blessings, and gifts. xo!