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.
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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!