December 21, 2019
Perhaps, like me, you have been in semi-hibernation these last few weeks — scurrying home as early as you possibly can to slip into your jammies to read or watch Netflix. I’ve been surrendering to this impulse, as I find when I do that it doesn’t translate as feeling down or depressed. I do long for those summer evenings when I’m out on my paddle-board until well after nine. They seem so far away and unimaginable to me now, with the sun setting at 4:18 and the darkness bearing down on the day.
So, in the spirit of full participation in life on this beautiful orb that spins in space, I invite you to pause to celebrate and to register this tiny but unmistakable turning into increased light that occurs on this auspicious day. Civilizations have built monuments to capture and magnify this annual momentous occasion. (The Passage Tomb at New Grange in Ireland, The Karnak Temple at Luxor, Egypt, The Standing Stones of Stonehenge, to name a few) But, if we sharpen our attention, we can attune to this moment with our very selves as instrument.
Farmers’ Almanac, “Winter Solstice 2019: When Is It, And What Is It?”
The exact timing depends on where you stand on this magnificent planet. According to the Farmers’ Almanac, 11:19 PM here on the east coast of the US is the moment in clock time. It is great to know the exact timing, but you may feel it it any point in the next few days.
Working with the cycles of life is an important element of finding and forging fulfillment, rather than settling for success. Here is what I’m learning to look for as I attune to the great turning and to register it in my self as instrument:
A subtle but remarkable lightening of my spirit
An increase in energy
A lift in my feeling state
A softening in the regions of my heart
A tiny beam of inspiration
A trickle of forgiveness
A clear yes, or a clear no
Join with the natural world and catch this moment while it is here. It is as subtle as finding the bottom or the top of your breath. And it is easy to miss in all the hubbub . . .
I hope that you have fun with this, and may your holiday include a pause that renews your faith in life itself.
Warmly, Lyedie
Putney, Vermont
Faith
I want to write about faith,
about the way the moon rises
over cold snow, night after night,
faithful even as it fades from fullness,
slowly becoming that last curving and impossible
sliver of light before the final darkness.
But I have no faith myself
I refuse it even the smallest entry.
Let this then, my small poem,
like a new moon, slender and barely open,
be the first prayer that opens me to faith.
By David Whyte
From Where Many Rivers Meet