Look at how a single candle can both defy and define the darkness. — Anne Frank
Winter Solstice 2020
This tumultuous year has called us all to recognize how closely connected we are. This tiny little virus whose unruly glitter-like nature is illuminating how every decision we make has an impact on others. The default position of, “Everyone has to make their own decisions,” has fallen rather flat since round about March 10th. Politics just cannot be ignored. Mother Nature may be preparing to shrug us all off the planet for our lack of reverence and reciprocity.
In my personal life I have experienced missing my loved ones oh so deeply — my family is far flung and for the most part we have refrained from travel. Yet in the first week of November, I took exception to my practice of staying put, and I traveled to Florida to help care for my mother who had been living with a very weak heart for over a decade. In the wee hours of November 30th my dear mom left this life and crossed over into the great beyond. Being there with her was beautiful, sad, and hard. Now my family moves on into living here on the planet without her gracious presence. I’m feeling appropriately wobbly as I turn towards the light in accord with the cycles of life and the celestial cycles while allowing for all the mysteries that grief provides.
And along with the wobbliness is a sense of awe at what life gives us with each breath. So, in the spirit of full participation in life on this beautiful orb that spins in space, I just want to encourage you to pause to celebrate and to register this tiny unmistakable turning that occurs at this auspicious time. This year we also have the magnificent alignment of Jupiter and Saturn to further astonish our psyches. 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.
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
Catch this moment while it is here. It is as subtle as finding the bottom or the top of your breath. Easy to miss in the midst of the shit show of these times.
Join with the natural world in whatever way you can and let it help you to reach deep into your very human strength. Take heart from the resilience of an oak, soften into the flow of a river, lean into the dependability of the rising and setting sun . . .
Thank you for taking the time to read this. May your holiday include a pause that renews your faith in life itself.
Warmly, Lyedie
December 22nd 2020
And a poem . . .
Let the Darkness be a Bell Tower
Listen
Quiet friend who has come so far,
feel how your breathing makes more space around you.
Let this darkness be a bell tower
and you the bell. As you ring,
what batters you becomes your strength.
Move back and forth into the change.
What is it like, such intensity of pain?
If the drink is bitter, turn yourself to wine.
In this uncontainable night,
be the mystery at the crossroads of your senses,
the meaning discovered there.
And if the world has ceased to hear you,
say to the silent earth: I flow.
To the rushing water, speak: I am.
by Rainer Maria Rilke
Translated by Joanna Macy
(My thanks to my friend Ines Zeller Bass for sharing Anne Frank’s words with me)