Tag

winter solstice

Solstice 2020

I’ve posted about the Winter Solstice almost every single year.

It has always brought me great comfort. Yes, it means we head into the winter, which for many people represents cold and darkness. But actually, this Solstice is a turn toward light.

December 21 is the shortest, darkest day of the year. But the next day, and the next, and the next, we begin gaining minutes of light every single day. And after a few weeks, I always notice – oh my goodness, it’s staying lighter out later.

This year we NEED light. We need hope. We can’t bear any more darkness. And so, on this day, cherish this piece of information: this is it. This is the darkest it’s going to get. We made it. We are headed towards the light.

Towards the Light
(author unknown)

By moonlight,
or starlight,
or in the sun’s bright rays,
I journey,
guiding my way
by keeping
to the light
as best I can.
Sometimes all seems dark,
then I remember
how the poppy turns its head,
follows the sun’s passage across the sky,
then rests in night’s cool shadows,
bowing in thanks
to whatever power
makes the stalk
stand straight and strong,
drawing deep from its roots
a wine dark love.
In moonlight,
the garden glows,
silvering the poppies.
And even by starlight
you can tell
shades of darkness
if you try.
So do not lose heart
when vision dims.
Journey forth
as best you can-
bloom when you are able,
rest when you must,
keep faith,
keep always
towards the light.

Solstice.

I wasn’t going to write a Solstice post this year. I posted the poem on Facebook and was going to call it a day. After all, I barely blog anymore (but, oh, I miss writing so so much), and what’s the point in writing the same thing I write every year?

But then amidst trying to do 623876 things and manage 987123 items on 8712 to-do lists, and being so tired and so mentally drained, all I wanted to do was write this post. Tradition, I guess. And that quieted part of me that yells, I need to write again!

So here we are. Solstice again. We made it. Now we move toward the light, and yet, it’s also winter now, which is the darkest times. It’s cold and dark and gray, and every day I am reminded that while I will never move for a whole host of reasons, I am not meant to live here. We are either moving toward the light or away from the light and all I want is a chunk of time IN the light.

Every year, on autopilot, I pull out this poem and read it, and smile to myself. But this year I practically got teary reading it – I READ it in a way I had never read it before. You know how you can KNOW something but sometimes something else tells it in a different way and it resonates in a way it never has before? That’s how it felt today.

My takeaway today was that the goal is not to not be in the darkness. The point is, when there is darkness, really hard and scary darkness, we can turn toward the sky where we know light will be someday. And breathe in deep and be thankful for the the inner strength we muster up to withstand the darkness, each moment, each day. We don’t give ourselves enough credit. I don’t give myself enough credit.

I don’t know, you guys, I can’t explain it well but I needed this more than I can explain. Hope it does something for some of you, also.

Happy, happy Solstice.

Towards the Light (author unknown)

By moonlight,
or starlight,
or in the sun’s bright rays,
I journey,
guiding my way
by keeping to the light
as best I can.
Sometimes all seems dark,
then I remember
how the poppy turns its head,
following the sun’s passage across the sky,
then rests in night’s cool shadows,
bowing in thanks
to whatever power
makes the stalk
stand straight and strong,
drawing deep from its roots
a wine dark love.
In moonlight,
the garden glows,
silvering the poppies.
And even by starlight
you can tell shades of darkness
if you try.
So do not lose heart
when vision dims.
Journey forth
as best you can—
bloom when you are able,
rest when you must,
keep your faith,
keep always
towards the light.

Solstice.

Turns out that despite how much I love writing a new solstice post each year, my thoughts don’t change much.

Last year, I wrote:

The Winter Solstice is here.

Oh, how I love this day.

Today, after six long months of turning towards the darkness, we began to turn towards the light.

We gain a minute of light each day – and in a time where life can feel very dark, each minute makes a difference.

The earth begins to propel us towards the light, just as the waves in the ocean propel you to shore. We now ride the wave of the earth, as it cradles us and gently moves us towards hope, and energy, and life.

All of those are still truths I hold firmly in my heart.

And now, there are sunflowers too, in my head and on the wallpaper of my phone, reminding me that even before solstice, even before the world pushes us toward the light, we can move ourselves. We can stretch and grow so that even in our darkest moments we are always, always, always reaching for the sun and any light we can find.

Happy Solstice.

Towards the Light (author unknown)

By moonlight,
or starlight,
or in the sun’s bright rays,
I journey,
guiding my way
by keeping to the light
as best I can.
Sometimes all seems dark,
then I remember
how the poppy turns its head,
following the sun’s passage across the sky,
then rests in night’s cool shadows,
bowing in thanks
to whatever power
makes the stalk
stand straight and strong,
drawing deep from its roots
a wine dark love.
In moonlight,
the garden glows,
silvering the poppies.
And even by starlight
you can tell shades of darkness
if you try.
So do not lose heart
when vision dims.
Journey forth
as best you can—
bloom when you are able,
rest when you must,
keep your faith,
keep always
towards the light.