Greetings dear Community,
It is Solstice, and I write from the deep pre-dawn darkness here at the westernmost point in the United States. The Pacific Ocean roars faintly in the background, raindrops patter, a fire blazes, candles burn… and I have so much to say. Yet it is not time to say it, it is time to stay quiet, inward, still. It is time to hold my own counsel and listen to the darkness; to what comes from the flicker of firelight and tending the hearth of this sacred season. I wish so much for you, for this world, for myself… this is my season’s greeting.
May you make time every day for silence and contemplation.
May you have the support and courage to enter and allow darkness its place.
May you find your open heart and listen and learn from what you find there.
May you offer yourself as a mantle of kindness and care excluding nothing and no one from your light.
On Solstice we celebrate the return of the light — I say, pause, stay here in the dark awhile. Darkness has so much to teach us. Winter is just beginning and the light will return slowly; tolerating slow movements is an excellent winter practice. Rushing back to the light is based in fearing the darkness which is epigenetically imprinted in us from the days of lions and tigers and bears; from a time when we walked among the creatures and the living forces and we knew we were part of, not separate from; when cold and dark often meant hunger, suffering, and death. Things are different now but the imprints remain unless we recognize them and bring them to the light.
This winter, let’s make peace with the darkness — starting with ourselves, right here. Together, we can reclaim our right to rest, silence, and stillness. Contemplation is a solitary pursuit, yet we do better knowing we are doing the things that matter to us in community. From this day through Spring equinox, know my candle will be burning, my silence tended, the darkness granted its rightful place, every morning before the day begins — see you there.