Winter Solstice

To Know the Dark 
by Wendell Berry 

To go in the dark with a light is to know the light.
To know the dark, go dark. Go without sight,
and find that the dark, too, blooms and sings,
 
and is traveled by dark feet and dark wings.

It’s the Winter Solstice today. The day, in the Northern Hemisphere, when the North Pole is at it’s maximum tilt away from the sun, producing the shortest daylight hours, and the longest nighttime hours. From here, it will begin to tilt toward the sun, making the days slowly grow longer. For those of us with Seasonal Affective Disorder, those few extra moments of sun each day can be felt in our bodies and our hearts.

I believe in embracing winter, loving the snow, the cold, in taking the time to rest and rejuvenate, but the darkness is harder. On the solstice, we celebrate the return of the light, but what would it mean to “know the dark,” to not resist it, to find the beauty in it?

Aging, and accompanying beloved dogs in the last years of their lives, has made me more nocturnal. A creature of the night. Not just sitting up reading, or staring into the fire, but going outside on moonless nights and nights filled with moonlight reflected off snow. Last year, one winter night around 2 am, I took Ben, my beloved Golden, out. As we walked down the walkway toward the driveway, something flew across from the maple to the birdfeeder in the dark. What kind of bird would be out in the darkness, I wondered?

The next night, in the same spot, out of the corner of my eye I saw something scurry around the maple. I didn’t look to close, as we headed out into the yard. I wasn’t sure I wanted to know what was clinging in the dark to the tree trunk.

The third night, coming out the door, I lit the flash light and the beam caught two beady eyes staring at me. A flying squirrel eating at the suet feeder. It scurried up the tree and out of sight. Ben and I hurried on, to give it some privacy. I was sixty-six-years old and had just seen my first flying squirrel. Had always thought of them as some far-off exotic creature that lived elsewhere. Had never realized I inhabited the same world, although I resided in the daylight and they in the night.

The solstice is a good time to take a moment to pause in the midst of the hurriedness of the holidays. Start in the dark, get to know the dark in a way we never have. See what travels on dark feet and wings. Go outside and sit in the dark tonight and know the dark.

Then come inside and light a candle. Watch the flame. Sit in silence. Pause.

Write on a paper your fears and anguish for the past year and burn them in a small bowl. Release them.

Journal about your hopes for next year. The world you want to help bring about. The beauty you want to remember. The courage you hope to have. The gifts you have that can help that work. The friends you can do that work with.

Drink a warm drink. Make a hearty soup. Make bread. Eat it warm with butter.

Write a blessing for the world to set free in the universe.

Or if you are like me, and courage is what you are seeking, use this one from cheertivity.com

On this sacred night, may you find the courage to embrace your shadows and light. Let the darkness teach you the value of resilience and the importance of self-reflection. Know that you are stronger than you realize.

Happy Solstice.