Much like the sun coming up on the solstice – I emerge sleepy from my bed, but I am hopeful.
Yet again the wheel turns, and I see through all the questions and the unknowns; the anxieties and the discomfort… just the faintest sliver of light edging over the horizon.
Today marks the day when the longest night of the year greets us early in the evening. Where I live, the sun sets in the afternoon, and yet, there is still reason to celebrate; to greet the winter with a warm and open embrace. Though we head into the harshest and coldest of seasons here in the Northern hemisphere, we are prepared. Unlike many of our ancestors, who I have no doubt were made of stronger mettle, I am sheltered and secure without the need to hunt or forage; my necessities are few, and met with modern convenience. The basics are taken care of. Perhaps this is why we complain about the weather — especially those of us that live in cities — we are so much more removed, and we have the luxury to do so.
I made a choice a quarter of my life ago, not to be fussed about the state of the weather*.
Some days I am better at it than others, but for the most part, I have gotten good at realizing that these cycles and the various states they bring are fluid, ever shifting, circling back around. Temporary.
I am reminded that there are many things we cannot change.
Countless have quoted that we must accept these things. It may take courage to change and wisdom to differentiate, but I believe it takes both wisdom and courage to come to a place where you can accept that which is beyond your control, especially when it is uncomfortable. I may be doing okay when it comes to accommodating the more under-appreciated patterns of the weather, but there is so much more I have yet to understand.
Today, the sun will appear to stand still over the tropic of Capricorn – the southernmost point of the equator. Stationary.
Sometimes our lives feel like that: stagnated…stuck. But take heart. Nature reminds us that nothing stays in one place for long. The course of rivers change, mountains can be moved, forests grow and tiny seeds bloom, rising to meet the light, surfacing from the darkness of their earthen womb. What better time than winter, to retreat into our own cocoons; dropping down internally, held by our own reassurance; a momentary calm in snug, secure safe keeping.
This is the time of going inward.
A time of deep reflection.
I cannot help but think of solstice as a time of “soul-stillness”.
Solstitium. From the Latin sol (sun) and sistere (to stand still), meaning literally: the Sun’s standstill. But the sun doesn’t stop so much as it slows to a pause, and then begins to speed up again, incrementally. So, use this time wisely — use it to be still.
Tomorrow, after the second longest night of the year, the day awakens with a sun that climbs just a little bit higher in the sky, bringing with it slightly longer periods of light. The coldest of days are still yet ahead of us, but there is hope. Fuel the fire inside, and when spring comes to melt the ice, you will be ready to act on that which you could only dream about in the depths of this, your nurturing hibernation.
*Not the climate, mind you — that is a separate thing. As Bernd Brunner states in his article, Winter is a time of regeneration: we’ll miss it when it’s gone: “human intervention will affect the phenomenology of winter. This is not just because of meteorological change. Knowing that the caprices of the weather are caused by us, as much as by any ‘natural’ process, changes how we experience the seasons: our relation to them, the respect and interest we accord them, and the way that they affect our perception of our place in the world.”
Comments