The longest night of the year. The least daylight. And this day does feel bitter cold. In my town, temperatures are forecast to reach down to -5˚F. Our freezing temperatures are matched across the country, with freezing and blizzard conditions coast-to-coast.
Today is also the day for my Winter Solstice message, now the third in an annual tradition. I had begun journaling and brainstorming ideas for this message in November, mostly the lessons I had been learning while paralyzed from doing not much at all, braced in both arms from a six-foot fall in August that broke both of my wrists and injured my right hand. My message, with more specifics and less metaphor, was to mimic my poem, Quietest before the Dawn, posted on November 30. On the day I posted it, I really felt that I was arriving at the “dawn,” and feeling its hope.
Two days later – yes, only two days – a significant calamity hit, one that impacts many, and me especially. I thought the dawn was here, but it is not. Winter is here. So is Hibernation. I began the year in hibernation (see post here), and I end the year in hibernation. Thank goodness I’ve been learning the beauty of hibernation.
It seems that we collectively may also be in a season of hibernation, begun in March of 2020 to “stay at home” and now in nationwide snow, ice, freezing temperatures, and winter storms. I reflect back on my first Winter Solstice message of 2020, when I cited the Prophet Daniel envisioning a future time of people running to and fro and knowledge increasing. Daniel was so overwhelmed by this vision, he laid dormant on the floor for three days. Over these past few years, I have been learning much about the need to slow down, to cease running to and fro, to stay at home, to rest, to hibernate, and to take one day at a time.
At this moment, when I am feeling the cold and the dark, I lack the words of hope in my Quietest post, or my Hibernation post, or my Winter Solstice 2020 message, but we humans also need to learn to allow ourselves to enter into the darkness and to be honest that we feel it, and that it is hard. Could it be that I keep entering the darkness because I try so hard to hide that darkness exists and that it is hard? If so, I admit today I feel the darkness, and it is hard.
In much gratitude, however, I have been glimpsing mysteries of humanity and have grown in ways that are precious and priceless and can never be taken from me, “treasures in heaven where neither moth nor rust can destroy.” Perhaps in January, I will begin a Hibernation or Winter or Quiet series that shares some of what I have experienced and some of what I’ve learned.
For now, whether you are feeling the warmth of the holiday or the cold of winter, I send my own warmth and love to you for this long night, this holiday season, and this coming year, and bless you to soak in Panadonix's amazing rendition from their Christmas CD of The Sound of Silence.
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