Solstice, Awe and the Returning Light
“Darkness is not the end, But the starting point for a subtle, almost inexpressible, light.”
As each year passes, I am more in awe at the wisdom of nature and the changing seasons. Our ancestors, who lived so close to the earth, were intimately tied to the seasons and harvest cycle. They understood the cycle of life, death and rebirth very well and the wisdom inherent within it.
This Winter Solstice, at Newgrange (Brú na Boinne), in Ireland, the chamber inside the 5500-year-old passage tomb was illuminated by the winter solstice sunrise. Each year, on the solstice, a shaft of light at dawn shines through the roof box that sits over the entrance of the passage tomb, penetrating the passage and continuing until it lights up the inner chamber. Newgrange, which predates the Pyramids in Egypt and Stonehenge in England, was built to align at exactly the dawning of the solstice light. That solstice light has illuminated that passage tomb for over 5000 years.
What an extraordinarily beautiful metaphor for the dawn returning after the longest, darkest night. A triumph of the light over darkness. How we all, after a period of wintering, can begin to prepare for Spring, for the fresh shoots of growth and life returning. It is a time to contemplate what needs to die away, to make space for the new life to begin again.
These periods of wintering are needed in our lives. In our busy world, we have forgotten this necessity. The slowing down, the slow pace of contemplation, wonder, allowing the emotions of loss, grief and sadness to be there. The invitation is to trust that the light will return.
Trust is so difficult when we are in that darkness, yet we see in nature that the new life comes after the darkness.
Solstice Blessings
For psychological change to happen, we need to sacrifice old patterns and ways of being. It is interesting because the origin of the word sacrifice is ‘to make sacred’.
When we make sacred the letting in, the letting go, the letting be, when we allow it, make it conscious, then the transformation can have space to happen. Dawn always comes after the night.
It is always a comfort for me in times of transition and transformation to remember to return to nature, to the knowing of the ancestors, and to trust that deeper wisdom is unfolding, even when we cannot see it.
This is a time for gentle kindness to ourselves.
May I be with the unknown, may I be with the mystery, may I surrender to it.
May I find strength even in the darkest night.
May I welcome the warmth of the light returning.
May I let go of anything that no longer serves me.
May I let the darkness hold me in gentle reflection and rest.
This poem by Margaret Atwood is a favourite of mine for this Solstice time:
“This is the solstice, the still point
Of the sun, its cusp and midnight,
The year’s threshold
And unlocking, where the past
Lets go of and becomes the future;
The place of caught breath, the door
Of a vanished house left ajar…”
Christmas Wonder
“A vanished house left ajar…”. The wonder of it!
Many of us are getting ready for the celebration at Christmas time. In recent years, I have come to reflect on Christmas as an invitation to return to wonder, to the child wonder that lives in all of us.
We can lose sight of that in busy times or life in general. But the wonder, the mystery, and the sense of magic are the components of Christmas that I like to remember and celebrate.
One of my best memories of Christmas Eve was when I was a young child of six or seven.
My father was visiting his uncle in the nearby village. When he returned, it was dark, and he wore his winter coat. He said he saw Santa Claus making his way over the road as he was visiting the neighbouring houses.
I was so dumbfounded and struck with complete awe. Santa Claus saw my father. I remember staring at my father’s coat sleeve, thinking, “Santa Claus has just seen this very same coat sleeve as I am looking at now.” I was trying to absorb, take it in, and almost see through Santa Claus’s eyes. That memory of wonder and awe has stayed with me ever since.
Perhaps that can be the invitation for us all. To connect to a sense of wonder, of ordinary moments, to try to see through those eyes, of the child spirit in us all.
I want to take this moment to wish you all every blessing at this Solstice time and every good wish for Christmas. Thank you for your company here on these pages this year. I am very grateful for you all.
Grá agus beannacht,
Eileen
References:
Marlan, S. (2005) The Black Sun: The Alchemy and Art of Darkness. Texas A & M University Press.
Atwood, M (1998) Eating Fire: Selected Poetry 1965-95. Virago Press. 