Today is the winter solstice. That means that every day from this point until June will get a little bit longer, a little bit brighter, a little more sun.
I’m one of those people who dreads the short grey winter days. I get up in the dark, drive to work in the dark, come home in the dark. I might catch a glimpse of daylight walking past a window, but mostly I live to soak up daylight on the weekends. And for the winter solstice.
This year I’ve noticed that I’m not as bothered by the short days. I still get up in the dark, but if my timing is just right, I can sip hot coffee while watching the sun come up from my kitchen or home office. I don’t have to leave the house in the dark. Many days I can manage to take a walk while it’s still light outside. And, though I’m still working when the sun sets and the lights come on early, I am already in the welcoming coziness of my own home.
This year the winter solstice seems like a perfect metaphor. We are in the midst of a long, dark winter, tucked in alone or in small family communities. This year’s pandemic-imposed time at home has provided, for some of us, the quiet that nature intended. Long winter nights are a time for quiet reflection, for rest, and for gathering strength for the burst of growth that lies in the spring ahead.
Winter solstice is a time of darkness. And many are feeling a deep darkness of loss, worry, and loneliness. And while some of us rest at home in cozy darkness, an increasing number have no home to rest in. Or home is not safe and cozy, or it’s permeated by anxiety or grief. Or there’s no time for rest. Some are bustling through day and night to stock the shelves and deliver our packages. Health care workers are overwhelmed and exhausted by the relentless press of lives to be saved.
Winter solstice reminds us that there are brighter days ahead. In the midst of long nights, we celebrate the gradual return of the sun. It doesn’t come all at once. From one day to the next, it’s almost imperceptible. But one day you realize that the mornings are a little bit brighter and the afternoons stretch on a little bit longer.
And it feels like we, too, are perhaps on the cusp of brighter days. Gradually, more people will be vaccinated and fewer will be sick. Gradually, we’ll gather again with family and friends. One day we’ll hear the hum of happy conversation and laughter that we’ve been missing during these long dark months. People will be back to work.
In the meantime, my wish for you is that you find respite. Take a nap. Curl up with a book, a movie, a hot beverage, a soft blanket, a furry friend, or a loved one. If you can, go for a walk or stand by a window to soak up a few hours of daylight.
Renew and recharge for the labor of growth that lies ahead. Because, while the days will get brighter, renewal and growth require energy and purpose. Some will still be in need of safe homes. Some will still suffer from anxiety and grief. Long simmering injustices raw from this year’s wounds will still need our attention.
In this season of stillness, ready yourself for the push of the seasons to come.
Peace.
On Balance 