The Hope of Winter Solstice

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.

“And”

“I must hold in balance the sense of futility of effort and the sense of the necessity to struggle; the conviction of the inevitability of failure and still the determination to “succeed” — and, more than these, the contradiction between the dead hand of the past and the high intentions of the future.” – F. Scott Fitzgerald in “The Crack Up”, Esquire Magazine (February 1936)

“And” may be one of the most powerful words in the English language. It gives us delicious combinations like chocolate and peanut butter, inspiring challenges like patting your head and rubbing your tummy, beautiful harmony like sopranos and altos, and helps us weigh our options like pros and cons.

“And” allows us to acknowlege two or more realities at the same time. It allows us to build on an idea without tearing it down. It allows us to learn from a wide range of diverse views and thus broaden and deepen our understanding.

Yet I too often find myself in a binary “either or” world. The answer is yes or no. This must be either right or wrong. That must either be good or bad. I must be either be for or against. You are either on my side or on the other side.

This forced choice limits our options, our creativity, and our possibilities.  “And” says I can have a family and a career. “And” let Steve Jobs imagine a device that could be a phone and a compuer and a camera. At the end of the Great Depression, “and” said we could put people back to work and build an infrastructure that would fuel economic growth for decades to come.

To be clear, there is a place for uncompromising principle. We should not make exceptions to our deeply held values. And, we can honor our core beliefs in ways that are respectful and generative.

For example, I firmly believe everyone should have access to the health care they need. Full stop. Grounded in that core principle, I can acknowledge the real challenges of how to pay for the rapidly rising costs of that care and the challenges of how to preserve and build on the aspects of the health care system that are working while completely re-imagining all of the aspects that don’t. And, by the way, I can acknowledge different points of view on which aspects of the system are working and which aren’t.

The ability to stay anchored in a core value while acknowledging current realities and differing perspectives creates space for the give and take of generative problem solving. And we could sure use some of that.

Today I commit to looking for all of the ways “and” can lead to new opportunities in my life. Will you join me?

What I love

I love sunrises and sunsets, the still of the early morning,
The way the light changes the color of the lake, the sound of lapping waves and rushing streams.

I love the squeaky crunch of fresh snow and the silence of snowflakes as they fall,
The burst of spring flowers, the smell of rain, warm sun on my face, and a soft breeze on my skin.

I love twinkling lights and the glow of candles and a crackling fire.

I love the deep exhale of sinking into bed at night, and the first sip of fresh hot coffee in the morning.

I love laughter, the faces of my kids bright with happiness, the safety of my husband’s embrace, and bear hugs.

Life is made up of fleeting precious moments if only we pause to notice.