Winter solstice — the darkest day of the year, when night comes early and seems here to stay. There are times when the cold darkness finds its way through our protective barriers, seeping through windows and jackets right into our bones. Sometimes, right into our spirits.
Like grief at this time of year, darkness sometimes threatens to overwhelm us, blanketing the light of day. Anyone familiar with deep loss knows the blackness of the longest nights, when pain seems endless and unbearable, penetrating to our marrow no matter what we do to keep it at bay. Our sources of light and warmth seem lost to us, or impossibly far away.
Perhaps you are experiencing some of this now, as the surging pandemic and deepening winter make it even more challenging to keep flagging spirits warm. You may be increasingly isolated from family and friends in a season when you normally gather together. You may be forced by the cold short days to curtail already-limited activities that have been sustaining body, mind and spirit. You may feel tired and sluggish, everything an effort, with little motivation to continue rebuilding your shattered world. You may feel fear or despair that darkness is all there is.
In such moments, it may be helpful to remember and affirm that this darkest night of the year also marks the turning toward increasing light. From here, the days grow longer. We are moving back toward the sun. What a paradox, that even as we move into the coldest time of the year, we are moving toward the warmth of spring and summer. We still have to get through winter, but we are already on our way.
As a grief counselor, I know that this is also true for the longest nights of loss. Just like the earth on its ancient cycle of return, we naturally move through the blinding darkness of pain into the illuminating light of possibility. Over and over I have witnessed this: allowing ourselves to grieve, to truly experience the “winter of the soul” instead of trying to avoid it or fix it, is the turning point that keeps us moving toward greater light and warmth.
As a grief counselor, I also know that it is a very difficult, sometimes unbearable process. That when you are in the midst of your darkest night, it is impossible to believe there will ever be light. That when you feel stuck, it is hard to trust you are actually moving, much less moving forward. That when you are lost, it seems overwhelming to take a step in any direction.
In such moments, remember the Winter Solstice. Just as, on the darkest night of the year, powerful natural forces are moving the earth toward greater light, your darkest grief is a powerful natural force moving you toward the light of healing. In the words of poet Jan Richardson:
This is the night
when you can trust
that any direction
you go,
you will be walking
toward the dawn.
May your dark night be lit with stars of love, hope, and peace — illumination for your journey through whatever winter is upon you.
Photo Credit: Stefano Intintoli on Unsplash
Blessing for the Longest Night, excerpt
© Jan Richardson, from The Cure for Sorrow: A Book of Blessings for Times of Grief janrichardson.com
Read the full poem: http://adventdoor.com/2011/12/19/winter-solstice-blessing-for-the-longest-night/