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The warm red darkness centers on a flickering fire. Christmas lights on the mantel cast a gentle aura on the wall. Candles bob and dance. My soul savors the timelessness of sitting and watching, savoring the soft sound of carols on the radio.
Back in September, when we observed the equinox, I was a little sad. Daylight was losing the competition and darkness was asserting its dominance for another six months. I forget from year to year how much I love midwinter. I love getting up before the sun, before the neighbors, long before my husband the night person. I love the quiet. I love the beauty of lights when darkness prevails, and the power of song when eyesight is muted.
The call to action is less compelling in the dark. I am content to be, not just to do. I sense the connection of my life with Life itself. I let go of thought and embrace experience. I feel the heartbeats settle and the breath even out...inhale-exhale.
The Christmas story fits so well in this midwinter setting. Cold, darkness, holiday travel, crowded lodgings, and paying taxes set the stage. A kind innkeeper and patient livestock offer refuge to a young pregnant woman and her husband. Angels and shepherds and wise men complete the picture. Almost.
Before dawn in Bethlehem, a baby is born. His message will change the world for those who hear it with an open heart. Before dawn in Missoula, I listen for messages with an open heart. They are easier to discern in the deep quiet of midwinter darkness, when life's other demands are muffled by the shadows.
It is the winter solstice. I celebrate its place in the cycle of my year. I am tempted to feel a little sad, as daylight asserts itself and starts its trek toward dominance. But then I remember, "to everything there is a season and a time for every purpose under heaven." Rising with the sun will have its own charm; but, for now, I revel in darkness.
What are the gifts of midwinter for you?
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