The sun is cutting a low arc across the Southern horizon in this December time.
The days are short and the darkness is long.
For years, I have wished away November and December and January, longing for the longer days again.
I love the light. I love the wide, long days, with the sun high overhead.
I love the warmth and the color of the longer days.
I have wished away the darkness without ever exploring it, or welcoming it.
Today, as I watch the shallow arc of the sun as it cruises along the empty farm field south of us, I am asking myself: What is the gift of short days, and darkness?
It is an interior time, a time of the unknown, and of not being able to see.
It is a time of resting, waiting, anticipation, and incubation. This farm field is waiting, and resting.
We don’t tend to value resting very much in our Western culture. It is ok, and needed, to rest when you have pushed yourself too far, but to choose to rest, merely as part of the process of everyday living, or of the creative cycle? That is not valued so much, and perhaps even considered lazy.
I haven’t valued resting very much, myself. And I certainly haven’t valued darkness.
I haven’t even explored darkness, or embraced it. I’ve been too busy pushing it away, and wishing for the light.
So, today, as I watch the sun move towards an early sunset, I vow to myself to be open to what is available in the darkness. How is the darkness calling me?
What is the opportunity, in darkness?
Leave a Reply