Solstice blessings
The magic of our longest night
Greetings friends, from the Winter Solstice here in the Northern Hemisphere.
As the last whisps of daylight vanish and this longest night flares her dark skirts, I have lit a fire and I’m ready to share the warmth with you.
I admit: Out of the assortment of holidays that cluster the calendar this month, the solstice is my favorite. Today. Tonight. It’s enchanting. I love winter and I love the date that ushers it in. I celebrate the magic of darkness when it wraps around us on this longest night of the year.
Do you celebrate Earth-based holidays, too? As our planet spins her silent way through the cosmos, we are pulled inexorably into a new season, again and again. It’s always a season we’ve lived before but each time, somehow, it’s fresh and pure. A miracle.
Our ancestors also marked these dates. They watched the seasons come and go. At this time of year, they saw the waning light of each day, the last bronze beech leaves, the shivering winds. Their deep connection to the cycles of Earth helped them orient themselves to the wheel of the year. It bound their souls to the land.
The petroglyphs
Today, during a solstice hike, I stood on a massive granite outcrop in these mountains where I live. With friends, I had walked a couple of miles to get there. On the way, we passed a lot of broken trees, their bodies scattered like tinker toys—the heartbreaking ruins of Helene.
But the air was chilly, the sky a flawless blue canvas. One could not ask for a more beautiful winter solstice day. And when we emerged from the forest onto a ridgetop clearing, my heart soared.
For centuries, this rock has been scoured by wind and water, the rough hand of time. Moss and lichen speckle the stone.
In this place are petroglyphs, crude symbols etched into the unyielding surface of the rock. Mute messages from people long before us. I reached down to trace them with my finger. I could imagine a Cherokee brave squatting in this exact spot, a sharpened stone in his hand, the shadows suggesting an outline for his drawing.
I could also imagine the sun setting across the ridge, as the brave used his flint and handfuls of dry moss to light a fire on the granite. Maybe he sat next to that fire and watched a sliver of a solstice moon ride the treetops.
Maybe he knew, instinctively, that this would be the longest night of the year. A time of darkness and magic. A night when his fire would provide the only warmth.
Maybe he understood, as we do, that light will return. It always does. We need not fear.
Happy Solstice, my friends. May your fires burn brightly. May your heart welcome the darkness as well as the light.
I've always enjoyed the winter solstice because of the promise of lighter days and the coming spring. This year, though, the darkness has not bothered me as much. We've had a warmer December overall here in NW Oregon though our coldest temps tend to come in January and early February.
Blessings to you and yours this holiday season!
Happy Solstice Jean. Interesting about the petroglyphs as well.