Slivers of solstice light

I don’t much like the dark. My mind conjures endless bad things that might be, could be, likely are, lurking in its depths. Give me a light, even a sliver of light, and my breath comes easier, my pulse slows down, I can deal with the lesser dark that that sliver of light creates.

So it is with the winter solstice: In the northern hemisphere, every December 21st brings with it that teeny tiny sliver of additional light and the promise it holds. I wrote last year about how, incrementally, the light returns to our days after we mark this point in the year. With each year that passes, I appreciate this day more. And, as the years pass, I am learning that light comes into my life in many different ways. Yes, the sun, of course. But also an act of kindness brings light into my day. Or a meaningful exchange with someone well known or not so familiar to me. A laugh brought on by smart humour. Or a moment of joy from the power of music to move me. All these experiences can bring if not actual light, then a feeling of lightness. And that, in the darkness of a northern winter, is to be appreciated.

So it was with a friend’s recent Facebook post. Gary and I did our master’s together and I love seeing his photos of nature and animals on his page. The other day, however, he shared a post featuring humans, friends of his, who needed help raising funds for some medical equipment. In this world of unending issues and no easy answers, it caught my attention for its achievable objective: If someone like me didn’t just scroll past but took a minute or two to read the story, to connect with my heart and to act with my credit card, a concrete change could be made in this couple’s life, in this very month. That immediacy spoke to me and I acted. My donation was tiny, but small is beautiful and acting together we can move mountains. It seems the couple’s original objective has been not just reached but surpassed and the life-changing equipment can now be ordered. And that is more than a sliver of light coming into this world; that is a giant sun rising on a new day.

This solstice, I welcome the few seconds of new light the day will bring. Even as the dark days continue into January and beyond, I hold the hope in my heart for more and for brighter lightness of every kind across this world of ours. 

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Land acknowledgement: I respectfully recognize that I live on the original lands of Anishinaabe, Cree, Oji-Cree, Dakota and Dene peoples, and on the homeland of the Métis Nation.

Photo by Anne Nygård on Unsplash