Winter Light
December flowed over me like a light when it dims, imperceptibly at first, then like a hurtling freight train. A fog had enveloped our valley. A finger of it had wound itself around a lamppost. The light was dimmed. The tea kettle whistling drew my attention to the hour:
it was seven o’clock in the morning. Still dark. A half an hour later, a murky greyness appeared at my window.
At eight o’clock light descended upon the fog, a silky white now. A soft, swirling white. It was a thick tule fog. This one did not burn off. By four o’clock in the afternoon, the process reversed itself. By five o’clock, a long night had begun.
I was determined to make this winter more beautiful and meaningful than ever for my family and for myself. A challenge to be sure, what with these deary days and long, starless nights. The tea kettle was simmering all day and throughout the evening. The aroma of tasty treats baking in the oven or setting out to cool filled the senses with cinnamon and cloves, allspice and nutmeg, perfect antidotes to starlessness. Or a chocolate goodness that decorated the tea saucer with a configuration that mimicked love. But what really warmed us from the inside out were the savory stews, boeuf bourguignon, stroganoff, potato latkes, ricotta filled blintzes, turkey with cranberries, chili, cabbage soup or chicken-vegetable soup, baked apples, and warm pumpkin pie. Such delights put off the winter chill that crept through every crack and crevice in every room and opened door, and sent shivers throughout a house trying to stay warm in a world grown dark.
The lights of each holiday sparkled and shown, staving off a world grown completely dark as the freight train hurtled to the solstice. The more candles, the better. The more holiday lights, the more joy. Holiday decorations, full of light, glitter, shiny silver and splendid gold, became a feast for the eyes that craved sunlight, now in scarce supply. Shimmering clothing that whirled and twirled to the music of the holidays stood in for the sunlight for awhile. We were reminded to be joyous even in the dark because winter would recede and the sunlight would return. But not yet.
So we gathered in parties, with families, enjoying the foods, the lights, the decorations of the holidays. We joined forces to create more light, more laughter, more shimmering dances. We feasted upon the aromas and rich tastes of winter and regaled one another with stories, with song. For a time, we brightened the dark nights.
Why is light so very important to us? We need light to make Serotonin, the neurotransmitter that keeps our mood happy, and when it is missing, can leave us sad or even depressed. We need full-spectrum sunlight to keep up our supplies of vitamin D. Our bodies actually need light. Light quite literally makes us happy and strong. Light keeps the glow inside.
The long, lonely winter nights were opportunities for gratitude, for reminiscing about the year past, for dreaming about the coming year – what we hope for, what we want to create in our lives. Gratitude and dreams made us happy, appreciative. Winter was an ideal time for taking stock of life. Without the distractions of the other seasons, I found it a lovely time to curl up with a notebook, look over my goals for the year past, and begin to imagine the year ahead.
I made notes about where I wanted to go with my life. In this dark, sometimes dreary time of year, tomorrow’s seeds had time to gestate. I took time to think about how I was going to get to those goals, to gather the resources I would need. I did second, even third drafts until the joy I felt was tangible. Then I started to put the first steps in place. Doing this kind of meaningful work on myself and my life made me feel joyously in touch with my soul, and slowly the days lengthened – the light returned.
Winter is the soul-searching time of year, a time when we search after the light of the soul. You see, light has more than one meaning.
And while the physical light of the sun recedes for a time, the light of the soul grows brighter, stronger. The lesser lights glisten in winter. They are there for us to contemplate to meditate upon, to grow quiet inside, and with these lesser lights, the light of the soul grows more powerful.
Winter begins as a slowly dimming light. We coax ourselves with sweet aromas and savory tastes of winter, we add lights, music, décor that is bright and shimmers in the night as we hurtle toward the solstice, and then, with the light at a minimum, we grow the soul light brighter as we appreciate our past and plan for our futures. We begin to make our dreams a reality while the days lengthen.