It's Winter Solstice, the ancient time to celebrate the "birth" of the Sun in the Northern Hemisphere.
During the darkening of the Northern skies (beginning with the Summer Solstice), we retreat with Nature into the dark. Buds are withdrawn into thread-bare trees. Small mammals burrow. Some even hibernate. After shedding an organic layer to rot under the snow, Nature descends into slumber, darkness, and cold.
For millennia, humans have found meaning in connecting with this seasonal pattern. Indeed, for longer than history, humans have celebrated the waxing and waning of the Sun's altitude throughout the year, and found much analogy to their own experience.
In keeping with this tradition (and as a pathological minister), I want to reflect on this a bit.
Our own lives are also waxing and waning in light, though with far less predictability. The regular orbital path of the Earth (and a fairly regular axial tilt) provides a sense of structure, promise, and hope—Spring is coming.
Now, at the Winter Solstice, we celebrate the birth of this promise. Our coldest days are yet ahead, but each day is now getting longer, and each night shorter. In the womb of darkness, the flames of Yule are lit. The Sun will spend three months (days, in some esoteric traditions) in the tomb, and Resurrect at the Spring Equinox.
This time of year can be especially difficult for the Crowned Ones. Ice is slippery, and bones are brittle. Life is dark and cold enough, and the elements can amplify this. We should as a community make sure our elderly family members are safe, warm, fed, and as accompanied as each prefers.
Because this time of year comes with gathering together for warmth and light, it's also especially difficult for the grieving and the lonely. The weight of an empty room is amplified by the silence. As a community, let's be sure to occupy the empty spaces that have been opened to us, and make space for the displaced. Keep company with the lonely. Share the burden of grief where you can spare some heart. Make a sweater and some hot cocoa for the widow. Ten minutes of phone scrolling can be rewarding, but a ten minute phone call can be warmer than a Yule log burning at the hearth.
Though death and decay are an inevitable part of living, and though we can find (and share) rest and warmth even in the depths of Winter, the buds and blossoms come around too, and we're now heading that direction 🌄
Whether you celebrate Yule, Christmas, Chanukah, Mawlid al Nabbawi, Kwanzaa, or any other celebration of the Light's Birth, I wish you and yours the most wonderful Holy-Days.
#yule2023 #yule #christmas #chanukah #mawlidalnabbawi #kwanzaa #light #life #grief #sleep #warmth #community #celebrate #winter #wintersolstice #paganism #atheopaganism
Image Credit: gdizerega on Pixabay
Image Description: A black-and-white ink drawing of the sun rising in the valley between two snow-covered mountains. A forest of snow-covered pine trees stretches from the mountains towards you until it disappears beneath the horizon of the hill you're standing on. To your right are two small birds sitting on a snow covered branch, sticking out of the snow. The sun's rays fill the entire sky with alternating straight and sine lines
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