I wasn’t going to write a Solstice post this year. I posted the poem on Facebook and was going to call it a day. After all, I barely blog anymore (but, oh, I miss writing so so much), and what’s the point in writing the same thing I write every year?
But then amidst trying to do 623876 things and manage 987123 items on 8712 to-do lists, and being so tired and so mentally drained, all I wanted to do was write this post. Tradition, I guess. And that quieted part of me that yells, I need to write again!
So here we are. Solstice again. We made it. Now we move toward the light, and yet, it’s also winter now, which is the darkest times. It’s cold and dark and gray, and every day I am reminded that while I will never move for a whole host of reasons, I am not meant to live here. We are either moving toward the light or away from the light and all I want is a chunk of time IN the light.
Every year, on autopilot, I pull out this poem and read it, and smile to myself. But this year I practically got teary reading it – I READ it in a way I had never read it before. You know how you can KNOW something but sometimes something else tells it in a different way and it resonates in a way it never has before? That’s how it felt today.
My takeaway today was that the goal is not to not be in the darkness. The point is, when there is darkness, really hard and scary darkness, we can turn toward the sky where we know light will be someday. And breathe in deep and be thankful for the the inner strength we muster up to withstand the darkness, each moment, each day. We don’t give ourselves enough credit. I don’t give myself enough credit.
I don’t know, you guys, I can’t explain it well but I needed this more than I can explain. Hope it does something for some of you, also.
Happy, happy Solstice.
Towards the Light (author unknown)
By moonlight,
or starlight,
or in the sun’s bright rays,
I journey,
guiding my way
by keeping to the light
as best I can.
Sometimes all seems dark,
then I remember
how the poppy turns its head,
following the sun’s passage across the sky,
then rests in night’s cool shadows,
bowing in thanks
to whatever power
makes the stalk
stand straight and strong,
drawing deep from its roots
a wine dark love.
In moonlight,
the garden glows,
silvering the poppies.
And even by starlight
you can tell shades of darkness
if you try.
So do not lose heart
when vision dims.
Journey forth
as best you can—
bloom when you are able,
rest when you must,
keep your faith,
keep always
towards the light.
