The Return of the Light

 

As the Winter Solstice slides away behind us and our Earth begins another annual circuit, twirling daily on her axis as she travels around the sun, it seems only well and good to take a few moments contemplating what we are leaving behind and what we are entering into with this new Return of the Light.  As of today, the days will be getting a little longer and the nights will each become progressively shorter until we reach our new year's Summer Solstice, six months from now.  

I would like to suggest that we take a little time to first honor some of the darker experiences we've each felt, both personally and collectively, from this past year.  Winter is a time when some of us hibernate.  We can all set aside a little time to go within. 

Perhaps you'd like to write something down that you are willing to let go of and then release it.  Maybe the recycling bin would be the perfect vessel to receive it, or it could be buried in the garden, or using good fire safety, it could be carefully burned over the kitchen sink.  It's good to consciously let go of whatever we no longer wish to have in our lives.  This year, I'm burning any and all limitations to our arising human consciousness, that which understands and fully honors the absolute sacredness of all life on earth.  

Then, while still in personal private ceremony, we can begin this new journey, into the increasing light of the coming year, by honoring and calling to us all that we would love to see and do and think and feel.  I like to use my five senses when I am imagining what I'd like to manifest in my life.  

We can ask ourselves, "What would my body love to do?  How would that feel?  What does it smell like, taste like, sound like?"  If it is walking on the beach more often, can I imagine seeing the crashing of the waves on the shore, can I hear the seabirds call and smell the good salt sea spray?  And then, when I get to the beach, I try to consciously remember all of that and take it all in.

We can seek new experiences and awarenesses on every level of our being, be they spiritual, mental, emotional or physical.  And we can ask for help.  I used to call on the spirit of Domingo, an old Portuguese friend of mine, who could build anything out of nothing.  Whenever I've needed some help with a project, I've called him to me and there I suddenly see just exactly what is needed to finish my work.

So, think of a change that you would like to see happening in your life.  While these days are still quite short, realize that we see differently in the dark.  Ask for help from spirit if you feel like you could use it.  Let yourself have a little quiet time to visualize what you'd like to see in the coming New Year.   

Go ahead and ask, "What is a new pattern that I would like to see in my life?  or in the world?"  "What changes can I easily make to improve my stability or balance or my level of health?  or the health of those around me?  or the health of our planet?"  "What would I love to see in my life?"  "What would help me to bloom?"

It is important for us to wake up to what we love and what we long for.  This can help us to look within to see where our joy and purpose lie.  It is good to take the time to listen for whatever miracles may be available to open up for you.  We don't often need to know more than the next two or three steps ahead.  But if we pay those heed and meet their needs, often the rest of the path will open up before us.

As Rumi said,

Listen, make a way for yourself, inside yourself.

 

(painting by my friend Aya, The Stairs to Dinky Creek) 

 

 

Finding Clarity

I had the good fortune to visit a dear old friend this past week.  A familiar pathway through the woods, a venerable old oak, a clump of crocuses pushing their colorful heads up through the cold ground, for those of us who are nature lovers, these can feel in our heart of hearts, like some of our most cherished friends.

During last week's winter storm pattern, nearly a foot of snow fell in Yosemite valley.  It was stunningly beautiful.  The sheer granite walls scraping the sky were bedecked with brilliant white caps and their every dark craggy overhang was contrasted sharply with a line of white snow.

With all of this grand glory surrounding, I went to the southernmost end of the valley to visit my humble and quiet old friend, Fern Spring.  She lay there tucked in her tiny swale surrounded by a deep blanket of snow.  Black and reflective, still and yet quietly flowing, she greeted me with a knowing smile. 

Snow and ice were everywhere.  The roads were frozen over with plowed and compacted snow.  The walking paths were lumpy and slippery affairs.  Sheets of thick ice formed and broke up and reformed in the shallows along the banks of the nearby dark Merced River.  But little fern spring sheltered by the boughs of overhanging branches remained clear and flowing, dark and full of depth in her shallow little rock lined spring box.

I carefully stepped over the large clods of rough and tumbled snow that lined the road and into the deep white footsteps of others who had come to visit her in her winter bower.  I whispered a little prayer of greeting and took a few steps closer.  There, by the edge of her tiny waterfall and minute creek I was startled by the duality of the reflected cloud filled sky overhead and the dark chrystal clear shallow depth of her little pond.  Layers of oak leaves still and quiet, lying right where they had slowly fallen, lined her bottom, their five darkening fingers reaching out in different directions.  The uppermost of these still held some of their red brown fall colors, the deeper ones had become a black brown with the thin layers of soft sediment that they were merging with from underneath.

As I gazed at this understated spectacle of contrast and clarity before me, I asked a question that has long served me well, "Do you have a message for me?"  I immediately heard in my mind, "You always get your greatest clarity by going within."  So true.  Once we learn to quiet the "shoulds" and push away the conflicting voices of the good and bad opinions of others, our own true sense of what we want or need to think or do in every moment shines brilliantly through. 

So, here, while standing on the doorstep of our brand new year, may we all find our way to the deeper understanding that comes to us when we seek a little time apart and quietly go within. 

© Josephine Laing, 2016