The December Sky

The quiet of winter is settling in. These days after the Winter Solstice and Christmas are peaceful. The holiday rush has passed. The big family meals have been prepared, served, and cleared away from the holiday table. What remains, sits in colorful little containers to be devoured in happy little bits.

I love these quiet days, but I especially love the nights. Last night, I returned home quite late after a small spontaneous party at the home of a dear friend. I stepped outside with the dog into the frosty night. Looking up at the sky, it seemed as though a billion new stars had arrived on the scene. The crescent moon was tipped on its side and sat looking like a cradle awaiting the birth of new life.

In New England, the night sky is at its most elegant in December. It is the crowning glory of winter. The December moon is extraordinary in all of its phases. The full moon seems to be more full. The half moon seems to shine more brightly, and the sliver of new moon dominates the night sky, despite its diminutive size. These moons are so potent that they linger at daybreak and remain as the sun rises high in the sky. They hover over the landscape on a backdrop of brilliant blue.

Waiting is a theme in December. In the Christian tradition, advent is the period of time leading up to the celebration of the birth of the Christ child on Christmas. The pagans were awaiting the return of the light at the time of the Winter Solstice. December is a good time to pose the question; what is it that we are waiting for?  It is a time for contemplation.  The quiet offers us ample opportunity to take this time. What can we learn from these moons? What can we learn from the experience of living through long periods of darkness?  Where do we find light during these dark days?

The December sky serves as a stunning reminder to look inward. It is an opportunity to rest from the frenetic pace of daily life. The new year will soon be upon us.  Step outside and turn your gaze upward toward the heavens. You will find something there. 

Winter Solstice

Good Morning,

The Winter Solstice has finally arrived. It is 5 a.m. and incredibly dark outside. When I stepped outdoors and looked up at the sky, there wasn’t a star in sight. Cloud cover obscured the little sliver of moon. An occasional flake of snow fell and instantly melted on my skin. Looking back at the house, the Christmas tree lights were ablaze in the bay window. Candles were lit in all the other windows, and the ornamental tree by the front door was covered with small white lights. It was the only light to be found in this inky darkness. At this hour, it seemed to be the only light in the world.

The days are especially short in this area of New England. Yesterday afternoon it was nearly dark by 4:15. We had taken a drive to the coast to watch the gunmetal gray waters of the ocean churn and roll. The sky was overcast. The busy beach houses of summer where vacant. The mood was somber. There was a large ship anchored firmly off the coast. I wondered what it is like for the people living on that ship who endure the cold and darkness for such great lengths of time. Perhaps, the sea gives them comfort.

We all seek an anchor of some sort at this dark time of year. Some turn to their faith. Many spiritual traditions celebrate important holidays at this time. Some turn to family. Others plunge into their work, vices, or douse themselves in material goods. Moods plummet, irritability is evident on the roads, and people talk about how they feel overwhelmed, tired, or stressed.

Finding an anchor is key. After our ocean drive we found a small restaurant overlooking a coastal inlet. There was just enough light left to see that the tide was low. It was beautiful. We ate lobster pie and talked about the changes we have seen in our world. We felt extremely fortunate to be there enjoying the warmth, the view, and the nourishing food. We had found our anchor.

Tonight, there is a celebration of the solstice hosted by friends who live beside a brook on an old mill site. There will be a potluck supper and a great roaring fire in the fireplace. There will be a time to offer a poem, reading, or song to the group.  Later, we will go outside and a big bonfire will be lit. This annual event serves as another kind of anchor that will help tether us to the earth.

Tomorrow the light will slowly begin to return. We are ready and waiting

December's Darkest Days

Good Morning,

Here in the New England, the darkest days of the year have arrived. Sometimes it seems as though we are crawling toward the Winter Solstice. The added craziness of the upcoming holidays can cause us to feel overwhelmed and exhausted. There is pressure to be happy, to spend time with our ‘perfect’ family, and to feel joy. Instead, some feel the loss of those who are no longer with us, the financial strain of the season, and the sheer exhaustion resulting from the accelerated pace of seasonal activities.

For many, holiday tradition involves spending time together with our family. A holiday meal or some other special activity is planned. This can draw added attention to how challenging our families can be. Family problems don’t take a holiday vacation. Those who have lost loved ones feel this deeply. The empty chair at the holiday table can be unbearable. Families, who have experienced some sort of heartbreaking estrangement, now have to face that fact squarely. A recent divorce, a family member with mental illness, substance addiction, or a rift between siblings, can hang in the air like a dark cloud.

How can we manage all of this? How do we find a sense of peace in the midst of so much that challenges us? How do we avoid a holiday meltdown?  What is this season really about?

Every year, I ponder these questions. I have learned to try to manage the holiday schedule more reasonably. Sometimes we just have to say no, even when we want to say yes. A night spent quietly at home offers us an opportunity to find our center. Quiet time, adequate sleep, and attention to what we are eating, can be enormously beneficial. In this culture, everything about the season takes us away from those things.

This morning, I felt a bit overwhelmed. It was dark and cold. The ‘to do’ list was looming, the laundry piling up, and the schedule at work was frantic. It all began to feel impossible. I headed out with the dog for the ritual early morning walk. Five minutes into our walk, a soft snow began to fall. The birds could be heard singing in the distance. Walking by the old farmhouse up the street, huge white flakes of snow were highlighted against the dark red of the barn. The bare branches of trees and shrubs were now visible. Perched on the branch of a nearby tree, a male cardinal was displaying his brilliant plumes. Suddenly, I found myself fully in the moment.

This was the deep peace I had been longing for.

A Tree Planting

A Tree Planting

Dear Jon,
It may seem
with time, that we begin
to forget, that we let the mind numb a little,
that new seasons blow in unrooted
to seasons that have passed.
But that is only seeming.

What we are really doing is
taking you slowly, piece by piece,
into ourselves; your pain is moving
into our bones; your smile is becoming
the way we walk; your song
becoming the way we read a book;
your stride is becoming
the way we feel about living.
Everything you are is finding its way
into the face and the body we turn to others.

You know all this without trying,
but it comes hard to us, who are only living.
And so we plant this tree in one of the places
where you were alive, because
we need to tell ourselves what you already know.

This tree too will take you up
from the traffic of this field
into its roots and into its branches and leaves,
and become a comfort to us,
and to everyone who comes here,
because it will keep saying and keep saying
the thing you believe:
that death and life
can only grow together.

                                                                     Sidney Hall Jr.

Written in memory of Jonathan, for the fifth grade tree planting.

December Light

December 1, 2014



Good Morning,

It is the first day of December and we feel the result of the waning light in our daily lives. This morning I sit with a candle lit as the darkness still presses against the windows.

It seems as though the human being responds to this event on a deep level. Looking at the religious traditions of cultures across the world, it is not hard to find evidence of this phenomenon. The Hindus celebrate the festival of Diwali, which is also called the Festival of Lights. It signifies the victory of light over darkness, good over evil, and knowledge over ignorance. This five-day festival is celebrated with many rituals. Lanterns are lit inside and outside the home, prayers are offered, special foods are prepared, and gifts are given. In the Jewish tradition, Hanukkah is celebrated over a period of eight nights. A candle is lit each night on the menorah. Families gather, special foods are prepared, Hanukkah games are played, and prayers are recited. In the Christian tradition, candles are placed on a circular Advent wreath. One candle is lit on each of the four Sundays during Advent. On the Sunday before Christmas, all of the candles are burning. It is interesting to note that none of these traditions occur on a fixed date. They are all movable and occur during the darkest time of the year.

In our household, we have always followed the tradition of the Advent wreath. It is fun to go outdoors to gather the greens and then to put the wreath together. The candles are lit in the morning to signify the beginning of the new day. They are also lit during meals throughout the advent season. As yesterday was the first Sunday of Advent, only the first of the four candles is burning this morning. It is a comfort and provides a way to center oneself before the activities of the day commence.

We are still digging out from our first snowstorm of the season. It proved to be quite destructive. It was wet and heavy, which created a burden that was too much to bear for many of our trees and shrubs. Limbs fell, resulting in widespread power outages. Candles were our salvation during the storm. During the night, the sound of breaking and falling limbs was eerie. Living without power was a trial. There was no heat, water, or indoor plumbing. Much of the food in the refrigerator was lost. The snow was wet and heavy for shoveling, which made for aching backs. Fallen limbs needed to be tended to, and trees needed a good shake to prevent further damage. It was exhausting. Due to the lack of electricity, Thanksgiving was postponed for many families. Others simply cooked what they could on the grill.

Human beings are adaptable. We struggle and do our best to cope with challenging situations. It is no a surprise that so many spiritual traditions adopted festivals to help them gather the strength to manage this darkness. These are the things that feed the soul.

The sun is now up. There are brilliant streaks of fuchsia and pale blue just above the horizon. The strength harnessed from the candlelight this morning will provide the necessary nourishment to carry me through the new day.