The days are still turning shorter. And the late afternoon sunsets surprise me, arriving much sooner than I expect every single day. I go out at 3:30 in the afternoon expecting what I think of as mid-afternoon light only to see the slant of the sun low in the sky pouring golden light over everything
Like a Benediction.
Then the sun sets around 4:30 PM, with hardly enough time to enjoy the golden light. I’ve been trying to pay attention to the sunsets lately soaking in their beauty and light. One evening last week, the day after the pond had first frozen over, the light before sunset poured over the pond turning everything to shades of gold. “Fire and ice,” I exclaimed to myself. And I picked up my camera to make a few photos of the amazing light.
Even the seeds on the boxelder tree across the pond glowed like golden drops of light hung from the tree branches.
This time of year makes me think a lot about light and how we often take it for granted. Christmas lights are now decorating neighborhoods throughout the city and I embrace their cheerful beauty in this time of growing darkness.
The Leonid meteors find familiar paths across the November skies year after year, reminding us that we are made of very old light. The trees are now bare, revealing above us the majestic river of pale, milky light that we call our home among the countless galaxies. Harvest times are followed by times of sowing into dark places. The seasons are an exercise in following the Deep Song that animates everything. We live spring when it blooms, plunge into summer when it burns the earth, bend with the slow yielding to autumn, and finally let go completely in winter. At supper time, it is already dark. Windows light the way home. It is time to return to the ancient wells of the sacred traditions, and also to draw nourishment from our dreams. – Marv and Nancy Hiles (From The Almanac of the Soul)
As I age I am working on wholeheartedly receiving the darkness, realizing that this is a time to relax, replenish and embrace both the dark of the season and the aging process however it unfolds. Each day, no matter how short is a gift. This time of year I look for ways to brighten the days now that I’m spending less time out in nature. Yesterday afternoon I went looking for some flowers to bring home to photograph. I didn’t find any flowers that I liked. But I did discover these tiny gnome-like planters that I decided to bring home to decorate the mantle for Christmas. I’m thinking this may be the only decorating I do this year. Each year I feel more and more like simplifying, doing less to outwardly greet the holidays.
Light cannot see inside things.
That is what the dark is for:
Minding the interior,
Nurturing the draw of growth
Through places where death
In its own way turns into life.— John O’Donohue, from the poem ‘For Light’
Light and Shadows
This morning as I sat down in my favorite chair to read some poetry as the sun was shining through the window behind me. The light created shadows of the window screen on the pages of the poetry book I was reading and also shadows of branches outside the window. I used my phone camera to make photos of the interesting images the light and shadows created…
Noticing the light and shadows in these days of waning light is a way of celebrating the wholeness of life, light and dark always waning and waxing as the world turns.
May you receive the darkness and the light of this season, finding beauty and rest.
May you walk in beauty.
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