Hush. Quiet down and listen. Something deep within you knows. The marrow of your bones holds the memory. It’s in your DNA, your cells, your depths, your deep and ancient mind…in the part of you that looks back back back and calls it up like the recollection of a blurry dream or childhood memory.
The sun-tide is about to turn.
This far, and no farther. The pendulum has swung to its extreme. The edge, the boundary, the limit has been reached. And you know. In your deep memory, you know.
A lifetime can seem like a long time. But it’s a blip, a fleeting thought, a passing breeze. Your life and mine is only one of many, the many who have walked this Sacred Earth before us. This time of so-called civilization is a tiny fraction of the history of humanity, which itself is a tiny fraction of the history of Life with a capital L.
So think back. Let the long-abandoned memory percolate up to your consciousness from deep down in your ancient mind. Remember eons and days, moments and centuries, back long before PCs and iPads, before cell phones and schedules, before cars and supermarkets and clocks and holy books and roads and towns and fields and plows….
The darkest, longest night is here, and although we huddle together for warmth, sharing what food we have saved from the autumnal bounty, hiding away from the icy winds, somehow we realize that we are near the turning point. Day by day, the sun slowly returns. We step back from the abyssal edge of death one more time. We rejoice.
Seeing the return of the sun, we know that primal joy of the spirit that preceded religious bliss by countless centuries and years. That joy is with us yet, somewhere in the deep memory of the double helix that tells the tale of our being. We touch it just a little this time of year, bidden or unbidden, recognized or not. But it is with us, as surely as is the physical legacy of our ancestors who are yet with us in the shape of a hand or the curve of a jawline, and who look back at us through our own eyes when we stare into the mirror.
Even in the midst of more modern holiday celebrations, pause this solstice and breathe into that ancient joy, that ancient knowing that leads us back from darkest winter to spring and summer along the labyrinth of growing light.
Blessings of the season to all.
Note to the reader: I’ll be taking a blog-holiday until after the new year. I’ll be back then with new thoughts to share. In the meantime, I may putter behind the scenes on the website. There is a lot yet to be done both here on the new site, and on the old site too. In the meantime, I wish you joy and peace.
Photo Credit: The labyrinth of light by flickr user ItzaFineDay at www.creativecommons.org