According to the Celtic tradition, today’s Winter Solstice marks the beginning of the New Year. After the longest night has passed, the daylight lasts a little bit longer.
Many beautiful things have their beginning in the darkness. I think of the darkness that existed before anything else. Or the darkness of a mother’s womb and the new life that grows in darkness. The darkness of early morning when the rest of the world is still asleep and I’m peacefully alone with my thoughts feels inviting, soft & warm.
Silence is another part of this dark season. In places where it snows, the sound is muffled between the air pockets of snowflakes. If you’ve ever experienced the quiet of a snowy evening, you know how precious and nourishing it can feel.
Usually, when I work with the horses, I have a running one-sided conversation of “Good girl,” “Thank you,” or speaking my request out loud in an effort to make sure I’m being clear.
A friend challenged me to a day of silence which meant no “chatty Kathy” with the horses. I didn’t think it would make much difference. Boy was I surprised!
It felt odd to be quiet, but it also felt really good. I was amazed at how much more aware I was of my intention. Without the extra noise, I felt my body more and realized how much more space was created for clear communication.
It made me aware of how often I fill the silence. Whether it’s habit or discomfort makes no difference. What if I allowed Silence some space and relied more on the still, small voice inside me to communicate?
How often do you fill up silent spaces because if feels uncomfortable? Or turn the light on because you fear the dark?
On this Winter Solstice, what if we cultivate the silence and the darkness and explore how we’re able to tune in to ourselves–our dreams, our needs, our desires–just a little bit more? I wonder how that might change the coming year.
May you have darkness, silence, and peace on this Winter Solstice.
