Fill Your Heart with Light these Longest Nights

The days before, during, and after Winter Solstice are among my favorite times of the year. I love the way the light slices through the bare maples and alights on the hemlock needles. I love how the princess pines and moss glow green against patches of snow; I love the birds that are up before dawn excited to forage on the lawn before it is sealed up for Winter. I love hunting for Christmas trees with Declan, and it always brings me deep joy to cut boughs to make an evergreen spiral in the yoga barn for Winter Solstice. 

I love that Nature is a bit indecisive right now, and that she expresses a full range of atmospheric emotions (not unlike myself during the Holidays, haha). From rain to snow, ice and crisp blue sky to thick fog and a swell of rivers, from the pink blush of sunrise to the radiant red of our recent sunsets–not to mention the cosmic arrays of the past week: glittering stars, the Geminid meteors, and this gorgeous waxing moon–Nature has certainly worn “the colors of [my] spirit” (Emerson) this month. Even though the power is still out here after yesterday’s deluge of rain, and it’s not going to be the white Christmas I was hoping for, I feel pretty lucky that I am alive to feel the pulse of Nature and the Cosmos.

Winter Solstice is a time to connect deeply, not only with Mother Earth and our own physicality as human beings but to connect (or reconnect) deeply with what is beyond our skin and our thinking mind…to reach out and really sense, feel, and believe that we are part of the expansive and infinitely creative Universe. 

How do we do this? 

I’ve learned that for me the first thing is to slow down. To actually stop long enough to connect with my senses: to feel the raindrops on my skin; listen to the wind rattling the last clinging beech leaves; stick my nose into a Christmas tree and breathe deeply; to feel the suck of the mud under my boots or to withstand the bone-chilling midnight cold long enough to stand under the stars and see a meteor streak the blue-black velvet sky. Maybe it’s just to have a cup of tea and sit in a stream of sunlight. It’s all so good if we slow down enough to consider that we have been given a miraculous chance to inhabit a human body with all of these ridiculously wonderful sensory organs. And who is the inhabitant? Aye, there’s the Divine rub! 

It’s been my long-time practice to get up in the pre-dawn of Winter Solstice and experience the coming light of the day, with all of its promise of the returning light–the literal and the figurative. And that light might be a minute more daylight each day, but it is also a deep and profound longing for light in a world that can seem cruel, unfair, and sometimes hopelessly dark. Keeping our hearts in the cosmic light and sharing this light and light-ness with others can raise the vibration of all who share our spaces. So we light candles, we stand around bonfires, we sit by Christmas tree lights and perch on fireplace hearths. We gather to share light amidst the darkness, and this helps us to stay centered in the heart, to cultivate hope, and it gives us full permission to choose joy even though it might co-exist with the hard things for us to fathom like war, homelessness, all manners of abuse, any kind of hatred or fear caused by the depths of any one person’s despair. It’s a good time of the year to practice forgiveness–and forgiving ourselves as much as we might need to forgive some other soul. This practice has helped me to grow a LOT of light in my own heart. Because it feels so good, I’m committed to this practice of staying in my “heart-light,” not just during the longest nights of the calendar year, but in every season. It truly is an inside job… but it has so much radiance, it can, does, and will affect how you experience love and light in your own life.

Whether it’s snowing, raining, foggy, or clear, the light of morning always comes through and eventually illuminates the array I am so blessed to experience. And when the sun dips down low and leaves a pink glow on the mountains, I stop to let that glow fill my eyes and my heart. Daylight is especially precious when there is less of it. I’m taking conscious steps to raise my awareness of light–everywhere and every way I experience it. Sidebar: I recently watched the short film series “All the Light We Cannot See.” The title is what I’m talking about. Intrigued? Watch it. Quite amazing and wonderful, although I hear the book is exquisite in comparison.

And so, an invitation or two:

As always, those who love yoga are welcome to join me for a sunrise yoga practice at Dragonfly Yoga Barn around the evergreen spiral (5:45 am arrival, 6 am start), followed by potluck breakfast in our farmhouse. Later on that evening, we have the wonderful Steven Bachmann & Gabby Casey offering a “Soul-stice” Sound Medicine Journey here at Dragonfly @ 7 pm. We have just a few spots left in that experience!

Regardless of yoga classes or events, the invitation is here for all of us to greet the light each day. I invite you (and myself!) to go for a walk among the illuminated trees, stand in the sun and see the trails of your breath in the invisible air, dip your fingers or toes (or whole body!) into a frigid river and feel the swirling passage of water and light over your skin, sit on a rock or a park bench for a few minutes, and let the shadows and sunshine show us that all things shift, change, pass, and are reborn.

The longest nights are upon us. Time to settle in and settle down a bit whether with our peeps, to gather and share our heart lights, or maybe to sit with our own inner light and just go solo for awhile. Whatever it looks like for you, I hope the next week or so of Solstice time helps you top-up your your heart’s well with so much light and love!

Peace, blessings, and love,

Katie

❤️