Greetings from the Darkness

It's the holidays again, when many of us participate, with varying degrees of enthusiasm, in rituals of sending Christmas cards, attending parties, and connecting with friends and relatives. As a new wife, I've found myself reflecting with a chuckle on the sentiments expressed over the years: "oh, time to do that again," or some variation of fatigue at these "forced" social overtures. I totally get it. Nobody likes to be social out of a sense of obligation, and no doubt, the receiver of said overture might not be pleased to know that their friends' visits, calls and well-wishes were less than enthusiastic. We all would like to participate in a world where our interactions with others are always enthusiastic. At least, I would.

Since my early 20's I've wrestled with this, sometimes being extremely diligent with Christmas rites, and other times totally missing friends' birthdays. Some years, I confess, I opted out of Christmas gift-giving, not for mere lack of enthusiasm, but out of revulsion at the idea of giving out of obligation. In my late 20's, I sort of white-knuckled my way through, believing that consistent participation in Christmas rites was a sign of adulthood.

At the same time, I've always sensed that this time, around the winter solstice, has its own kind of magic apart from any religious overtones. It is the darkest time of year, and we can't help but notice some of its effects. We may feel more tired than usual and/or crave quiet times at home, watching movies or snuggling under a cozy blanket. We crave bright lights and music, but we also crave simplicity and peace. We experience more than ever the paradoxical desire for the comforts of the world, and the strength of being at peace with stillness, darkness, and uncertainty. We want to celebrate at one moment, and meditate the next.

In ancient pagan religions, the solstice was a time to honor the darkness as well as the return of the sun. We carry this tradition in some ways today, as we kindle fires and Christmas lights as a reminder of brighter days to come. We look back over the year, as this is a natural time to pause and remember the past. We remember those who have come and gone from our lives, and how we ourselves have changed and grown.

I imagine many people feel this, to varying degrees, and I think they must because it is reflected in our yearly traditions. As for me, I do feel drawn to connect to old friends, new friends, and relatives this time each year. It is dark now, and cold, and I want to ask them, "how are you? Has the year treated you well? How does this darkness feel to you? And what do you hope for in the year to come?" As I write my Christmas cards I let my heart speak these messages. And before I know it, my stack of cards is done, ready to be sent out. These are not just obligatory pieces of paper; they are a token signifying that we have thought about each other, that we are connected, even - nay, especially - in the darkest times.