The gift of Winter Solstice:
Today marks the shortest and darkest day of the year. I interpret this offering as a permission slip for rest. The holiday season tends to fill our cups with so much “yang.” This evening, I look forward to preserving the offered space for some much needed “yin.”
Divorce - in its unboxing- oddly offers a similar sentiment. For me, it forced me to let go of so much I was holding onto. Once I learned to sit still through those uncomfortable spaces of void and darkness, I discovered relief and some much needed restoration. I still practice that ‘letting go,’ whether that’s letting go of the image I had for my family on a holiday card, or letting go of the weight a calendar date holds for shared parenting time with my children.
Mary Oliver said it best in one of my favorite quotes:
“Someone I loved once gave me a box full of darkness. It took me years to understand that this too, was a gift.”
I witnessed the delivery of one of those boxes last week. A friend of mine recently received notice that her divorce decree had been signed and finalized. The notice came through a cold form of electronic legalese. The contrast she noticed between the nonchalant communication of her finalized divorce and her body’s reaction was familiar to me:
“This hit hard.”
I responded with recognition: “Yes, the blow of nothingness. I see you there, friend. I’m sending my love.”
I didn’t send her light. Just love. This is a practice I’ve discovered useful in both supporting friends and my children through hardship, thanks to Brené Brown’s work. Brené Brown’s anecdotal story of sitting with her child in a moment of heartache has secured a special place in my heart forever. When people we care about are sad, we often want to help with our fixing tools and light-switches. She references this in consoling her heartbroken daughter:
“Our go-to as parents is to make everything better. We want to flip on the lights. But our job is to teach our kids that it is okay to be sad and to sit in the dark with them . . . Darkness does not destroy light - it defines it.” - Brené Brown
While no one wants to remain stuck in those places of darkness forever, I’ve found it important to recognize their value from time to time. Divorce for me felt as if I were moving through a tunnel, making my way toward the light. Pema Chödrön, former nun and Tibetian Buddhist, helped me through this during my divorce transition in her book, The Places That Scare You: A Guide to Fearlessness in Difficult Times:
“When we touch the center of sorrow, when we sit with discomfort without trying to fix it, when we stay present to the pain of disapproval or betrayal and let it soften us, these are times that we connect with bohdichitta. . . . Only when we know our own darkness well can we be present with the darkness of others. Compassion becomes real when we recognize our shared humanity.” - Pema Chödrön
During the holiday season, evenings grow longer. Light enters in the form of flickers, glimmers, and twinklings, often in the spirit of shared humanity. On this dark winter evening, I extend a gentle invitation to anyone who might appreciate a quiet moment of stillness and rest - even if just for a minute. I plan to light a candle in appreciation of shadows in the contrasting glow of the light.
I recently discovered the word, “apricity.” Apricity is the warmth of the sun in winter. Who doesn’t love that feeling? Starting tomorrow, the days begin to get lighter, and our horizons may begin to look brighter. It will be the perfect time to start a new beginning for growing into our best selves.
In looking ahead, I feel even more resolved to make space for the gift of darkness we’re graced with this evening. The promise of light tomorrow makes it all the more important that tonight we honor ourselves, in preparation for that growth, with a little self-love, stillness, and rest.
