Winter Solstice Story and Reflections (15 min. read)
In less than 2 weeks we will be on the cusp of the longest night of the year. The Winter Solstice. Over the years in my own spiritual practice, the metaphorical significance of this time of year has increased exponentially.
As I grow older, it is perhaps more significant than ever, as the further I draw inward, the more and more the miles of my life experiences flash before me. It never fails this time of shorter days and longer nights that the time spent in isolation and solitude grow more frequent. It is also true that as I grow older the desire to have this expanded time in solitude increases, by no coincidence. It is a time of deep reconciliation of days gone by, and an opportunity to heal unresolved moments and events of the past. For me, it’s been an opportunity to address my own internal discord.
The further awareness of the truths of the dark and light first came to me as a young adult. While I was bursting forth in my own light and brightness having followed a dream of leaving North Dakota where I grew up and earning a masters degree, the dark hit hard when I arrived in Boston, within the first few months of being there, 3 of my family members died. It was a time of incredible loss, and perplexity, as I was unfamiliar with the feelings of grief. How could it be that I was finally bursting into the realm of my own light that this sudden darkness swept in and consumed me?
Dwelling in those dark spaces drove within me a hunger, like nothing I had ever felt before, for the truth. I couldn’t be there with my family to grieve together, and to say goodbye, so how else was I going to cope with one of the most devastating times in my life?
Only I didn’t really know at the time what truth I was looking for, I just knew I couldn’t stop seeking until my heart felt rested…settled. Discontented with the religious beliefs I had been raised in, what had been taught to me about death and the afterlife, I felt the need to reject everything I had previously been taught, clearing the slate. It appeared that was the only way I was going to be able to let something new in. So I gave myself permission to be in that darkness, wandering about, bumping up against this wall and that one, this edge and that, this philosophy and that belief, until I found something…a truth…that felt more like home to me. I arrived at Astrology, metaphysics, and spiritualism, with hints of mysticism tying things together.
Astrotheology is based on the understanding of the Astrological movements of our solar system and the connection and influences that each planet has on each other and beyond. Thousands of years ago people obsessively observed the heavens and made note of repeating patterns. This is the basis of the art of astrology, those patterns forming a cohesive and in depth study on the nature of the soul and life’s path.
This celestial knowledge is the basis and origin for many of our Myths, Legends, Fairy Tales, Nursery Rhymes and Folk Lore. It developed out of an enlightened, wise and ancient priesthood that left behind for us scrolls, tablets, hieroglyphs, symbols, and the Holy Books. The language was heavily veiled in allegory and symbolism and much of it was deliberately done to keep the higher truths from the masses. Such powerful knowledge in the wrong hands could be disastrous.
This is what I discovered about this time of year: the Sun is re-born every year on the 25th day of December; that is, the days begin to lengthen. The few days before marking the winter solstice, or symbolically, the day when light and dark are equal. It struck me that somehow an important documented astrological event became intertwined with the story of Christ’s birth “the son of God” - at least how it is told in the biblical tale. Christ is his own father. He is born in the stable between the constellations of the horse and goat, Sagittarius and Capricorn. The ancients had noticed, notwithstanding their prayers and sacrifices, every year the Sun deserted them and went back until, to them, he died, was finally resurrected. They could not believe their beloved Sun God would willingly desert them, so they looked into the heavens to see why he went back.
Over time, I rediscovered within the bible a treasure of allegories, figurations, and symbolisms of the Sun, Stars, Constellations, and their path in the Heavens. Christians celebrate Jesus’ birth 3 days after the longest night of the year. The Sun "dies" on the Winter Solstice, the shortest day of the year. Three days later the Sun rises 1/10 of a degree further North. The Sun has been resurrected; a new year has begun.
It became clear to me certain stories in Bible were simply to be read as celestial (Stellar, Solar, Lunar and Planetary) allegories and parables based on archetypes ... universal symbols of deeper esoteric truths that have been veiled, suppressed, or hidden. My own light and heart burst with the recognition that the bible was not a book written by God, but a book written by men about, and of their observance and concept of God ever present in the celestial heavens ... in annual recurring cycles.
It was at this moment the light came flooding in, and a profound healing happened, connecting my mind and my heart. I was convinced, at the ripe old age 26 that I had conquered the dark. It was a major turning point and I convinced myself I didn’t need to think or dwell on it further, there was no more inward searching to do, I had managed to crack the code, I had the answers, and rectified deep inner struggles about life and death. I single handedly brought together things I had been unsettled on my insides for years – I could no longer contain the stories and religious beliefs of my own upbringing – they blossomed into a deep recognition and acceptance of many of the biblical stories, that were merely myths, legends, tales and folklore themselves.
This incredible return to the light in my own life left me hungry for more…more truth, more knowledge. I chose to deal with the dark by surrendering into the throes of study, and while it was extremely enlightening, and served a powerful purpose on my own journey, it replaced dealing with loss and grief.
I buried my own grief and pain in the pages of books, the piles of them taking over the dressers and tables in my room. It was easier to distance myself from the emotion, to forcefully shine a light of knowledge onto the pain, as if to tell it to scatter and go away, to force it out. I devoured knowledge, and while it definitely served a beautiful and important purpose, it kept me at a distance from truly dealing with the dark.
Then 20 years later (a year ago this past October) the darkness found me again in a profound way, as I found myself in the midst of death again, only this time it was with my father-in-law and much further along in my life path. Like the other passing of loved ones, my impulse was to observe from a comfortable distance this sacred time between life and death. Though this time was very different. I wasn’t alone in an east coast town. I had 3 children observing and watching me to see how I was going to handle myself, trying to figure out for themselves how to deal with loss and what grieving a loved one looked like. It wasn’t as easy this time to lose myself and shove my grief into the pages of books. Trying to make this analytical wasn’t going to work. It ripped my heart open to see my spouse dealing with the passing of a loved one. It was fresh, it was real, and it was right in front of me. I had to finally face that the only way was through it.
In the most unexpected and beautiful of ways, suddenly the light flooded the space in a moment bedside a dying man. The scene was this: several loved ones and family members gathered around my father-in-law, my son playing amazing grace on his saxophone in the other room, I sat near the door, squirming in my own discomfort, leaving myself a way out, just in case…and what happened instead was stunning. This beautiful energy of love filled the room, it was palpable. Everyone was bonded in a pure moment of joy, as my father-in-law smiled, almost jumped off of his death bed with happiness.
The light came back in that moment, where I simply let go, and breathed into the discomfort, the achy heart, the empathic drain, and I sensed for the first time the sacred healing and the beauty that break in the dark had presented to us all. We all felt it. We all saw it. We all became aware of it. The light came in and flooded the room where it was needed most. In a pure moment of connection, and of joy. I couldn’t have witnessed it had I scurried from the room in my discomfort. I couldn’t have possibly felt that all consuming energy of love, of a quickening, of being with someone on the cusp of their own death and rebirth, making peace with this life, preparing for what’s next.
In the dark days that have passed and now leading up to the winter solstice on the 21st of December…I can say I know the dark quite intimately and I am……….unafraid of surrendering to it. What has now replaced the fear of death and the death process is an understanding of the power of that as a natural part of life, a sacred process. I couldn’t have known that had I stayed in the moments of discomfort, the impulse to escape overcoming me, to get in my head about it, to flee the uncertainties of when that last breath would be taken. In the act of surrendering, I walked through the valley of the darkness, stumbling around in it, and came out on the other side transformed by it.
That is the power this time of year holds for all of us.
And the darkness of death is not the only darkness we experience in our lives.
We arrive in the darkness of our sense of purpose and meaning, it reminding us in not so kind ways that we aren’t quite there yet, in the moments our hearts crave something more in our own intimate lives, we wind up face to face with the shadows of the nooks and crannies of our own hearts wounding, we experience the doubts and uncertainties of becoming empty nesters, the darkness and shadow on the other side of retirement, and perhaps the longest night, in the shadow of the current wounding of the collective psyche of humanity…as we dig deeper and deeper into the realization of our own numbness and disconnect with the brutal realities of oppressed people in our society, as we dive into the depths of handling the disconnect to help heal hundreds of years of racial and social injustices, dealing with a pandemic, seeking for the light in the darkness. Oh the light is returning. It definitely is shining it’s brightest at this critical turning point in humanity.
Each year I read a book of winter solstice folktales from around the world in preparation, and I can say the theme that emerges each year from those is always universal: transformation. The protagonists in those stories go through often seemingly unbeatable odds to come out of the dark back to the light. There is often a test: of their own perseverance, of their humanity. Of their own ability to drive out the darkness in very epic and heroic ways. That is potentially the greatest truth we can rest in: the truth that the darkness never lasts. The universal truth is that just as we cannot escape the dark, we also cannot hide from the light, it always comes back, it always finds us, most often when we least expect it, like next to the bed of a dying man.
The winter solstice asks us to be patient, to be silent, to wait. Nature itself is asking us all to slow down, to rest, to enjoy the warmth in the sheltered comfort of our homes, laying under piles of blankets while enjoying Netflix, or conversation with our friends or significant others. Even animals know this, as they go into hibernation for the winter.
The winter is a time of darkness, and one way to honor it is to lean into that darkness by enjoying the silence it brings, and by going within yourself until the light finds you again.
Since the days grow shorter and the night grows longer, the winter solstice isn't about having more light, but it's about carrying it within yourself, whatever that means to you.
Peace,
Chanda