Up here in the Northern hemisphere, we are officially in the darkest days of the year. The birds at my feeder seem hungrier, there is ice on my windscreen and the pale, silvery winter sun casts warm hues on the tops of buildings, requiring us to look up a bit more. These can be hard days for some. Believe me, as a widow, last December felt like torture. However, what did keep me afloat was a practice of reverence for the dark skies of the season. Rather than looking away, I took to stepping out my back door in order to feel the depth of the night. And yes, there is a type of depth held within the darkness: a depth of stillness in the land, a depth of quiet in the long nights and an opportunity to slow down and enter an almost sacred time of rest. That is, if we pause long enough to notice.
I haven’t always loved the dark night skies. However, a few years ago a friend of mine told me about me a book by Matt Gaw, “Under the Stars: a journey into light”,. Wow- what a beautiful read if you’re looking for something seasonal. Gaw metaphorically illuminated the beauty of a Winter after dark. He writes about being inspired by his young son’s plea to not waste the night (this could have been a defiant protest to an early bedtime routine). Instead, Gaw took this as an invitation to venture out into it the night as a deliberate act to experience the nightscape. He tingles with delight at the realisation that he had “almost by accident ghosted into a different world”.
Reading these words, my curiosity was peaked. I enlisted Graeme and we took to packing a backpack, filled with flasks of hot tea and extra layers, and venturing out into the night for dark sky walks. What we came to find was that the dark wasn’t as dark as we imagined it to be. Once the eyes adjusted, there was light bouncing off the shadows and an almost iridescent dance filtering through the trees.
The call of the dark nights still pull me. It’s changed though. As a woman, and a widow, I have to be careful of how I enter the nightscape. What I mean by this is that I don’t always feel as safe in public spaces. I usually have to convince someone to join me on these night walks. Although, nothing stops me from turning off all of the lights in the house, wrapping up warm and heading out into the garden to simply sit quietly for a few minutes. To really listen to the night and to feels its embrace still carries the magic as those early night walks with Graeme.
Of course as we all know, these dark days are punctured by the celebration of Christmas, Chanukah, Kwanzaa (in the Americas and beyond), Winter Solstice, etc… These celebrations are important. They remind us of the cyclical return of longer days and invoke hope of Spring to come. However, they can also be hijacked by a dollop of stress and a gallon of consumerism. The intention of these celebrations can be lost.
So this is my invitation to you as we face the month of December: can we deliberately choose to be guided by the natural world? To truly feel the call to pause. To slow down. To rest. To experience the night’s embrace and witness the light within. Even if it is only for a few minutes a day, can we open ourselves up to the natural world and all it has to teach us?
Perhaps if we are willing to be with the dark of the natural world, we can think about what it might be like to be with some of the shadows of our heart. These too have some light to give.
If you would like to join us at the Sanctuary online community meditation for some slowing down through mindfulness meditation, we would love to see you. We meet on a Tuesday morning at 10am. Access the zoom link below.
-Jane
Click here to join me at the Sanctuary’s online community meditation this Tuesday at 10am.
To listen to and practice a meditation on touching in with stillness, click below:
My Silent Place 
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