Winter Solstice, Silence, & Stillness

Cloaked in darkness, this is the shortest ‘day’ of the year. The beginning of the astronomical winter, and the day in which the northern hemisphere is tilted the farthest from the sun. And today at 9:59 a.m. CST, winter solstice arrived. She glided in with the cold winds, promising the gift of more light, gradually, day by day.

And yet, winter will remain for a few more months. The days cold, the nights colder. And with that, hibernation becomes the norm. These are times of reflection and contemplation, and the anticipation of expectation. Huddled under blankets, we rest. We think. We ponder. We take in, and observe, and remember. We are in no rush, to get to the next thing. And perhaps we even learn to savor the stillness, and we begin to know it is okay, to pause.

She can teach us much, winter, if we listen. But then, this is the hard part.

The quiet. The stillness. The profound healing that arrives on winter’s whispers. If we let it. If we participate in it. If we…pause. Silence is both an instigator and healer. She is also a fork in the road, and a guide.

Some of my most painful moments have been those in the stillness and quiet. In the silence, your questions become louder, and initially, the ache a little sharper. It is uncomfortable and uncertain. Because it is here, one cannot hide. Here, there is no avoiding in busyness, music, conversation, or tv. Here, there’s an important intersection in the stillness, and that’s when your pain meets acceptance. Here, is when you meet yourself. Here, is when peace rises to the top, gently resting on all it traveled through, to get here, to get to you.

Winter can begin this healing if we let it. Winter can be the container in which we hibernate if we practice it. Winter can be the beginning of finding more light, more healing, little by little, day by day.

If you let it. If you meet it. If you practice it.

Solstice. Silence. Stillness. May winter be your guide to healing.