[...So gather twilight to your breast...]

As winter solstice draws near, I hover excitedly on the brink of my newly revived life. Seasons do accompany us through our journeys. That is why we celebrate new light on the darkest days. We celebrate birth, we celebrate hope and excitement, we celebrate the year behind us and we celebrate the year to come. 

Winter solstice is one of my favourite points on this earthly calendar. Even though today the day will be longer than the first day after solstice, the first day after solstice feels brighter because of what is to come. Solstice is the last night of six months' worth of growing nights, and the first day of six months' worth of growing days. Who would not look forward to that first morning?

Easter mimics much of the same mentality. Through the darkest, coldest, deadest days of winter, Easter marks the coming of Spring. Forgetting all we know about our conceptions of Christianity, at the heart of its essence, it is a death and a rebirth. At King's, we have an Easter service in which the dark chapel is interrupted by a single candle that is lit at midnight. Everyone already holds a small candle, and the single flame is passed from neighbour to neighbour, until the entire chapel is illuminated and warmed by the flames of a hundred candles. Regardless of belief, the aesthetic impression of the single flame multiplying into hundreds within minutes is breathtaking. The meaning of it is wholly present and yet unspoken - unspeakable - in everyone witness to it.

Thus it is with me. Our transformations do not come instantaneously. We are not struck by a bullet, thrust into darkness and to soon again rise in the fullness of day. Rather, we shrink away into darkness like the waxing and waning of the winter days... But, from within the darkness, a candle is lit, the green of a seedling sprouts from underneath the melting snow, and the darkness slowly diminishes as light takes its place.

To begin life again at the dawn of winter is beautiful. The colour white, my favourite of all colours, encompasses all and wipes away the grime of old illusions. Against it, the richness of evergreens and the duskiness of bark calm me, as if they are drowsy, smiling animals, so content that their eyes take them to sleep. The shock of the cold is like the clarity of ice-water. The welcoming warmth of indoor fire is like the warm drink that puts us to sleep.

The world to come excites me so much I am almost afraid I won't be able to contain myself. Colours, tones and materials put me into a state of frenzy. Learning makes my heart sing. Reading is unbearable because my desire moves faster than my eyes. I must be drinking the herbs and evergreens because I am drunk from them and wanting more. It breaks my heart to see the dogs running in the park, because against my desire, I could never bind them to me infinitely, inseparable from their roving spirits, sharing our insatiable hunger and excitement for life.

To be reborn into the darkness of winter. To set my beeswax to flame and walk alongside the growing days. I am grateful to the seasons for this blessing.