On Thursday, Dec. 21, those dwelling in the Northern Hemisphere will observe the winter solstice.
This solstice marks the point at which the sun is farthest south. It is the day of the year with the least sunlight and, therefore, the longest night for us northerners.
In a quietly imperceptible way – to us, anyway – the sun’s path will then shift and turn back our way, culminating in the summer solstice on June 20, the day of the year with the most sunlight and the shortest night of the year for us.
Meanwhile, our friends in the Southern Hemisphere will experience their longest day of sunlight Thursday and their day with the least sunlight on June 20.
With all the vicissitudes of life, it is comforting to know the universe continues operating quietly in the background, according to the intricate intelligence upon which it is built.
And here we are, on this precious little planet of ours, fighting, killing, polluting and otherwise destroying ourselves and each other with every tick of the clock.
This week, I read a post on social media that somehow made its way past all my anxieties and mental busyness and spoke to my core.
On Wednesday, Native American Episcopal Bishop Steven Charleston wrote on Facebook: “Can you feel it? Can you feel it on the wind? That almost imperceptible turning of the great wheel of creation? We are turning in a new direction. We are shifting toward the light. Our prayers are working. The power of hope is being revealed. Go outside. Open your arms to the four directions. Can you feel it? Can you feel it on the wind?”
I first became aware of Charleston several years ago and have followed his posts regularly ever since. Each day, he shares a short meditation based on current events.
Back in 2020, when we lived through one disaster after another here and abroad, his posts did not ignore the ominous events that were happening.
Yet, he continued to inspire his readers with hope and a faith that despite our dwelling in the valley of darkness, we need not fear evil. That we are not alone. That underneath all the madness, there is a gentle, loving entity walking with us and sustaining us with every breath we take.
I don’t know if it was the power of suggestion, but when I went outside that morning, I sensed – in a spiritual way – a difference in the atmosphere.
A charged lightness of being.
In any case, I am choosing to go with Jesus’s teaching that if we have faith the size of a mustard seed, we can “move mountains.”
Each time I go outside now, I think of Bishop Charleston’s post. I breathe deeper and trust the winds of change are shifting our way. I affirm to myself that love always triumphs over fear and evil.
Always.
And that even though I have no idea how or when, love will prevail now, too. I remind myself that “the light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.”
I tell myself this is a reality that is as true now as it has ever been. That it will be true until the end of time. That throughout its history, human beings have inflicted and witnessed the worst of evil on each other and the planet we have been given, and humanity has somehow still survived.
This is why I have come to observe the winter solstice as a holy day, one of the holiest days of the year.
On this day, I rest quietly in the womb of the dark night. I allow the deep peace that comes forth from the darkness to wrap me in its warmth.
I savor it.
And then I hold sacred that imperceptibly gentle moment when the dark turns back to the light.
SPIRIT MATTERS is a weekly column by Jerrilyn Zavada Novak that examines experiences common to the human spirit. Contact her at jzblue33@yahoo.com.