At darkest midnight
The earth shall be light
And shall gleam like a star.
~ Unknown

~*~

Last night, I took my mug of tea, touched the teapot--so warm it was almost unbearable to my fingertips--in a gesture of thanks, and curled up on the couch. Immediately, Poesy was in my lap, snuggled close, nose beneath my chin, curled up against me exchanging warmth as much as love. Before us, the tree glowed.

The scent of cranberry bread lingered in the air, baking in the warm oven. Overhead and all around us were the sounds of "The Christmas Revels: In Celebration of the Winter Solstice." A man, voice bright and burnished like copper, told the oldest tale of the world...that, throughout time, humans have gathered together to light the fires, to tend the flames, to sing back the sun from his long journey. To not forget...rather, to remember. I began to cry, tears tracing down my cheeks, reflecting the light of the tree, as I opened my heart to that sensation of community, of divine comfort and knowledge of our connection to all others who have gone before, and all others who will come. This Great Family of the world who joins hands, no matter what, rejoicing and celebrating and crying out and coming together and dancing and singing and laughing and weeping for the glory of the light and the darkness and that fine and delicate and perfect line between the two.

And so the Shortest Day came and the year died
And everywhere down the centuries of the snow-white world
Came people singing, dancing,
To drive the dark away.
They lighted candles in the winter trees;
They hung their homes with evergreen;
They burned beseeching fires all night long
To keep the year alive.
And when the new year's sunshine blazed awake
They shouted, revelling.
Through all the frosty ages you can hear them
Echoing behind us - listen!
All the long echoes, sing the same delight,
This Shortest Day,
As promise wakens in the sleeping land:
They carol, feast, give thanks,
And dearly love their friends,
And hope for peace.
And now so do we, here, now,
This year and every year.
~ Susan Cooper

Jenn was in the next room, changing into warm jammies, and Link and Pan were wrastlin' on the floor, and all around me was the divine glow of the lights. Our star on top of the tree, made from winding wire and grapevine, painted gold, open like the sky, seemed to twinkle in response to the words, to my heart opening (a blossom, spiraling up and out as it unfurls sweet, soft petals).

That great duality of darkness and light...that great dichotomy of being so very alone, cut off in the snow and sharpness of the ice, but kept together, dancing, staying warm and sharing what we have because in that great stillness of winter, we know we could be so alone, and we thank the gods we are not. We thank them for everything, you see. I have gratitude singing in my bones all the time...but winter sharpens this, gives it a new strength and purpose. This cranberry bread, warm and sweet in the glow of candles...it is divine. This woman's hand, fingers curled in mine as we cuddle together beneath blankets (and a layer of purring cats and smiling pups), watching the tree, our tree, together...it is more perfect than words can sum up. Here, in the darkness, there is a myriad of stars overhead, winking and singing with the greatest of purposes. Here, the snowflake on your tongue, eight pointed and magnificent and so tiny you would need a magnifying lens to understand its perfection...it melts in an instant, and you laugh and feel the wonder of childhood seeping you through and through and through, and you know that the darkness has its purpose, as does the light...and you sing the sun back from his journies, and you join hands and you bake and you make miracles in the half light of candles, because now, more than ever, you remember who and what you are and they are and we are.

And you kneel down, beneath those stars of wonder. The snow is cold, and the ground is frozen, but if you listen very, very hard and you open your heart and you close your eyes, you can hear what the animals and trees and very stones know.

All around you and before you and behind you is love. And in this, as in all things, you are held. And there is no snow too cold or night too dark or moon too far.

And the gratitude overwhelms you, so you sit in silence, listening to the music of the stars.


by uberfischer