The year turns again. This seems a fitting time to begin writing here in earnest. I take the new moons as a monthly time to rest and reflect. In the same way, winter solstice is a time for quiet and memory. I used to struggle with the darkness of winter, especially upon moving to Denmark, where the winters are much darker than where I hail from. As I settled into my Druid practice I have come to see the winter and the darkness as an ally instead of an adversary. The natural rhythms of life are clear that this is a time to slow down, rest, recuperate. If there is an adversary here it is our society. We are asked to push outside of natural rhythms and keep up a frenetic pace of life even as the world around us sleeps. No wonder we’re exhausted.
I look forward to the solstice not so much because the sun is returning, but because the world stands still in darkness and I give myself to rest. On the solstice I lean into the long, dark night. We don’t turn on electric lights or use our various devices (phones, laptops, e-readers) for the whole evening. Watching the day darken to night at 3:30pm, we eventually light candles and start a fire in the wood stove. We live in the darkness like humans have for most of our existence. This year I read from a couple of paper books. I often read from Sacred Actions by Dana O’Driscoll, and did so again this year. I also read for this month in The Nordic Animist Year by Rune Hjarnø Rasmussen. I spent time meditating, reflecting on the ups and downs of the year, and just being with the evening. Then I decided to revisit an old friend by picking up Ursula LeGuin’s A Wizard of Earthsea, which I haven’t read in many years. The quiet time to reflect, be present with my family, and not be distracted by doom-scrolling or feeling compelled to work on a project is so very nourishing.
I wish you rest and nourishment in quiet dark.
Addison Hawthorne 