Solstice

When I was younger, I used to think the sparkles in snowdrifts were tiny faeries. I would carefully try to step around them as my boots sank through the snow, hoping their beautiful delicateness wouldn’t be impaired by my footprints.

Now, my belief of these snow creatures has diminished a bit, but I never cease to admire winter’s beauty that goes often unnoticed. The fruit tree branches in my backyard are dotted with microscopic lichens akin to frog eggs or eyes; green stubble lichens create mini-forests on the sides of trees; jellies like stagshorn jelly or witches’ butter peek brightly-coloured faces out from stumps.

Winter is often portrayed as a dead, bleak time of the year, where it’s best to huddle inside and stay warm, separate from the cold outdoors. While I agree that some days, when the wind howls and snow is flung from clouds, it’s a given to stay inside, but there’s a hidden loss that we don’t seem to stop to consider. Staying separate from all that is teaches us that we are different from the world around us, that there’s a definite wall between human and environment. And in my opinion, this isn’t the case. We’re more alike nature than we think – or perhaps we care to admit.

I see a likeliness between our current needs and the winter solstice. The woods are quiet, sounds muffled by thick snow. Animals rest in their burrows or sleep in pockets of ice under pine branches, their tracks lines of calligraphy. Cedar seeds are released onto the ground from their sanctuaries in cones. Silence, rest, manifestation. Important arts that we’ve lost our natural rhythm and connection to; daily standards and our rapid pace of life doesn’t give us the time we need to breathe and slow down for a bit. Right now is a time of taking everything day by day – really all that’s been possible to do in the last year or so. Life is always full of ups, downs, and plateaus, but in the past months it’s felt like a rollercoaster in a nutshell.

Lately I’ve gone out and paid closer attention to things I normally look past. Branches, leaves, snowflakes – all have a level of exquisite detail that brings my mind away from bleakness and into gratitude. It’s hard to feel alone and lost when just a small glance can bring so much life into view.

This winter, or anytime you feel a bit desolate and lonely, I invite you to spend some time outside. Pay attention to anything that catches your eye, anything that reminds you that there is a greater design to life that everyone, everything, is a part of. We’re all connected, whether we like it or not.

Winter solstice teaches us acceptance of the dark and hope for the light.