Thick clouds and gentle rain fell over Charleston yesterday morning. Though it prevented my early morning run, I felt relaxed and content as I engaged in quieter indoor activities instead. The damp, bleak environment outside reminded me of so many dark days of winters past, when being indoors and doing quiet things was the mode of the day. And it won’t be long now until winter will officially be with us. Nudging us into the warmth of the indoors, the deep darkness of winter invites us to spend more time in quiet activities, to slow down and listen, to become more fully conscious.
It is that season of the year when we have the opportunity to hunker down, perhaps light a fire, brew a cup of tea, and befriend–even embrace–the darkness, where so much is given birth. It is here in the quiet spaces of our lives that our spirit can deepen and where the light of hope, compassion, and peace can flower and grow.
Poet May Sarton (1912-1995) says it best:
Help us to be the always hopeful
gardeners of the spirit
who know that without darkness
nothing comes to birth
as without light