I’ve been watching the sun slide low across the western sky.
Ducking out of sight earlier and earlier each day. No amount of knowledge of the how and why of the tilting axis of our spinning world makes much of a difference to me. It seems every evening, I’m still astounded by the shortness of the day. I stretch and yawn thinking to myself “it’s time for bed.” Only to look at the clock and roll my eyes…because it’s not yet eight:)
I’ve been trying but I’ve never learned to love winter. The low light and cold make me want to hide.
In my way, I’ve tried to befriend it. I focus on it as a time of cocooning. Deep thinking in the dark. A time to review the past year. Glean what is worth gleaning. Let go of the rest. Easier said than done. Candles help. Lots of candles.
You may have already heard of Hygge. It’s the Danish idea of staying happy in winter by getting extra cozy indoors. I’ve hung twinkle lights in every room and my fake fire place is surprisingly…really cozy.
Still, as we approach the longest night of the year the darkness feels more and more tangible. Something to hold and consider. Deep and heavy. I’ve been imagining darkness and light as threads that weave together. Stitching our days into years and making the fabric of our lives. Existence of one without the other is impossible. This is a lesson I learn again and again.
I picked this painting to share with you because I thought it would be a good counter point to the Winter Solstice. I started it over a year ago at the height of summer. It definitely has summer’s warmth with its coral orange. Though, at the moment it’s the emanating cool blue light that gets my attention. It reminds me of winter light.
I’ve been searching for a title for the piece. “Luminescent” came to my mind. A light not caused by heat. Something caused by chemical reactions or electrical energy. That idea of light without heat makes for some wintery thought. It seems light itself is more multi-faceted than I imagined. This weaving I’ve been thinking about is infinitely complex.
Tomorrow the light will shift. Its arc will slowly rise bringing with it a new year.
Maybe…I’ll learn to love winter this time around:)
“Maybe you have to know the darkness before you can appreciate the light.”
– Madeleine L’Engle