Hello friend.
How is December treating you so far? What does all of this darkness mean to you? How does this season (both the natural season + the holiday season) affect you? Are you noticing something different this year? Where do your thoughts and feelings take you on these long, dark, cold nights?
In my pursuit of a slow, deep, all-in winter season, I am really trying to focus on each day as it passes - even if I am also longing for those few sacred days off between Christmas and the New Year. Still, I’m trying my best to simply be present. And let the darkness, the cold, the candlelight envelop and nourish and inspire me.
What I am finding is that being here, in the darkest of the dark of the whole entire year, is not easy. At the same time, it feels so right.
Still, I do not wish to rush this season. Instead, I want to soak every bit of wisdom and restorative silence out of it. I want to drop into every bit of creative, incubating, deep moment of potential of these dark nights. I want to reflect, release, and root back down into the inner stillness of my soul.
And while all of that is cozy + lovely, it is also hard. The dark is dark. Feelings, memories, grief, thoughts of unfinished business or unattained dreams swirl around. A sense of loneliness creeps in. Moments of exhaustion and disappointment and melancholy are present.
But, there’s something magical that happens here in Sweden that helps to ease it all. Just when we need it the most. Right in the middle of the darkest nights of the year, as Advent unfolds, a call rings out… “I am here. I see you, neighbor. I wait with hope, too.”
In many windows, all through the cities and all across the countryside, stars and candles light up the dark gray days and the black nights. Obviously, the stars and candles help to ease the darkness. But, I believe it is also a call to hope. A shout out to one another that we are not alone. We light up our windows to say hello, to say that we are here, to remind each other to hold on.
It is a December act of solidarity.
I remember walking from window to window, and room to room, in my childhood home, turning on an electric candle in every single window every single night all throughout December. I loved that ritual. It felt cozy, sure. But, it also felt very important. People have been lighting candles in windows for ages. Welcoming strangers in. Waiting for loved ones to return. Sending out a message of hospitality. Sharing a sign of hope in the dark. Saying to everyone… “ I am not giving up. I am here. I am waiting. I’ll wait with you.”
When I look at all of the windows lit up as I walk the streets of the city, I feel that, just when we need it most, in some silent and simple way, we are greeting each other with the light and hope that we all so desperately want and need for this world.
It may be a tiny little thing, these stars and candles in the windows. But, it is a clear sign that all hope is not lost. We are standing vigil with each other. Waiting for the light to return. At the same time, we’re not just sitting back in the dark feeling helpless and lost. No, we are literally offering our own lights to each other. Something that I deeply hope we can do all year long.
So, here’s my shout out to you, my friend. I am here. I am waiting with you. Even in the dark, you are not alone.
xoxo. liz.
Liz this was a lovely post to read on a cold dark December morning and especially as I’m also in the process of writing a post about light that I hope to publish later in the week :) Candles in windows is not such a tradition here in England anymore but I think maybe it should be. A light shining out to our neighbours at this time of year is a comforting thought x