After a long series of dreary, Mid-December days, my mind drifts inward. It mimics the world around me. Birds have quieted their song. Plants have stored their nutrients. Soils have absorbed the frost. Amphibians are buried in secrecy. Everywhere I look I see retraction, exuberance waiting, the internal response to the sun’s departure, each day shorter than the last.
This is coming of the winter solstice. And, I believe, it is the catalyst for the New Year’s tradition of making promises. I resolve to be well, just as I cling to the fact that daylight will increase. I want to be present, limber, and ready for joy when the songs play again. I may feel colorless now on the outside but inside the energy of rejuvenation swells.
Each year this dormancy adds another layer to my life’s experience. It is neither dramatic, worrisome, nor extraordinary. It is simply the cycle of my mind drifting with the pattern of the sun.