“All who need comfort are welcome here…”
I have a sister tree, for over twenty years she has peered in at me as I sit at the desk in my office. Today she is providing a resting place for what appears to be a rather well-fed crow. I play “Jack’s Crows” by John Gorka while I study the crow, a symbol of change and transformation, and a fellow moon and sun worshiper. It seems to be calmly gazing back at me.
On the longest night and shortest day of the year, the winter solstice marks the official beginning of winter, although here in the north country of Maine, winter settled in weeks ago. And while I’ve never welcomed winter, the solstice represents a sweet sense of possibility and connection to me. I am imagining my Celtic ancestors celebrating the festival of “Alban Arthuan” which translates as “light of winter.” Each year on this day they would gather around a central fire and light a log from the previous year’s solstice celebration in order to conquer the darkness and request blessings for the coming year.
Tonight, I’ll keep company with the darkness for a bit before I light my own small fire to banish the dark. I’ll acknowledge these cold winter days and even more frigid nights as reminders to slow down, turn inward, and allow what is currently a mystery to incubate. A bit later today I’ll create a winter solstice soul collage, a mini vision board for the coming year and then I’ll bundle up and take a winter walk along the river. But for the next few moments, I’m going to commune with the crow outside my window. I’ve loved crows since I was a little girl who begged her mother to tell her once again about the pet crow that her great, great grandmother shared her home with. The devoted bird would proudly present her with shiny objects on an almost daily basis that it had scavenged and sometimes stolen from neighbors. When she died, the family legend held that crows gathered around the house cawing mournfully. Remarkably, when her daughter died just a short distance away from where I was staying in Connecticut, it was the clamor of a murder of crows that woke me up just before I received the call that she’d passed. Strange, I know, but absolutely true, I promise you.
The crow outside my window flew off and then returned during the short time that I’ve been writing this post. It’s been sweet company. What simple gifts – this day, that crow, the warmth of my house, the scent of sandalwood, the music playing in the background, and the promise of one more minute of sunlight each and every day until the summer solstice.
Following are a few resources for if you choose to mark the occasion:
Celebrate the Winter Solstice 20/20 courtesy of Plenty.
Winter Solstice Journaling Prompts
Meditation for Winter Solstice
May you bask in the inner light that is contained within you always…
Many blessings,
Tammie Fowles
Spirituality, Therapy, and the Good Life 