by Maria Ede-Weaving
Has anyone been feeling particularly tired of late? Here in the Northern Hemisphere, the run up to the Winter Solstice can leave us feeling low in energy. Our modern world is so adept at ignoring Nature’s cycles and seasonal changes, that we can underestimate the impact that the lack of light and gloomy days have on our physical and emotional states. When we feel like a sleepy dormouse, or even worse, if we are SAD sufferers who battle seasonal depression and lethargy, it is an added stress to still be expected to keep going full tilt with all of life’s demands; this can further drain what little energy we might have.
It is such a shame that modern life is so woefully at odds with our natural rhythms, that the perfectly natural and understandably desire to hibernate or slow down is not honoured. The increasing darkness, although at times difficult, offers us the opportunity to rest, to ponder and to dream. In a world where productivity and growth are the primary gods, the value of the pause, of stepping back, is so often missed. Are we so scared of fallow periods as a culture? It would seem so. But laying fallow is vital; it is the act of true recovery in the service of an eventual renewal. Letting the earth rest prepares the ground for planting and flourishing, and we are no different. As Druids we recognise this, but are not always able to honour it as much as we would like.
This has got me thinking about how we manage our spiritual paths and practices when the culture we live in might express itself in ways at odds with our deepest, most natural needs and rhythms. The Wheel of the Year is a fabulous way to ground ourselves in those cycles, but the Winter Solstice can be a tricky time with external expectations conflicting with our natural urge to ease up.
Today has been so dark, the light levels in my house have been like dusk for the entire day! Having the overhead lights on all day can feeling quite jarring. I listened to a lovely little series on BBC Sounds called ‘Winter Well’. It offered tips for those who struggle with this time of year and one that stood out to me was the suggestion to create a space in your home of cosy, restful light, a kind of fairy light/candle nest of sorts to snuggle up in. They mentioned that in countries such as Norway, the level of SAD experienced is less. Partly this might be due to the snow and it’s light reflecting qualities – countries that are gloomily wet through the winter don’t fare so well – but in Scandinavian countries, it is also about the embracing of winter dark by the use of candle or soft, gentle lighting, really emphasising the inward cosiness of it all. This really resonates with me.
This week I have enjoyed walking in the dark down a local street that has a lot of large bay windows, each displaying huge Christmas trees full of lights and sparkle. Honestly, electricity use aside, it really does prove the point that gentle, magical light in the darkness has a joy and comfort in it.
I am endeavouring to create little pockets in my home of gentle, soothing light and cosiness – spaces that are pretty to the eye and comforting to the soul and that really help to feed my need to rest, to dream, to do nothing but be.
I think that the urge to gather and celebrate in the depths of the year’s darkest times is also a part of this winter journey – a kind of sympathetic magic that celebrates community and plenty in the leanest times. We all instinctively understand that hopeful call for the light’s return and we do this pretty well with our annual festivities. However, honouring the fallowness, the bone-tiredness of it all; sinking into our our nests of light and giving our spirits and bodies the time to mend and recover, is surely as important?
What do you do to combat any winter blues, or honour this special time of darkness?