Moving past the winter equinox and the ensuing lengthening of daylight’s hours bring with them a subtler grace along with that of the elongated waking time. With the natural increased light can come a lightening of spirit that is a welcome internal forerunner of the earth’s return to Spring. So it is for me, today.
On the morning’s southeast drive, through familiar freeway worlds newly cleansed and made somehow forgivably softer by the recent rains, we were no longer suspended in the grey soup of overcast, mist and downpour but immersed instead in a palely pearly, glowing haze lit by the hot orange disk of a flat new sun. Every shadow seemed gentler and sparkled with morning-flitting birds. The quiet of the early time was both more welcoming and more profoundly silent in its way.
I found these same things filled me up, as well. Inwardly smiling on the world like a lesser peaceful sun, I felt a contentment long dormant begin to cradle my being again, singing subtle comfort and bidding me to a meditative state almost forgotten in recent harried weeks. Perhaps my winter is drawing to a close.
Surely the appearance of washing and nourishing rains and the following benison of the returning sunlight makes it easier to turn a kindly eye to the rest of the world. The peeping pairs of seedling leaves in planter and flowerbed renew my sense of living in a sweetly Possible world. The growing days teach me to be more patient–what must be accomplished, somehow, will.
I know as well: if I choose, I can relearn my inward calm, reclaim my lighter self. I can return to that place of familiarity where I fit in, and welcome others too, and start the long, slow, happy climb from winter’s night into the daylight of my springtime soul. Ever so gently and gradually so. Sun or no sun, the inner light can glow again if I tend it thoughtfully and wait.