The Return of the Light

This has been a hard year for almost everyone I know. Although the pandemic has been shared collectively, there is a uniqueness to each of our experiences.

Some of us have lost someone dear to us and have not been able to say goodbye. Others are separated from those we love and have missed birthdays, weddings, funerals, and holiday time. And then there are jobs that have vanished, anxiety that is heightened, and the sense of a community fractured.

The human routines that kept us connected to others, pre-pandemic, have been uprooted and for many, I think this has led to a feeling of being ungrounded. There’s been a loss of a sense of safety. Perhaps trust. Maybe even hope.

Personally, I’ve been drawing a lot of comfort from nature and the cycles of nature during this time. How the Earth keeps spinning, how the seasons unfold. The gorgeous predictability of nature when nothing else seems certain anymore.

A month ago, my partner and I planted 100 bulbs in our yard. More than in any other year, this act felt like a sacred and deeply hopeful one. I silently thanked each bulb for the delight it will bring, and heartily wished that we will all be in a better place when the sun does its work and they burst to life in the Spring.

This knowing—that the light will return and the Earth will be green again—brings me so much comfort. I can’t help but see this time of year metaphorically (perhaps especially in pandemic-ridden 2020) and am looking so forward to watching the days get longer, moment by moment after the Winter Solstice on December 21.

If we’re open to it, the Solstice offers us an opportunity to reflect and to re-ground ourselves. It gifts us with a chance to bring the light back into our thoughts and our lives and to be intentional as we move into a new year.

In the spirit of sharing light, I’d like to offer a few writing prompts that you could do as a Solstice ritual. Find a cosy spot and light a candle before contemplating these questions:

 

  • What were your biggest losses this year? Be compassionate with yourself as you acknowledge what, or who, you are grieving.

 

  • What do you need or want to release and let go of moving into 2021?

 

  • What do you want to invite in? What do you want to create more of in the next year of your life?

 

If you’re keen to do this kind of writing in the company of other women, join me for “Write From Your Heart” on Thursday, December 17 from 6:30-9pm (Atlantic time). It is normally an in-person gathering in Halifax but this month, due to Covid restrictions, I’m excited to hold it as a Zoom video call and welcome women from other parts of the world.

Check it out and sign up here. I would be so delighted to see some of your faces and hear your voices and your writing.

Sending light and love,

—Renée

Author: Renée Hartleib