The Longest Night

The longest night and shortest day. The Earth's axis tilts the furthest away from the sun, shortening the light to less than twelve hours.

The Winter Solstice.

It's one of those reflective times for me, and I think it's a reflective time for a large chunk of the world's population.

This is going to get a little random, but please, humor me as I work this out.

2016, many will agree, was a giant ball of suck, on many levels. 

Death and Binky have been quite busy this year. David Bowie, Alan Rickman, Prince, Gene Wilder, Nancy Reagan, Abe Vigoda, Glenn Frey, Dan Haggerty, Alan Thicke, Muhammad Ali and quite literally, many, many more, have left us this year.

I don't usually get into politics on this blog, because I don't want to offend my readers, but since I'm mentioning deaths, I feel that it's not too big of a stretch to say that Democracy is comatose and definitely on life support. The plug will, I fear, be pulled in January.

It's been a crushingly disappointing year on so many levels.

But getting back to the Winter Solstice...

Back in the old days, it was the night bonfires were lit to invite the sun back. Sacrifices were made, feasting and revelry marked the night. Holly, believed to have magical powers because of its ability to survive the winter, was made into wreaths and brought into the house as a symbol of rebirth.

I've been depressed about this year. On a personal level, there have been some serious challenges which have taken their toll on me. I'm sure you, gentle reader, have had a thing or two happen to you, as well. On a universal level, it's been really tough, too. I feel like the world has gone batshit crazy. 

But as I write this, the first fingers of dawn begin to stretch across the sky, and I realize that cycles like this come, and more importantly, they go. The light returns, and while it never returns as quickly as we may like, it still returns. And in times like these, I think it's important to remember that we can make a choice to bring back the light by lighting those candles, that bonfire, and by turning on that light switch.

Pema Chodron once said that peace is as infectious as aggression, and though I struggle every day with my own aggression (like many artists, I tend to be intense about everything), I try to keep this thought in mind.

Happy Winter Solstice, gang. Let's welcome back the light.