The Shortest Day

Human Highlighter Suit Tally: 10

When I was growing up, my father always marked the winter solstice.  Only he didn’t call it the solstice and he certainly would not have said he was “marking” it.  He would sit at our kitchen table, a cup of milky-sweet coffee in one hand and a cigarette in the other and say to my sisters and me, “Well, girls, the days are starting to get longer now.  Pretty soon we’ll be headed to the beach.”  Never mind that, at December’s end, we had barely tiptoed to the edge of winter in New Jersey; the worst was yet to come.  Never mind that a glorious fall day in November with exactly the same amount of daylight as a frigid, slushy one in February will win hands down every time.

When my acupuncturist, Ferran (yes, you read that right, but that’s another story for another day) sent out an invitation to a solstice talk and meditation he was leading, I decided to go.  What drew me?  I like ritual.  I think many of us, and particularly those of us who live in cities, have become disconnected from the earth.  And I like Ferran, so I wanted to see what he tricks he had up his sleeve.  First, I checked to make sure Alec didn’t have something else planned, and I asked if he’d like to join me.  He responded that he’d probably be better off not going himself.  I think he was afraid he might snicker during the festivities.

It rained all day—a cold, grey, constant drizzle—the kind of day that makes you want to get home at the end of the day and stay there.  But I did not feel even a twinge of my usual inertia, so I set off for downtown at about 7:45. When I arrived, people had started to gather in the yoga room of the acupuncture clinic.  Ferran—who is young and dynamic, a Catalan who studied acupuncture in the US—greeted everyone warmly as they entered.  I took a seat near the back.  Ferran poured himself some tea and started talking about how auspicious the solstice is, about the earth’s cycle and the opportunity it provides for us to look inside ourselves and make sure we are living the lives we want to live.  Who knows what the sun has to do with it, but it’s a message I sure need to hear every now and again.

Today’s solstice is supposed to be especially potent—for the first time in 372 years it coincides with a lunar eclipse; two cycles at the same time.  Because it’s the shortest day, the winter solstice is thought of as the rebirth of the sun, a time of movement from darkness into light.  As it did when I was a kid, the day has dual significance for me.  On the one hand, I am grateful for the turn that marks the gradual lengthening of the day; I love the long days of summer.  On the other hand, I revel in the cocooning that winter enables—taking hot baths, roasting root vegetables, braising meats, burrowing into flannel sheets.

Ferran had asked everyone to bring a small candle.  He put the lights out, we lit the candles, and everyone got quiet.  Whether you believe in this kind of hocus pocus or not, a room full of people thinking kind and peaceful thoughts can generate some powerful energy.  I’ve felt it in yoga classes, on meditation retreats, in places of worship.  In fact, it reminded me of the Christmas Eve candlelight services of my youth.  Once I was old enough, I often walked home from church alone on those nights, to hold on to large silence for a little while longer.