This is the way things end every year, with a belief that it can only get better. It will get light again. There is a new beginning on offer. Advent. Hope. Waiting.
I am wondering if all the lights and energy around the pending holiday distract from the opportunity to let the dark be dark, and the quiet be quiet. Might all the noise blur the true contrast of now and then.
I’ve wrestled with Christmas over the years. I think much of it comes from having expectations rather than anticipation. I have already decided, with the help of the standard narrative, what it should be like and feel like. I have set the bar, and am most disappointed when it doesn’t come close to reaching it, which it rarely, if ever, has.
I already know the end of the story. There is a Solstice, the night does finally give up. There is Christmas. There is a New Year. I don’t have to dictate terms – they are there already. Rather than decide anything I can just let it happen. I don’t want to get ahead of myself. One day, as short as it is, at a time. Before taking on and embracing anything new, there is the letting go and resolving what is already here. The night time has its reasons.
The light is coming, in due time, just not yet.
from an examined life