No Longer Afraid of the Dark

This past year has been one of transition and shifting perspectives, of welcoming in changes both big and small and being open to where these new and undiscovered paths may lead.  This is not to say that all of these changes have come easily; many moments of doubt, second-guessing, and fear have accompanied many of the uncertain steps I have taken.  One of the biggest shifts that has taken place in my life has been my relationship to being in nature and becoming an observer of the world.

January 28, 2024, was a turning point for me, marking my first foray into the frigid waters of Lake Ontario.  With those first steps into the water came a newfound appreciation and realization of the vastness of the world outside my door that I had been hastily ignoring and passing over in my day-to-day whirl of life.  Coming to the lake with my community of fellow cold dippers brought me back to a space of wonder and humbled me on more than one occasion.  Witnessing first-hand the power and beauty of Mother Nature is nothing short of breathtaking and spectacular, and provides an instant reminder of just how tiny we are in the grander scheme of things. 

What I also came to appreciate was the changing of the seasons.  As each day passed by, sunrise came just a few minutes earlier, stretching the days and filling our hearts with light and warmth.  Passing through Summer Solstice, we began to watch as those earlier sunrises started to creep backward, and the nighttime darkness began to linger just a few moments longer, each day feeling shorter than the one before.  

In the past, I often felt a sense of gloom and dreariness as the colder months closed in.  I missed the sun's warm glow and felt like I was moving from dark mornings to dark evenings without much of a reprieve in between.  My desire to be outside waned and although I pushed myself to go on runs and walks, it was often after a small pep talk to get me out of the door.  The darkness made me feel uneasy and uncomfortable - I associated so many negative emotions and thoughts with being in the dark over the years that it felt difficult to see it as anything but a time of year to simply get through.

Celebrating Winter Solstice this past weekend really marked a change in my perspective.  As I sat around a community fire, listening to others share their triumphs and challenges I began to notice that although we were cloaked in the dark, we were each emitting our own light.  Although it was cold and wintery out, we were kept cozy in community, and our shared vulnerability and gratefulness around our experiences brought us closer together.  Leaving the gathering with the scent of fire in my clothes and hair, I felt a newfound admiration for this time of year, and the gift of pause and reflection offered.  Perhaps my discomfort wasn't so much due to the lack of light and visibility, but instead a reaction to the calling for rest and pause.  Taking my foot off the gas has never sat well with me, yet deep down I know it is the only way forward.  So instead of fighting against it, I will lean into it in the same subtle way that I have observed over the past year - I will listen when rest is called for and will enjoy those moments of rejuvenation as I know they will lead to more energetic and light-filled days ahead.