I've been offering weekly sacred gatherings leading up to the Winter Solstice. Women from the local village, along with a few that travel over an hour away, journey to Hawk Circle in the dark winter nights, walk up our snowy hill to Eagle House hearing owls hoot from their perches, pour their cup of hot tea, and join our circle of deep sharing and listening.
We begin with unraveling(literally, a piece of an old knitted sweater) the things that no longer serve us. And then we bring our awareness to what is emerging in our lives. We name, we embrace, we nourish, we listen to the needs of what is emerging. Within the darkness, we patiently wait for the whispers - we sit in stillness, lest we miss the subtle stirrings . A small flicker of light, a tiny seed of hope, discovered in the deepest and darkest corners of our sacred wombs.
This is the season of hope. Like a dark night of the soul, the only thread of light we can rely on is the light of hope and our own inner faith that the sun will return. And when it does, the morning after the longest night of the year, then we begin to understand the spiritual significance of the megalithic tombs such as Newgrange in County Meath, Ireland.
I've been to Newgrange. During my first visit, I remember listening to our Irish guide describe the purpose of this ancient temple for keeping track of the sun's progression for agricultural purposes. But as I walked down the long, dark corridor, inside the earth, the path that the first rays of light travel through illuminating the furthest back sanctuary, I imagined young Arthur, nervously walking this same corridor, to a candlelit sanctuary where the priestess lay waiting. An ancient ritual symbolizing the first ray of light penetrating the dark womb of creation. A seed of light, from a soon to be King, impregnating the earth priestess, bringing hope for the future.
This is our journey this season, descending into the depth of our wombs, stirring what lays unconscious, and awakening our gifts that lay dormant. We stir and we stir, we unravel and let go. AND then comes the sun, the light of consciousness, to penetrate the very depths of our womb. The light returning brings the AHA moments - a split second of clarity like a lightning bolt illuminating the depths of darkness. It's a moment of conception that brings forth the stirrings of the new to be held and nurtured through the winter months.
I hope you take the time to pause your life, even for just a moment during this holy night to feel into what is emerging. Light a candle, honor the darkness, and welcome in the light.