I think that often I underestimate the immensity of a shadow. I used to experience these sunny days in Oregon, where the clouds were so puffy and slow moving that you thought surely, they could never budge. It seemed more likely they would be stuck in that corner of the sky forever than to make their way towards you. But when they finally did cross the sunlight’s path, their shadows seemed to stretch as far as you could see, further than even the length of the sun rays. And though the grasses were dry and brittle, and the Land ached from near constant heat, there was no warmth: only that shadow, which blocked out the light entirely.
Sometimes I think that the internal space is like that too - the shadows are barely visible, and then all of sudden seem to suck the light from every crevice of your Being. You see a fracture, just a tiny one, a splinter really. But the closer you get to it, it fills the frame of your vision, and soon it is all you can see. The darkness that spills out colors everything in your life, your mind, your heart. It seems like an eternal winter of the soul.
But I suppose eternal winters and never ending shadows are just figments of our imagination, a way the ego protects itself and projects its story. The truth is, nothing lasts forever. The common phrase, “this too shall pass”, is actually true. Offensive and annoying and usually ill timed, but true. The wheel keeps turning. And we cycle through sunshine and shadow in a never-ending rhythm until, at last, we pass through to … well, something else. Soil, a star, another body, another place. I don’t know, nor do I really care. All I know is that not even death stands still within the Wheel of Life.
I seem to be in an ocean of grief. Oceans are kind of scary. Even when you are a short distance from land it can be hard to see the shoreline. There doesn’t seem to be a visible end, just a lot of waves. But as a wise sister recently pointed out, emotions are more akin to waves than rivers. Scientific research even tells us that intense emotion actually pulses - for about 90 seconds we experience emotion in its fullest form and then we have a wave of lesser intensity lasting about twice that amount of time.
If you haven’t made the connection already, this is extremely similar to the rhythms of a birthing woman - a contraction, then a break. I found this reminder to be really comforting for a few reasons. The first being, sometimes it feels like if I allow myself the full expression of an emotion it will never stop, it will be like a dam breaking and the flood will destroy my life. According to research (and, I suppose, a lifetime of experience) your life does not get destroyed because you allow yourself to feel the depths of your sadness. In fact, the emotional release allows endorphins to flood the body, counteracting the cortisol that was building up alongside your emotional vice grip. But isn’t it interesting that our default is often to squash emotion in the hope of avoiding a cataclysmic tsunami event? The truth is, the longer we hang onto and bury emotion, the deeper and more profound the release.
The second reason I found this so comforting is that, just like birth, my biology is on my side. My Body, through generations and generations of alterations (the epigenetic code passed onto all of us by the experiences of our ancestors) has built in a break in order for me to catch my breath during emotional release. During labor, knowing that a break is coming is honestly what allows you to keep going. We can do almost anything for 90 seconds, don’t you agree? (Maybe right now, just pause, and put your hands on your body, and say thank you. “Thank you Body, for designing yourself around the power of my Mind and the depths of my Spirit. Thank you for enabling me to feel the immensity of my human experience. Thank you Ancestors, for your experiences, which have helped create the Body I now reside in.”
And the third reason is that I am a birthing person, I have birthed children and I know the relief, and joy, of birthing. To bring Beings into the world is the ultimate highlight of my life. It is in my very bones, the urge and desire to birth. I was reminded of a quote recently, “Every woman births something.” You don’t have to be a mother to know what it is to birth into reality a creative vision or a transformation of soul. Look at the world around you. The world is waking up, gaining consciousness in an entirely new way. And the movement is led by women. Women, birthing a new world into existence.
My daughter happens to be born on the eve of the solstice. And her birth was one of the most traumatic experiences of my life. The pregnancy led me to such an extreme nutritional deficiency that I have only a handful of concrete memories of her first year of life. I was sick, on bedrest, and depressed. Her birth, which I anticipated to be a gateway into an entirely new and joyous Life, was, instead, a portal primarily of deep darkness and destruction. It was a bookmark in my own Becoming - the birthing of a new me. Within a year of her coming earthside I had separated from my, now, coparent, changed my name, left my family and was left by most of my community, left the christian church, and entered the first stages of what would become, nomadic living. All from birthing a new world, her world.
I think an important reminder the winter solstice offers us is that we have the gifting of darkness to investigate, with kindness and curiosity, our own shadow selves. And in return, there is a promise of a new dawn, a promise of light that will surely return.
The wheel keeps turning. The shadows do pass. We won’t stop ebbing and flowing until death finally calls us to stillness. And even then, the elements within us are made new again - we are always Becoming, even in our Deaths.
I pray that your Winter Solstice is one of Remembering - and Gratitude - and Hope. I pray you feel the immensity of your Shadows, of your Becoming, of your Connection to all things - including the Land that is underneath your feet as you read this. I pray you feel Love and Joy. I pray you let yourself Feel. I pray for You.