This is my favorite night of the year.
Honestly, I look forward to it more than cozy Christmas Eves, song-filled midsummer nights, sweet spring darkness, or the ghoulish heaviness of Halloween…
Because for me, winter solstice is about hope.
When I studied Celtic spirituality in college, the seasonal celebrations fascinated me. Yule, celebrated at winter solstice, was my favorite of all. Before electric lights, how dark and cold winter would have been! And near the arctic circle, to watch the days shorten, and shorten, and shorten… The weak would have died. Food would have been scarce. Celebrating winter solstice acknowledged the turning point after which light, life-giving light, would return.
And it was during the night that they celebrated, not the slightly-longer-day-after. They celebrated the longest night seemingly almost in defiance of it, knowing that light would return stronger the next morning and hoping, hoping for all the good things the light would bring months later: rain, heat, harvest, health. Wassail: good health, they said to each other.
To me, winter solstice is more real and powerful than the secular Christmas holiday season. Christmas is supposed to be wonderful, but it isn’t for many. Heavy nostalgia and shallow, sentimental good cheer can intensify feelings of people who are suffering, impoverished, or hurting. People give more during the holiday season for this very reason: it feels wrong for happiness to coexist on the sidewalk with hardship. Shouldn’t we try to even the scales?
In contrast, winter solstice reminds everyone, not just those who are happy, that all things have a turning point, even interminable winter darkness. Icy weather will thaw to spring, then summer, all in perfect and good time. It’s a perfect metaphor for how difficult seasons of life will turn to seasons of amazing beauty. Hope, faith, and joy all intermingle here into peace that runs deep… And under this simple trust lies the fact that it’s hard to deny the constant of change.
We can celebrate the darkest night because seasons always change. We can look forward cherishing hope for spring.
And if Celts in freezing Britain without electricity could celebrate midwinter…then so can we.
Good night, all.
-The Dauntless Princess-