Season of Light

The house is full of light. Three trees are decorated, and the mantel has greenery and fairy lights and little houses all lit up as though there are warm fires and celebrations going on inside them. The half wall behind my couch has a lighted row of London landmarks. Even the Globe Theatre is shining, something that would not have happened in Shakespeare's day for fear of fire, ironically enough.   And the island in my kitchen has a lighted centerpiece, a clear polymer stag surrounded by more fairy lights and greenery. Candles grace nearly every flat surface. 

I keep my Christmas decorations up at least until New Year. I would keep them up until Epiphany, but I hate to take them down so badly that I break down and put everything away earlier so that the feeling of dread will be gone sooner. I think it has to do with my Celtic ancestry. The ancient Celts lit bonfires around the time of the winter solstice in order to keep the darkness at bay and invite the sun to return in the great wheel of the seasons. Many cultures have some sort of ritual at this time of year that assures them that the cold and darkness will not last forever.

Those who follow this blog know that this has been a very rough year for me. I need the light now more than any year before. Maybe I'll actually make it to January 6th this year. I need to keep the darkness away. I need to invite the sun back into my life, back into my spirit, back into my soul.