Have you noticed the darker the night, the brighter the stars?
Their gentle twinkle, their pinpoints of light?
Their magic upon which we wish as a child as the “starlight, starbright, first star I see tonight” comes gently, unrushed into view. Brightening as the day drifts away, sliding west, awakening the other side of the world.
The dark of the night focuses us and frees us in the same moment.
I thought about this one evening as I stared into a candle, and in my mind it grew into a warm and comforting bonfire, my face warmed by the glow, my back chilled by the air as I was transported to some forest by a river in the dark of the night.
It’s one of those mysterious things, isn’t it?
Fire.
Whether of a candle, a log, or the distant glow of star galaxies away, their light pulls us in as the darkness sets us free.
Free to let go of the day.
Free to let go of our responsibilities.
Free to drift into our dreams.
Free to unburden ourselves of what we spend so many daylight hours defending.
Free to drift into the world of “what-ifs” and possibilities.
Have you ever noticed when a group of people sit around a bonfire, they talk of dreams and emotions, feelings and insights, possibilities and regrets rather than arguing about who is right and who is wrong?
They feel more, think less.
Listen more, argue less.
Silence is so much less awkward as we find comfort in those flames and the souls around us while drifting into our internal thoughts and feelings.
“Silent Night, Holy Night” goes the song. “All is calm, all is bright.”
This time of year can bring so many things for us:
Times of joy.
Times of sorrow.
Times of hope.
Times of loss.
Time to remember.
Time to forget.
Those long nights and short days — they’re a stark reminder of life’s contrasts: presence and absence, certainty and doubt.
My Christmas wish for you is the glimmer of the stars, the spirit of the bonfire.
That in these long dark nights, we let go of the knowing and simply drift with those we love — the families we are born into and the family we have chosen along the way — into the magic of the night around a glowing, warm bonfire, as the stars keep watch above.
That we simply sit, and stare, and feel, and love, and hurt if we need to, and know that beyond all the chaos and dirt and pressures of the light of day lives a place, a time of the day when you can let that go and connect to your spirit.
In the end, isn’t that what this time of year is all about? It’s not meant for division or being “right,” it’s not meant for arguing or facts.
It’s meant for being
And loving
And accepting
And caring
And listening
And sharing.
This season, may you find your head in the stars and your heart sitting around the bonfire of life with all the people that matter — past, present, future, easy, difficult — all of them significant.
Silent night.
Holy night.
All is calm.
I wish for you that.
The year has enough loud in it, enough evil and chaos in the bright light of day.
Let this season of darkness be the season of holy calm and quiet that leads us to our heart — and to those we love and those we want to love, no matter how difficult.
I love you. And I am honored you have joined me in this journey.
- What a magical sounding year.
Photo by Clint McKoy on Unsplash
