Today, December 21st, marks the Winter Solstice in North America, when the least sunlight bounces back with promise. We start the trek towards Spring, then Summer. From now on, every day gets longer. The dead of winter is the incubation of spring and summer.
Edited by David Stone
Here’s a look through history….
Sun’s slumber, light’s rebirth: A kaleidoscope of solstice stories
1. Golden slumber: In ancient Egypt, the sun god Ra dipped into the golden Nile, his fire swallowed by darkness. Yet, a lotus bloomed, promising his return.
2. Jagged teeth of winter: Norsemen saw the sun devoured by the wolf Skoll, biting away at daylight. But Thor, the thunder god, chased him off, bringing back the sun’s smile.
3. Stone whispers: At Stonehenge, the sun’s dagger pierced a great stone, marking the shortest day. Druids danced, chanting for the sun’s return.
4. Yule log’s ember glow: Celts piled logs, sparks dancing against the night. The fire, a promise that even in winter’s grip, life smoldered, waiting to blaze.
5. Mithras’ underground dance: Romans celebrated the birth of the sun god Mithras, a rebirth from the darkness like a seed pushing through the earth.
6. Incan sun chariot: High in the Andes, the Inca king offered gold and llamas to the sun god Inti, pleading for his chariot to rise again, chasing away the winter chill.
7. St. Lucia’s crown of flame: In Sweden, a girl crowned with candles, a living torch, chased away the darkness, her light a symbol of hope in the long night.
8. Kwanzaa’s seven flames: African Americans lit the kinara, each candle a principle, a reminder that even in the darkest times, light can be found within.
9. Yule log’s crackle and pop: Families gathered, stories shared, flames flickering like fireflies against the winter sky. A reminder that even in darkness, warmth and joy can be found.
10. New beginnings: Across cultures, the solstice whispered of renewal, a turning point. The days would lengthen, the sun return, and life would bloom anew.
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The winter solstice, a tapestry woven from ancient myths, crackling fires, and whispered hopes. A reminder that even in the darkest night, the promise of light always remains.
As the Dust Settles
The way the wind cuts across the river this time of year. The way older buildings hold heat but never quite hold air. I told myself that was why my chest felt tight again on certain mornings. Age, perhaps.
