Returning to Light
On ritual, attention and the intention of the season
I have a Solstice window. Each year as the sun returns northward the morning light beams through my window radiating its light and warmth to me. Sitting on my couch, I note the light returning.
Perhaps it predates us stretching into a mysterious past - the celebrations and trust embodied by the human weal manifest across time and cultures in the season of our darkest nights.
From my own childhood. Memories that serve like ritual, that still spark something deeper, recalling them as our family moved with where my dad was posted.
My parents would often test a few churches, sometimes with us in tow, until they settled. The specific denomination -what is mainstream Protestant, often Methodist but others- was not what mattered most. I could not dare to guess what distinguishes them all which never seemed too important. The details of their services, liturgies, and their hymns may have varied. But that’s not what flickers in my memory. All our churches had a candle light service for Christmas Eve.
As seasons shift we mark the depths of our darkest night together. We share what starts as a single flame then spreads one by one until the whole sanctuary is lit. We probably sang Silent Night most times and it was always moving, participatory and communal. Pushing back the night. Preparing for the Light to come.
Not so far from here, at Mesa Verde National Park near Cortez, Colorado, Sun Temple sits atop Chapin Mesa. Built by the Ancestors of Puebloan people almost 1000 years ago, it’s one of the largest ceremonial structures they ever built. From a viewing station at Cliff Palace across the canyon, the winter solstice sun sets between Sun Temple’s two towers while at the bottom of the canyon, a fire pit catches the first rays of its sunrise.
