At a place not far from where I lived in my early twenties, people are gathering now: lucky people. They’ve won the annual lottery, into which neither money nor position can buy a place. You either make it or you don’t: 20 people a day, for about four mornings, once a year.
These people will get to see the light, literally, at the Newgrange Mound.
No one knows exactly how long this structure in the cold east country of Ireland has stood: Celtic or proto-Celtic, it predates Stonehenge by a good thousand years. Despite its age, the Newgrange Mound was clearly built by people with knowledge of astronomy and seasonal change.
Those people knew precisely when the sun would rise on the shortest day of the year. They built a passage that led to the deepest heart of the structure. That passage, and the roofbox that opens it, allow in only the first beams of daylight, and only on the winter solstice. The light illuminates that spot for a few minutes and then is gone.
Once a year.
The season that everyone now calls “the Holidays” is a tough time for many. A couple of decades ago, I joined their number. I never understood the heft of that membership until I passed the threshold. As you know if you too are a member, there is no crossing back over.
In this time of parties, gifts, sales, the scent of sweet-and-piney-whatever hanging heavy and still in the crisp air, doesn’t it all just seem to go on a bit longer each year? Isn’t it tiring, rolling in the crowd, when you can’t feel what they feel?
And yet. We long to join back in. We long to feel it again, what we felt when we were small: wonder.
The British Isles in winter are the coldest place I have ever been: cold and wet. The buildings ache with age, and often there’s nowhere to go to escape the damp. The sun really does rise at nine a.m., and it’s dark again “ if you’re in, say, Scotland, in early January “ before 3 in the afternoon. Sources of radiant heat and light are in short supply. Fortunately, people there are the kindest I’ve met.
Those people know what it means to wait for brighter days. I believe they’ve known for centuries. I saw them hibernate, then edge back into the light when it returned, in April and May. They were white and frail as they always are by then, but the sun did come back. They know this, from some honest place inside. It always returns.
Those shafts of light, as they filter through to the place deep inside the Newgrange Mound: those are hope. They are the very beginning of the end of darkness. This is the sign: the longest night of the year has passed. Things will get better now. Our belief in things getting better makes the better days begin.
On this longest night of the year, I send out wishes:
- To all those starting over (like Don hell, like everyone on Mad Men)
- To all those living with loss (like Don, Pete, Betty, and Sally)
- To all those dealing with more difficulty than they expected (like Joan)
- To all who have had to change their plans (like Joan, Don, Roger, Sal, and Trudy)
- To all who are separated from loved ones (like Don, Sally, and Bobby)
- To all who struggle to make ends meet (like Joan, like Carla)
- To all who wait and work, daily, for those better days. Like all of us.
The longest night will pass. It always does. In the meantime, I thank everyone here “ for the hearth of your friendship, in good times and bad.
I’ll see you in the morning.
17 Responses to “Solstice”
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Happy Solstice to all. And welcome back, young god. We have missed you.
As someone who has also lived (and indeed continues to live) not far from Newgrange, I am thrilled & fascinated to see it mentioned on this blog. Newgrange was itself nearly destroyed earlier in this century, and its continuing survival against all the odds is testimony to the power of hope.
Sorry. Should have read "early in the last century" – I am still in 1960s time line.
Ruth! You live there?
I am envious. Newgrange tops my my Life List's to-do items. And no one celebrates Christmas (or New Year, even more so) better than any inhabitant of the British Isles.
Enjoy your long nights, lovely food, and and lovelier people. Hugs to you.
And to you, DB.
#4 Anne B: You live there?
Born & bred. I see Roger Sterling lookalikes on a daily basis – John Slattery belongs to a particularly distinctive Irish type – I find it hard to take him seriously as a WASP. Roger's personality (possibly influenced by John) is also very Irish. Don Draper, not so much – although he has been compared on occasion to Gregory Peck, who looked Irish. Cosgrove is also an Irish name, as of course is Farrell (not too many Suzanne lookalikes around here though)
Aww, Anne B. Always brilliant. I wag my head in both envy and awe, and maybe a little disgust, too. Because, really. Always on point. How is that possible? How do you do it?
A Sunny Solstice to you Anne B !
Increasingly, I have this feeling you and I were twins separated at birth.
I then was raised by timber wolves; you, by gallic sylphs.
happy festivus!
hull,
… with a little help from my friends? Sounds flippant, but around here it's true.
However, at this time of year the inspiration always finds me.
I think my parents did their best trying to raise me Catholic and then gave up sometime after Confirmation. Now, it's clear what I was supposed to be. I'm a Pagan. No one can hide the dark from me — or the light, when it finally comes.
And to you, my wilderness brother.
As you brought up festivus, I should inform you that this year I have no grievances to list against you. You haven't disappointed me at all.
However, those feats of strength … ?
My parents, alas, are Catholics. They grow more alarmed with me by the day. I am the family freak. In fairness: when you start with six, you'll be lucky to have just one.
By the way: I slid over to the Pierre earlier. Nice Henge!
Beautiful post. I was lucky enough to visit Newgrange about 14 years ago. It is amazing and I can't imagine what it's like on the solstice.
Have a good long night.
Thank you.
Anne B, what a lovely, true post. Thank you. My best wishes for getting through the long days. I don't find them easy, myself.
This is so, so beautiful. Really helps get through this longest night.
And thanks to you, Deb and Roberta, for giving me a place to finally post this.
I love you both!
Thank you, and the same to you.
Anne B.,
You NEED to write a book. The world needs your words so much, in a form that we can pick up and always come back to.
But thank you to the Lipp Sisters for keeping such a wonderful space for these sacred outlets!
You are magical. I wish you (and everyone else!) a fulfilling Solstice and thank you for this prayer.
How lovely. Thank you Anne B and Lipp Sisters. My 2009 was brighter because of this site and the contributors. Love to all.