Light in the Dark

 

The twelfth day of Christmas has come and gone, but i like to keep my outdoor Christmas tree lights up for another month. The season of darkness begins on Halloween and ends on Groundhog Day. Suddenly, there's light.

For now, i have to be content with outdoor Christmas tree lights, which bring happiness when i look at them.

What brings light into your life these days? For me, it's the kindness of neighbors. A loaf of bread appeared in my kitchen this morning when i wasn't looking. Another neighbor gave me scones today.

So many things to be grateful for today. List yours.

My Tulips are Blooming

The tulips i forced in pots and brought indoors are starting to bloom. So outdoors they go, because they will last longer in the refrigerator weather out there.

The bulbs, which have been hiding out in the gloom of the garage for 4 months, are out in the open air. I think that's a good sign for me, who has been quarantined at home for less than 2 weeks.

Today i was out in a neighbor's woods, cutting down saplings with a friend. We stayed at least 6 feet apart from each other's saws. We are clearing the understory to allow more light and air.

That's what we all need: more light and more air.

Gardeners of the Spirit

Help us to be the always hopeful

Gardeners of the spirit

Who know that without darkness

Nothing comes to birth

As without light

Nothing flowers. 

(from A Grain of Mustard Seed by Kali)

Still Lightning Bugs

A few lightning bugs are still lighting up the fields and forests these hot summer nights. The males fly around and look for the flightless females lying in the grass. The males drop down to mate, and then the female eats the male. Whoa! That is not a happy ending to the story. It turns out that sex (for the fireflies) is dukkha ("bummer!").

This reminds me of a chant.

Separation from the liked is dukkha.

Association with the disliked is dukkha.

Not attaining one's wishes is dukkha.

Well, we could apply all of these to our sexual relationship(s).
Separation from the beloved is (sometimes) distressing and creates a longing.
Association with the disliked (state of aloneness and yearning) creates a desire for change.
Not attaining one's wishes (i will leave the sexual details to your imagination) can create disappointment.

Those beautiful male lightning bugs light up the darkness

Photo from nytimes.com

Solstice Pomegranate Seeds

Another solstice tradition, after smudging, is passing out chunks of pomegranates as we stand around the bonfire.

In Greek mythology, teenage Persephone was abducted by her uncle Pluto. (#MeToo). She has to return every year to this forced marriage because she ate some pomegranate seeds while she was in Hades.

Since we of the North Country are "married" to winter and darkness, we eat some pomegranate seeds on solstice--perhaps to remind us of the sleeping life force within us. Perhaps to remind us that we are in solidarity with Persephone and all the #MeToo women and girls.

As Og Mandino says,

I will love the light for it shows me the way, 
yet I will endure the darkness because it shows me the stars.

We stood around the solstice bonfire with a crescent moon hanging low in the western sky and crystalline stars twinkling above. us.

Full Moon Rising

Last evening we hiked up nearby Putney Mountain to watch the full moon rise (8:02 p.m.) and the sun set, 20 minutes later.

I brought a picnic dinner, thanks to a Thai food vendor at the local farmer's market.

We hiked back down in the dusk, arriving home about nine. I felt so energized and full of joy, being outdoors in the transition time between light and darkness.

Christmas Cactus in January

My Christmas cactus is in full bloom. Hmmm. What to call it? I've heard of Thanksgiving cactus and Easter cactus. Shall i call it Martin Luther King cactus?

Christmas cactus are short-day plants whose blooming is triggered by 14 hours or more of darkness.

My neighbor, Connie, keeps her Christmas cactus beside the sliding glass door in her basement. Since she's not in her basement at night, her Christmas cactus enjoy the cool dark and begin blooming at Thanksgiving.

My Christmas cactus live in the solarium off my living room where the lights can go on and off at any time of day. (I often read before i meditate in the living room at 4:00 a.m. After meditation, i turn on the lights again and write this blog.) My Christmas cactus, like me, find it difficult to get uninterrupted sleep--and they need 14 hours of it. So they're not blooming until after the Christmas tree with all of its lights has left the vicinity.

So it is with meditation. Some of us bloom early, some late, and some in the middle. Whenever it is, it's "just right" for us.

Extreme Darkness

Today is winter solstice--a day of extremes--the shortest day, the longest night. The year 2011 has slipped away, never to return. Our life is slipping away. One year: Gone.

Shall we take the hedonistic approach to "eat, drink, and be merry"? Shall we consume as much as our pocketbooks and consumer society will allow? Or does that wind up feeling like "empty calories"? Full of stuff, stuffing ourselves and our homes, yet oddly dissatisfied, oddly empty.

In the Buddha's time (and also in the Middle Ages), some people thought they could attain heaven by self-mortification.

These are the extremes: hedonism or self-mortification.

But let us consider The Middle Way, the way between extremisms, a path of moderation. In this time of extreme darkness, how might we practice the Middle Way between self-judgment ("I'm so bad.") and ego-tripping ("Look at me! Aren't I great!")?

"Be a lamp unto yourself," the Buddha said. In these days of darkness--external or internal--notice your inner light. Sit. Meditate--even if only for 5 minutes.
Notice the flicker of kindness in your heart. Fan that ember so that it glows throughout the front of your body. Spread that feeling of goodwill throughout the back of your body. Spread it through the right side of your body. Spread it through the left side of your body.
Sit. Feel the body filled with kindness.

End of a Season

Peppers and eggplant like it hot. Now that cool weather has arrived with refrigerator nights, the peppers simply hang on their bushes. Many have turned red, thanks to the length of the season. Eggplants are small, and it's tempting to think they will continue to grow in size--but highly unlikely. Having seen marble-sized eggplant in Thailand, i pick even the thumb-size eggplants, knowing i can cook something with them.

This season reminds me of the end of my parents' lives. I couldn't imagine life leaving them, yet life was definitely waning. No medical intervention could stop that downhill slide.

No amount of hope can reverse the path of the sun as daylight slides into darkness earlier every day.