I love the velvety silent darkness of December. I love how early it brings the evening and wraps the world away from the cold, driving people inside to warm fireplaces and cozy blankets. But I also love that this empty slate of time is not destined to get emptier and emptier. Yes, we need to wipe away the things that did not work, the broken failures in our lives. We need to breathe in fresh, cold nothingness for a time. But when the longest night is over, the sun with its warmth and life takes its extra minutes in the sky and declares darkness and loss is not our destiny. It may not come all at once, but the heat of creation will spark rebirth and renewal, just a few minutes at a time. And we can start anew.


Here's a poem I like by Oliver Herford:

I HEARD A BIRD SING

I heard a bird sing
In the dark of December
A magical thing
And sweet to remember.

'We are nearer to Spring
Than we were in September,'
I heard a bird sing
In the dark of December.