Carol Fisher-Linn
December 21, 2024, 4:21a.m. EST shepherds in the first day of winter, the shortest day and the longest night of the year, and the celebration of Winter Solstice.
Our earliest ancestors kept track of the days by watching the sun move across the sky and cast shadows during the day and at different times of the year. When winter solstice arrived, it was the ancient time for festivals, some of the oldest of humankind. The ancients looked at this time as a death and rebirth of Mother Nature’s powers, while renewing their own souls. In their way of looking at it, the old sun dies and the new one is born at dawn December 22. Winter solstice is a time for giving heed to the return of the light which may lead us to give thought to peace on earth in these tumultuous times, given the proximity to so many holy days of peace. The quest for peace on earth might lead us to finding our own. Maybe by slowing down? Becoming more aware of the beauty surrounding us? More reflective? Bringing nature into our own homes? Perhaps even finding it in our recreation?
the hill to fi nd the bison. On that cold wintery hill, with the beasts as attendants, and the stars lighting the sky, I felt baptized. I sat a long time facing the beast until the calf nudged him, seeking attention or comfort, much as I did. I rolled up the window and slowly pulled away, fi lled with peace and</em a sense that all was right with the world. It was only a moment, but it gave me a deeper insight into how nature teaches us to honor the way we are impacted by the change of seasons.
Back in my skiing days, I used to love to get to The Valley after the kiddoes went off to school and be first up the lift after a generous snowfall. Skiing alone in the early morning through the fresh powder, the morning sun casting shadows of the snow-laden trees with not a soul in sight was the closest I could get to heaven and still have my feet on the ground. I heard the swish, swish of my skis and I was dazzled by the brilliance of the sun reflected on the snow. Slowly, my soul remembered what heaven was like; peace found me and I was filled with serenity. Nature has a way of helping us find our spiritual selves.
The solstice helps us to get in touch in much the same way if we create an environment to bring ourselves to the solstice table. Years ago, when the bison were still up on Horn Hill Road, on Winter Solstice night, I would grab a glass and bottle of wine and drive to the hill to find the bison. In those days, we were blessed to be able to enjoy them up close and personal with only a fence between them and the grassy strip between the fence and the road. Back then, there was nary an artificial light to be seen over the vastness. As I recall, the only light came from the stars and for all the times I did this, I do not remember a moon in the sky. I parked on the grass, opened the window, and poured myself a glass of merlot. In the stark silence I could have heard a shooting star. The behemoths were curious and before long one slowly moved toward me, lowing in the quiet of night, saving its bellows for the morning. A young calf followed, bleating softly. It was then the magic happened. With only a fence between us in this dark mystical world, I made a low-pitched sound and the magnificent beast grunted back at me. Ever so slowly, I held up the glass of merlot and gave a toast and a prayer for this magnificent beast no further from me than the width of the car. I held perfectly still. If anyone were watching they would have observed a diorama much like the shadowy starlit scenes seen on a Hallmark Christmas card. In that magical moment, I understood why the ancients believed that the solstice was a time of rebirth, of newness, of peace and renewal. On that cold wintery hill, with the beasts as attendants, and the stars lighting the sky, I felt baptized. I sat a long time facing the beast until the calf nudged him, seeking attention or comfort, much as I did. I rolled up the window and slowly pulled away, filled with peace and a sense that all was right with the world. It was only a moment, but it gave me a deeper insight into how nature teaches us to honor the way we are impacted by the change of seasons.