Light. I want to say a few words about light.

For the past two weeks, I’ve found myself at the ending and beginning of each day, staring at the lights on my holiday tree.
In the dark. No other lights on.
Sometimes (and I kid you not) for hours on end.
The other night until well past 1 a.m.
Staring.
Wait. That’s not it. It’s not staring.
Meditating? Maybe.
Connecting? Yes, that’s it.
Connecting.
With all the ancestors.
The ones who have come before me, come before you.
The ones who have come before to sit, stand, look at, pleaded with and prayed to the light.
Because, even though the darkness is lengthening right now, the ones who have come before know what we who are here now know: That the light will return.
And that, while the darkness still has lessons to teach and gifts to offer, it is only the light that can guide us through the final passages of this year.
And so we wait.
Busy with our preparations for the many celebrations we humans have created for these days. Celebrations stretching back perhaps 12,000 years (far longer than a single pandemic or good year or bad year).
Busy, but at the same time increasingly still inside.
Because, in just a few days more, we know that the light will return.
And we will be in awe.
And we will be alive.
And we will begin.
Again.

This-n-That is just that (and this!): A collection of words that don’t fit elsewhere, but that I still want to share.