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Reflections Through Solstice
Reflections Through Solstice
On the winter solstice, the darkest day of the year, the ritual is performed. The community gathers at night in a place of darkness. Then, the initiant for the ritual shares a vision for the coming year. They light a candle, and the room begins to appear. The next person to speak will light their candle as they share their vision. People reveal parts of their personal journey, helping to illuminate the richness of the visions. Whatever we hear--successes, failures, doubts, and hopes--begins to color the room. The shared vision grows with each participant until the room is visible.
Candlemas is celebrated differently in different cultures. I first experienced it with Light Morning, a monastic community in Appalachia that was influenced by Christianity, Buddhism, and what I would describe as the magic tucked away in everyday life. In college, I spent as much time there learning as I could. My first night there was the first time I slept in the River River watershed that I now call home. Today, while reflecting and researching, I learn that the seeds of bioregional thinking, whose growth I nourish today, I first encountered through my friends at Light Morning. Though the word "bioregion" was never uttered to me, it was embodied in the way the community responded to the changes in the world around them.
(Strawberry seedlings, planted with the Circle Roanoke.)
The morning after this year's Candlemas, I met with students and families from Circle Roanoke, a secular homeschooling cooperative. We walked the greenway and were introduced to a game where we experience how bats echolocate. That our youth we were learning how to see in the dark, rights as the sun again begins to brighten our days, I reflect as a good omen.
The following week, we started seedling trays for strawberries. We also started trays for a citizen-science plant breeding project. We hope that in a few years, these amazing passion flower hybrids can be growing in your garden.
(Teddy's successful application for a Healthy Soils grant will keep us on track in building an interconnected and regenerative food system.)
It can be alarming when we cannot see in the dark. But for some, that is simply life. And as much as we teach kids the importance of overcoming challenges, like how blind humans learn to echolocate and can ride their bikes on busy streets, we sometimes need to be reminded of our resilience. I recently finished the Apple TV series See, which explores how humanity recovers from a disease that leaves all survivors blind. Though some of what I thought were the more creative ideas disappeared into the background to advance the plot, the blind community that helped create the series puts on full display how new systems can emerge through resilience and cooperation, and life moves on.
Though resources are still needed to complete our 2026 goals, our commitment to expanding community food production at Heritage Point farm will be aided by a grant award to Farmer Teddy that covers just under half of our projected 2026 infrastructure costs. Please consider a modest recurring monthly donation to help us continue our work. While we are blind about which crisis will be the next to interrupt our lives, we know that a can of food donated helps today, but the community growing its own food helps when there are no cans at the store to donate.
(A seasonal issue I saw with my legal aid clients, ruining homes and setting back lives, a burst pipe at the compost facility was an unexpected problem.)
One thing about celebrating Candlemas is that you begin to understand that we must support this vision for the coming year, and that in time we will again return to the longest night, where we recommit to what our light shows. There will be constant ebbs and flows over time. Flames flicker. And even what seems the clearest vision may hide wisdom only in the subtleties of shadow. So when a pipe bursts, we ebb and flow like the water that is unceremoniously pooling on the floor. The next day, with borrowed tools in hand, we had pipes fixed and water flowing just in time to face more freezing weather.
(I have to wonder what someone could learn about my life if they knew the story behind these objects.)
The winter solstice offers us a chance to connect with the very real cycles that direct life on earth. It's also a chance to peek into the magic in everyday life. As I reflect on a new addition to my memories shelf, a gift as I transitioned out of my work with Legal Aid, I recall a story I was told. The details are fuzzy, but it shares how we can be constantly renewed through interruptions, and become a more complete person through cycles.
A girl is uprooted from her home by violence and is forced into making rope to survive. By chance, she survives until violence again uproots her. This time, she settles into an opportunity making textiles. A third time, the pattern of life is interrupted and, she begins to learn woodworking. But when the fourth interruption arrives, she is able to build a boat and choose the direction she heads.
January 28, 2026
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