Fermenting and Seasoning

As the Winter Solstice is upon us, I find myself pondering the light and the darkness, and the teachings of both. We live in a culture that often values light as ‘good’, and darkness as ‘bad’, but in nature, both exist in balanced harmony. Much like the image of the Taiji, Yin, symbolic of dark, and Yang symbolic of light, are balanced, and the essence of one rests deeply within the other, always connected.

Darkness teaches us to slow down and practice self-care if we allow it. It offers up time for self-reflection. It encourages surrender to deep rest (Yin). Darkness brings new awareness of our physical senses, even a commonly repeated action feels different in the dark, requiring our mindful attention. It invites us to give ourselves permission to move slowly and with ease. Darkness summons our awareness of the beauty of light. It urges us to make the most of the sunlit hours that may come our way.

As the days lengthen, we feel our unfolding, like a delicate blossom opening to the morning light. We feel a quickening in anticipation of the bursts of energy and new growth that shimmer on the horizon. The plans and insights of the winter months take shape and call us to action (Yang). We welcome the heightened energy and bright, sunlit hours. If we are wise, we may realize that embracing both darkness and light bring us gifts to enrich our lives.

In his writing, Persian lyrical poet Hafiz says this:

Don’t surrender your loneliness so quickly Let it cut more deep Let it ferment and season you As few human Or even divine ingredients can. Something missing in my heart tonight Has made my eyes so soft My voice So tender My need of God Absolutely Clear.”~ Hafiz

The past two years have brought challenges to us all. Isolation and separation, fear and frustration, uncertainty, loneliness and longing, are not uncommon themes, and not to be taken lightly. As I talk with people far and wide the sense of loneliness and separation in these winter months has been heightened by the state of the world. So the line “Let it ferment and season you” caught my attention.

How can we do this in a way that supports us and brings us into balance? So how can we welcome the quiet darkness, and invite the lightness of our own being to shine? How can we allow the darkness to inform us and nurture us? What can each of us do to bring more kindness, more love, more generosity, more patience, more appreciative joy forward in the stillness of the night? Can the darkness of the winter months envelop us warmly like a cocoon, preparing the way for our emergence into the light, giving us glimpses of awareness and deeper understanding? Can we trust that both the lightness and darkness of our souls can soften our gaze and open our hearts? Can we embrace our vulnerability? Can we have the courage to reach out to others to offer or receive some measure of love? Can we generate our inner light in a way that harmonizes with the outer darkness? Can we learn to experience both our shadow and our brilliance with equal value and understanding?

David Whyte speaks of another form of ‘fermenting and seasoning’ in his poem ‘Faces at Braga', where he speaks of the faces in carved statues in an old Nepali monastery. “… If only our own faces would allow the invisible carver’s hand to bring the deep grain of love to the surface.” This will be my New Year's mantra.

Recent weeks brought some unexpected challenges my way, things that forced me to step back and stop, to allow for physical healing, and to stay much more still than I am used to! There were gifts in this, and much to be thankful for in the face of unexpected adversity. If we can call on self compassion and acceptance to see us through these times, we know that adversity can make us stronger.

However, our strength may not come without first embracing our vulnerabilities, our uncertainties, our faith. Rather than push them away, can we lean into them with kindness and compassion? These life challenges remind us to offer more compassion and support to others, knowing that they, too, experience these human frailties. Each day, can we summon more love, more trust, and more gratitude so as not to leave room for fear or unwritten anxieties? I practice as we do in classes, trying to keep myself grounded in body and mind, breathing deeply, and doing activities and yoga to create a calm sense of spaciousness within. I try to think of all the things I feel gratitude for, rather than all the things I can question or worry about. “If only my face would allow the invisible carver’s hand to bring the deep grain of love to its surface.”

I invite each of you to reach out to me if any of this resonates or prompts reflective thought. Sometimes sharing stories, looking vulnerabilities in the eye, facing our fears and inviting love to come in is both the hardest and most welcome thing we can do. If you wish, please share your ideas, explore common challenges, and offer your strategies. Our connection, even online, is an important part of finding that balance between the light and the dark, living with an open heart, and embracing this journey of the seasons.

I’ve had to accept this liminal space that has been surrounding me, not just passively but with warm trust. I hope to resume classes and make some new offerings in mid January, amidst this sea of uncertainty. I’m waiting for my schedule with the Center for Mindfulness and Public Safety, and working with an amazing friend and community builder in Pennsylvania to offer Mindful Resilience for Youth as part of the offerings in the centre he has created. Workshops and plans are still taking shape. The darkness will bring us to the light, and so it goes.

I wish each of you all the promise and blessings of the Winter Solstice, and much health and prosperity in the New Year. May you be safe, may you be happy, may you be well.

Dale