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14 Sacred Blessings of the Season

Winter Wings by Duy Huynh, painting of angel in a snowy landscape

Duy Huynh

Winter is a season for restoring ourselves by slipping into the dark.

It might be my ancient Celtic roots, or maybe it’s my monastic inclinations, but give me a gray day, a day shrouded in mist and peekaboo light. Give me a shadowed nook to slip into, and I wrap myself in the cloak of utter contentment. It’s dark all right, come December, month of the longest night, when minute by minute our dot on the globe is darkening. Yet darkness to me is alluring; it calls me to turn inside, to be hushed, to pay attention. Mine is a lonely outpost; December, most everyone else complains, is unbroken darkness. The way I see it, though, maybe the saddest thing is, we’ve blinded ourselves to the darkness. Cut ourselves off from the God-given ebb and flow of darkness and light. It’s poetry, the rise and the fall of incandescence and shadow. But, mostly, it’s lost on us. The truth is: Darkness draws out our deep-down depths. Darkness is womb, is seed underground. Darkness is where birthing begins, incubator of unseen stirring, essential and fundamental growing. The liturgical calendar, prescriptive in its wisdoms, lights the way: It gives us Advent, season of anticipation, of awaiti …

By Barbara Mahany. Click here for more!

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