We are sleeping in longer these days. About as long as it takes for the sunrise to light up the sky from deep indigo to a pale mauve outside our west-facing (family bed)room windows. That was at about 7:44 a.m. this morning. Cozy in our cocoon of covers, my boys and I blink in the growing light to discuss the colour of the sky as an indicator of whether it’s time to get up for breakfast or not. I always gauge another five more minutes before the sky is ready.
Truth is, the sky is always ready to greet us. For our workday warriors up before dawn, mothers with early-rising babes, farmers choring, night-shifters, early early risers, those not yet asleep… deep in the dark sky there is a sense of secret solace, quiet before the bustle of the day. I plan to one day greet this transition from sweet slumber to curious waking with a walk outside to my sit spot. Where the early rustling of birds will cue nature’s chorus.
For now, during the remainder of these “early years” with my boys, dawn is our precious time to be tangled together in stillness and quiet, in warm cuddles, love, and deep gratitude. For this too shall pass. The sun follows the path of its lowest trajectory this time of year, encouraging us to turn inward, to reflect, embrace silence and to be grateful — an ancestral practice from honouring and learning from the year’s hard labours and harvest.
It wasn’t so long ago that the days turned colder and darker, and here we are already, approaching the time when the sun grows in strength once again. Cycles: sun and moon, nature… my nature. Cycles of death and birth. Prevailing winter winds clear the way for renewed strength, hope and my dedication to living in rhythm with nature.
Where will you be on the shortest day of the year? How will you greet the winter solstice sun? Awake before dawn because you want to, have to… wherever you are, may you witness and breathe in the magic.