Tonight is the longest night of the year.
In the northern half of the world,
the sun sets early and takes its time coming back.
People have marked this night for thousands of years.
Some lit fires and stayed up together until morning, just to see the sun
come back.
For the next six minutes, you can mark it too, in a quiet way.
Sit or lie down somewhere comfortable, and let your eyes close.
Breathe in slowly through your nose...
cool winter air.
breathe out through your mouth...
warm and slow.
In again...
And out...
letting your body settle into the dark.
One more slow breath in...
as deep as feels easy.
And a long breath out...
like the wind outside, going on and on.
We tend to think of the dark as something to get through.
But it's also where things rest.
Seeds sit under frozen ground all doing winter, nothing you can see.
Let the dark be like that for you A tonight.
heavy A blanket.
place where nothing is asked of you.
Feel your shoulders drop.
Let your hands go still in your lap, or by your sides.
Now think back over this year.
Was there a dark stretch in it?
A time felt when things heavy, or you just couldn't see very far ahead?
You don't have to go all the way into it.
Just look at it from a distance, the way you'd look at a winter
field from a warm window.
And ask it, gently...
what did you teach me?
Maybe it showed you who stayed.
Maybe it taught you to rest when you really needed to.
Maybe you're not sure yet.
That's alright.
Some lessons take a while to show up.
If your mind wanders off while you sit with this, that's fine.
Just come back to the breath, and the quiet.
Now, in the middle of all that dark, picture a single small candle.
Right in of the center your chest.
Watch it catch.
A tiny flame.
Barely more than a flicker at first.
It doesn't light up the whole room.
It doesn't need to.
It's enough to see your own hands by.
If the flame wobbles, that's fine.
Candles do.
It keeps burning anyway.
Breathe in, and let the flame grow a little steadier...
Breathe out, and feel its warmth spread through your ribs.
Stay here with your candle for a while.
The dark around it.
The small, warm light in the middle.
Here's the thing about tonight.
It's the turning point.
From tomorrow,
the days start getting longer again.
Only by a minute or so at first.
You probably won't notice for weeks.
But it's happening, quietly, whether you see it or not.
It happens every year.
Even in the hardest years.
The dark gets as deep get, as it's going to and then it turns.
Maybe something in you is ready to turn too.
Not all at once.
Just a little more light each day.
So let's make a wish for the light that's coming.
Just one.
Say it to yourself.
It might be for someone you love.
It might be something small, like more sleep, or an easier January.
Any wish is allowed.
Hold that wish near your candle.
Let it warm up there.
Now slowly start to move.
Wiggle your fingers.
Let your toes curl and uncurl.
And when you're ready, open your eyes.
It might still be dark outside.
That's The okay.
light is already on its way back.