by James Sands
Here, it is a beautiful solstice day. The morning light partially illuminating the trees, the patches of bare earth, the swaths of snow-dusted ground, pierces the shadows with a depth of intensity and urgency that compels me to embrace this day, revel in it, marvel at the unrelenting beauty inherent in the cycle of the seasons. Be aware, be close, be grateful for this gift. This is momentous; this is life.
Typically, I try and write some small poem for Crystal’s journal, which she kindly accepts and publishes—part of the glue to our marriage, I suppose. But the ardent interplay of light and shadow this morning, the power of the message it contains, seems beyond my meager poet’s pen. Our longest night approaches, culminating this latest season of darkness. Tomorrow, the light will once again begin to slowly, inevitably work back the night and incrementally reveal the promise of the growth that is to come. Be aware, be close, be intimate with this gift. This is opportunity; this is hope.
I revel in the promise of the solstice. In nature, there is a balance, and when there is not, there is disease and death, but ultimately, there is also correction. Nature gives what is necessary and takes what is needed, and nature, without human interference, inevitably rights the balance.
Humans are not exempt from this code, although many might think they are. There are many among us who function outside any semblance of balance, any sense of obligation toward equilibrium, or any thought of equability. Theirs is a diseased perspective in which they answer only to laws of their own making, laws that serve only their own accumulation regardless of the destruction they might bring to others. Solstice sunrise for them signals only an opportunity to get an early read on stock prices from markets outside their time zones.
I am reminded of packs of domestic dogs that are allowed to roam unchecked. If opportunity presents, they can kill unprotected livestock with impunity. They do not kill for survival or out of need. Theirs is a diseased perspective, which becomes an unrelenting greed serving no other end than an unnatural lust for blood. They function outside of any balance of nature, any will of domesticity, any thought of a common equilibrium.
In such unnatural cases, those who witness must step in, become the light, and right the balance. We must hold in check those who would facilitate the darkness and unabatedly consume and accumulate for themselves to the detriment of all else.
I am reminded this solstice to live as much as possible in harmony with the seasons, to be grateful for the natural laws and the balance that governs nature. I will grow with the light, and my abundance will come from having enough from the work that I do. I will be content with the seasons. I do not live to accumulate, and I will find harmony in that balance.
May the promise of the growing light be present and apparent for all of you.
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photo credit: David Wirzba, Unsplash
James Sands is an essayist and a poet who lives and works on a small homestead in Downeast Maine. He cultivates a tenth of an acre annually, using hand tools, into an organic garden from which he feeds his family. James lives by the seasons; he finds his comfort and solace in nature and spends a majority of his time outdoors. He aspires to be a life-long learner and has spent a great deal of time in the schools of observation and contemplation where he finds inspiration for his writing. His poems have appeared in Farmerish Journal and in Syncopation Literary Journal. He has published one chap book of poetry for children, Why the Moon Tumbled Out of the Sky and Other Poems, with Blue Moose Publishing.