As snow settles on the ground in the Berkshires I am reminded that the solstice is right around the corner. Every morning at the same time, after a brief meditation I swing in my hammock chair in front of a picture window and write. Each day when I sit it is a tiny bit darker. The transition from July to December mornings has been gradual, and I no longer see the old oak tree silhouetted in the distance. The sky now appears inky black, with just the faintest hint of light peeking up from the horizon. This is my first time observing this transition in the morning light. This daily shift reminds me of my spiritual growth, which is as gradual as the change of the seasons. I do not notice either my spiritual changes or light changes as they occur. I only see shifts when I sleep in for a few days and return to my writing chair, the days having gotten shorter during my absence. I look forward to the time when I will see my oak tree and hear the songbirds, but for today the dark reminds me to go within, to spend a few extra minutes in the quiet morning nestled in my cozy apartment. Even if I feel that life is not moving at the speed I wish it were, it is still moving, I am still growing up, day by day. This morning ritual has allowed me patience and an understanding that although it may not seem that my life is changing, if I can step back for a bit, the transformation will become apparent.
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