You shine, all living things emerge. You disappear, they go to rest. Recognizing our innocence, O golden-haired Sun, arise; let each day be better than the last.
– Rig Veda (X, 37, 9)
It happens every year; the long, chilly nights of December find me wrapped up in soft throws and cozy socks beneath a warm reading lamp, a mug of tea at my elbow. To
counterbalance the diminishing daylight, stacks of required readings make way for beloved paperbacks with their yellowing pages and cracked spines. Stories lovingly boxed
and carted from one domicile to the next, they mark each new space as “home” by the very act of being reshelved. Reading by the light of my artificial sun facilitates relaxation
and imparts armor against the frigid darkness that extends past the morning alarm. In truth, this self-sequestering makes it possible to sustain productivity during these hyper busy shortening days. It also offers a bridge towards a more restful time once the semester finally arcs to its end. Humans need rituals to brace against the winter for both rest and hope. It is why so many religious festivals at this time of year in the northern hemisphere feature fire and hymns to light. Even if we now understand the science behind seasonal variations in light length and intensity, these communal winter gatherings often instill comfort and gladness. Alone, or in the company of others, the body craves warmth and light.
In the next few weeks, as daylight hours ebb and winter claims a stronger grip, what sustaining rituals will carry you through each day?