Light incarnate!

Today is the Winter Solstice.

The first day of actual winter and the shortest of the year – all I know is Baby it’s DARK out there!!!  Grey days and long nights send me close to crazy.  I can’t even imagine ancient peoples who thought the sun was extinguishing itself as each day grew shorter and shorter.  To calm their fears and appease the universe, folks lit giant bonfires as a way of honoring the sun and it’s role in Life.  Just like if I yawn – you yawn, and most people smile in turn when they receive a smile, their big ball of fire down here on teeny, tiny earth was a gentle reminder to the sun god to keep on keepin’ on.

Today, many cultures continue to celebrate the winter solstice with dance, music and yes, fire.  There is a contemporary tradition to burn a piece of paper on which you’ve written a wish for the coming year.  The smoke carries the aspiration out into the cosmos as a sort of heavenly “gentle suggestion”.

Just like the ancients, I like to light something on fire but I do so purely for the beauty of the light and the warmth it casts.  An article by Greg Atkinson that appeared in yesterday’s Seattle Times, captured my heart and imagination. Atkinson beautifully articulated the way he sees light, the sun, our garden and food as they twine together and sustain us.  Or, as I like to think of it – Light Incarnate.

Here’s an excerpt from his article entitled “Chocolate walnut pie with bourbon offers warmth in winter“:

THE WINTER solstice in these northern latitudes finds most of us rising before dawn and going to bed long after the sun is set. What we likely need is light and warmth, but what we seem to crave is lots of dense, rich, calorie-laden food and drink.

I have a theory about that. Time and again, I’ve come to realize that food is essentially concentrated sunlight.

Think about it. Plants convert solar energy into carbohydrates. Animals eat the plants and convert the energy into more concentrated forms like fat and protein. Under special circumstances, microscopic yeast can concentrate those carbs into energy-rich alcohol in the form of beer and wine, and when it’s distilled, the energy is even more concentrated. I’m painting in large strokes here, and the details are more complex, but generally speaking, food and drink are like sunlight.

I find that very inspiring – and a great explanation for why I can’t seem to get enough shortbread these days.  The article concludes with the recipe for the bourbon chocolate pie from the title.  Chef Atkinson says it was on a recent trip to Kentucky during a bourbon tour that his idea completely “distilled” (sorry – my bad pun, not his).

Even though the pure spirits were virtually undrinkable, in its clear, burning essence the liquid had the quality of sunlight concentrated through a magnifying glass.

On this longest night of the year, in what are very dark times for many, we are all looking toward the light.  Whether you lift your glass in a toast, light a wisp of a wish, or kindle a big bon fire – I hope you’ll join me and many others tonight as we welcome the sun back on it’s gradual return to summer and give thanks for all it provides.

Tagged as: natural drama, the environment