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This is the time of year for bringing light to the darkness.
Earlier this month my kindergartner’s class had a Winter Spiral walk — a tradition that celebrates the returning of light. The event was held in the evening. There was a large spiral of evergreen boughs on the floor. The room was dark except for a light in the center of the spiral and the soft light of a lamp that let the high-school violinist and viola player read their music. Except for that music, the room was quiet. I was sitting with the other parents in folding chairs along one side of the room.
After a few minutes, we heard the sound of our children filing into the room — just the music and the clomping of two dozen kindergartners across a wooden floor. They sat down on benches and watched attentively as one of their teachers showed them how to walk the spiral. She didn’t say anything. The children had heard about this earlier in the day. Now she just showed them what to do. She entered the spiral, walking around and around through the darkness until she reached the center. There she picked up a small light, walked a short way from the center, and nestled her light into the greenery. Then she walked out, around and around.
Another teacher let the first child know that it was his turn to walk the spiral. He also walked the turning path through darkness to the light at the center, picked up a light, and placed it just a bit further along the spiral than the teacher had before him. Each child took their turn. Some walked quickly, some slowly. Some looked at the parents as they walked our way, while others ignored us completely. It was magical, watching them place more and more lights along the spiral — each in their own way — lighting the path for those who came next, and lighting up the room.
As I watched them, it occurred to me that we all have this task. We must find our way towards the light, often through darkness. Our paths are never direct. And when we find the light we must share it with others, to show the way and create something more beautiful than any of us could create alone.
This is a time for reflection, and looking ahead.
A lot has happened for my family this year. And I know that the year to come will bring changes and challenges as well.
I think the feeling of walking in circles in the dark is familiar to most of us. If we’re lucky, we can see the light in the center as clearly as those children did. But usually it’s more difficult. Rarely are we certain that we’ve reached the light we were seeking and we know what to do with it. We often don’t know exactly where we are in our journey in the dark. We just need to keep going.
All the more reason to remember we’re not on this path alone, and to look for guiding lights left by those who walked before us. And to be sure to share the light we find — even if it feels small, even if we’re not sure that it matters. Because it always matters. And together we can create more beauty than any of us can alone.
This is a time for gift giving.
What do you want to share in the year to come? What light do you want to put out there to help guide the way? How are you going to do that?
I’m looking forward to helping people share their stories — their insights, expertise, and creativity — to help share that light with others, and find out what we can create together.
Often we get busy and lose sight of what we’re really trying to accomplish. Or we decide that what we have to share isn’t all that great — someone else must know better, or if it were really a good idea someone would have done it already, or “everybody knows that already.” And even when we are clear about what we want to do and are ready to share that story, how do we share it so that our story — our gift — really makes a difference?
I’m looking forward to hearing your stories. Seeing the light that you have to share. And if you aren’t sure how to share it, let’s talk. We’re all finding our way together.