FACING THE SUN
The coming weekend (1st and 2nd February) is Imbolc, a Celtic tradition that is celebrated midway between the winter solstice (the shortest day) and the spring equinox (when day and night are equal). Although it does not necessarily feel like it, it is a reminder that winter is nearing its end, that spring will come soon. Tender bulbs start to poke their heads above ground, and the sun (when it deigns to appear) feels a bit warmer on our faces.
I look forward to this time of the year. January often feels never-ending, especially after the brightness of the Christmas season, and the days are often grey and cold. I am very happy to partially hibernate in January; evenings on the sofa with a blanket and a good film or series, dog walks in the cold and fog followed by big mugs of tea, and lots of reading. But by this time of the winter, when I lift my face to the sun on the occasional bright day, I begin to stir from my winter snoozing. It makes sense to me. Even though we have artificial light and heat, it follows the natural rhythm of the year (in the northern hemisphere). It makes sense to conserve body heat and energy when one needs to keep warm. Just like the bears in my daughter’s childhood book who snuggled down in their cave and dreamt their way through the winter’s cold and dark.
I can feel a stirring. I kind of want to make some plans again. I start to remember that summer will arrive once more, and I begin to plan a holiday. My brain feels like maybe it would like to read something more taxing. But the biggest change for me is emotional. My anxiety always feels more ready to roar when the year is dark and cold. The promise of coming warmth and light translates itself emotionally, and my anxiety responds in kind. My anxiety is a vindictive and malicious old gnome who perches himself on my shoulder and whispers poison into my ear. Around the time of Imbolc, he starts to quieten down, distracted occasionally by the sun on his face and the bulb shoots appearing. An emotional knot that felt too big to unpick at the beginning of January morphs into a more loosely tied ribbon that I can perhaps unspool with some help. I want to resolve it rather than live with it or ignore it.
New Year’s resolutions should not be made at New Year. Actually, I don’t think they should be made at all but that’s just me. But if you are going to make them, doesn’t it make more sense to make them when the world starts to warm up a bit and there’s more daylight and you actually feel more like going outside to visit the gym or walk for an hour a day or whatever? As spring becomes a promise rather than an idea, I start to think about what I want to learn in the coming year. This year it is to be more my authentic self both physically and emotionally. To resist the habit of changing or being ‘less’ to accommodate others. I also want to learn how to make pasta. Balance.
As I am typing this at my dining table, the afternoon sun is pouring through the window. It is the sun that inspired me to write this today as I was walking my dog in it this morning. The sun is also making it very apparent that the windows are filthy. Oh well, still another week to go until Imbolc.
Tracy Lamers Parke
January 2025