Tomorrow is the shortest day of the year, the winter solstice.

For the last few days, I've noticed the light and mood around 4pm, when daylight is fading away, marking the onset of evening. It leaves me with a mixture of both melancholy and gratitude.  Photo by ahisgett.

My mind returns to eight years ago, almost to the day, when I was packing up my belongings from my last corporate job, a result of being laid off. I had hoped to leave earlier, but somehow, it took me until nearly the end of the day to clear out my office.  Standing in my empty cubicle, my manager said, "You are leaving too soon."  She felt bad about the decision to let me go. Sure of the path that I was now on, I firmly replied, "No, it's not too soon. Not at all." I knew that it was my time to fly, to become an independent whatever and carve out my own destiny. I had no intention of looking for a job at another company. Photo by ahisgett

As she escorted me to the front lobby, both of us with bags and boxes in hand, I ran into a colleague. He had no idea I was leaving, and mistakenly thought it was my manager who was going.  I corrected him by saying, "No, I'm the one leaving." With those words, reality sunk in.  I started to sob.  I can still remember the harsh fluorescence lights of that big atrium, enclosed by large windows now turning dark.  It was about 4pm.  

I drove to my sister-in-law's house, as part of a planned outing to pick out a Christmas gift for my parents. I can remember the feeling of day turning to night and lights becoming blurry through the tears. When I arrived at her house, the sky had a soft glow, as if to invite me into the comfort and anonymity of darkness. I was grateful that my sister-in-law would not see my face in the light of day, puffy eyes behind tear-stained glasses.

As the door opened, my two-year old niece slowly revealed herself.  She was completely naked, except for black patent leather shoes on her feet.  She greeted me as if nothing, really nothing, was out of order.  I burst out laughing.  I was grateful for what life had handed me–perspective in the middle of my misery.

I said hello to my sister-in-law. I don't remember asking her, but I must have requested that she help me with a closing ritual in her backyard before going on our shopping trip.  I had brought a print out of my farewell email to my colleagues.  The moon was now high in the sky. Under its gaze, we burned the note in a clay pot, watching as white paper turned into black ash. My sister-in-law lit a sprig of dried sage and circled the pot with the smoke, as if to draw a boundary between the past and the present.  It made me feel better. Photo by Glen Bowman

Now, eight years later, I am sitting in my office, on the eve of Winter Solstice, reading an email that a friend from high school and college has died.  My first thought is, "It's too soon."  At 49, it feels like it's too soon for a contemporary to be gone.  But my friend, who would have appreciated the sadness on his behalf, would also have used his quick wit to make light of our bereavement.  I can almost hear him saying, "No, it's not too soon. And could you stop being so saccharine?"  He's on a new path, for sure.

In the depths of darkness, there is a seed of a light that will grow in the coming days.  From tears that mark an end, comes the emotional hardiness we need for the next leg of our journey.  Life has been more than kind to me. In this moment, I've never felt more blessed and grateful for everything in my life, from loving family and friends to great work and health to comfortable surroundings. I'd like to think my friend is feeling some of that right now as well. Photo by kabils

My friend, Dave, who lives literally across the street from one of the deepest parts of Lake Michigan, in northern Michigan, sent me this poem by Walt Whitman, titled Halcyon Days.  He tells me that "halcyon days" refer to the two weeks on either side of the winter solstice:

Not from successful love alone,
Nor wealth, nor honor'd middle age, nor victories of politics or war;
But as life wanes, and all the turbulent passions calm,
As gorgeous, vapory, silent hues cover the evening sky,
As softness, fulness, rest, suffuse the frame, like fresher, balmier air,
As the days take on a mellower light, and the apple at last hangs
really finish'd and indolent-ripe on the tree,
Then for the teeming quietest, happiest days of all!
The brooding and blissful halcyon days!

What does the winter solstice bring up for you?