Solstice Reverie

The Chinese believe that the earth stands still for three days at the winter solstice, that delicate time when the energy shifts from yang to yin. I feel it, as I walk the Rio Grande gorge rim, a timeless place of power where raven's wing brings me into focus. What is it about water and rock that makes me lose my bearings? Where an American Wigeon floating through water and the ice thrills the soul?

I am happy to be in the southwest, where the sun's southern path isn't a figment of my imagination as it was in Montana, where I hardly saw the golden orb in winter. Here, I will witness the sun's path north in the shadows on the canyon walls, as I will watch the moon rise above the Sangre de Cristo peaks, set behind Georgia O'Keefe's flat-topped Pedernal.

Yes. I am happy to be back in the land of smooth curved adobe; mud walls where straw protrudes and dirt is shed like a horse's coat.

I spied the bighorn sheep along the mesa this week; saw them three evenings in a row. Their white butts protruded from the faded green sage brush. Rams with large curved horns knelt down to spend the cold evening under a star-speckled night.

The earth remains, ensconced in her seasonal cycles, as the Mayan calendar runs its course. To be still is the imperative. To receive the blessings of this cosmos and open the senses to the unknown. As the bear that dens in winter shows us, it is the time of gestation. January, the darkest, coldest month is upon us. Rich darkness pervades, raining revelations that lead the way to light.

Blessed be.