Waiting in Darkness

Autumn

The leaves are falling, falling as if from far up,

as if orchards were dying high in space.

Each leaf falls

as if it were motioning "no."

And tonight the heavy earth is falling

away from all other stars in the loneliness.

We're all falling. This hand here is falling.

And look at the other one. It's in them all.

And yet there is Someone, whose hands

infinitely calm, holding up all this falling.

Rainer Maria Rilke

November 15^th is the beginning of the 40 days of the Celtic Advent season, echoing the 40 days of Lent. We marked it at the Bield with an inspiring retreat day of singing and meditation led by Meri Goad.

Celtic Advent is celebrated on this threshold between autumn and winter - a time to pause, watch and wait. The gift of two extra weeks for Advent is welcome:  Our ‘ordinary’ Advent beginning in December so easily gets swallowed up in the busyness of the Christmas season. The extra fortnight gives us time to wait and watch in the increasing darkness of the season and also to be open to what may be hidden to us in our inward beings. We are often amazed at how we venture out in the pitch black on our night walks at Blackruthven and as our eyes get accustomed to the dark, we see forms change into recognizable shapes and we can soon find our way without artificial light. We are invited to venture out and take time to feel at home in the darkness to get orientated. Likewise, we are invited to take time aside to seek quiet and stillness and go deeper inwardly. This may be through prayer, meditation or just sitting for 10 minutes with a hot drink. We may be surprised by what is revealed. Darkness is the absence of light, and the gift of potential, of gestation and new life. Time to slow down and let go - seasons changing, us changing, noticing all that is falling as in Rilke’s poem. The thick and generous layer of leaves in the woods around Blackruthven tell this story - the barren trees, the empty fields, the muddy paths too. It is as if the land is holding its breath. It is a special time between what has been and what is yet to come. It is a time of not knowing but of potential exploration.

The lectionary gospel readings at this time of year are full of strife and warnings of the end, mostly bleak and dark , but they also contain the assurance of the Kingdom of God and Christ with us - always. Whatever happens we are safe in God’s hands as the last stanza of Rilke’s poem indicates. We can face the darkness and engage with what may come up for us. We know for sure that when we reach winter solstice the natural light will start to come back and we will soon after celebrate the birth of the Christ light into this world. 

May we learn to welcome and live well with darkness - the waiting, changes, potential and uncertainty of this season - and move towards the returning light with trust and patience.

Advent Blessings.

Photo by Karen McClain Kiefer

Marianne