In-Between Light and Dark

St Augustine photo by Charlene

Something happens

We pause.

For the next three weeks, approaching the winter solstice, the in-between will be elongated as days grow darker, earlier and earlier. We may grumble and bemoan darkness descending while turning on lights around the house by 4 or 5 pm. Or, we may relish the chance to draw the blinds against the world. Twenty days and nights can feel long while waiting for the shortest day to come, or as some prefer, the longest night. I love the winter solstice because it forces everything into an in-between world that often goes unnoticed.

Last evening, I strolled as the sun was setting and the half moon was rising. The hues, subtle at first, became radiant shades of red-orange against a purple backdrop of a not-quite-night sky. The world was perfectly still, as if coaxing the weariest among us to stop. A few neighbors were out and about, each one commenting, "What a beautiful evening"!

I returned home to a darkened house, crossing the threshold between two worlds of light and dark. It wasn't but a minute before I had to turn on a light, but that minute was held up by magic. Drawn to the window to witness the remains of the day, I sensed time itself suspended in-between the light and dark. In this liminal space, darkness is an invitation to light a candle of hope.