I’m reading Luther Allen’s book of poems, The View from Lummi Island, a poem a day from the San Juan Islands. As fall begins, he says,
the days shorten
but the nights lengthen
to sleep and dream
to restore the fatigue of enlightenment
in the fecund nether-womb of endarkenment
I often feel this way about summer— “the fatigue of enlightenment.” In the Pacific Northwest, there’s a lot of pressure to have fun, to make the most of the sun, to pack it in. Then, right about now, my therapist friends tell me their clients come in and start to dread winter. Start to dread the gray, the wet, the “Dark Four” of November, December, January, and February.
And it’s true—we are headed into the dark. We are in, as Allen says, the “last prayer of summer.” Is it possible for us to surrender to it? Can we be with these longer nights, seeing them as a break from the pressure of summer? Can we enter the womb of endarkenment, trusting there are gifts for us there? Trusting that we are actually designed to be in rhythm with the earth and her seasons?
As the days get shorter, the light becomes more precious. Our task becomes to notice it, to expose ourselves to it, to accept its fleeting nature. Put on your good raincoat, step outside even when you’re not motivated to. Let’s get off our screens and out into the world. Look up and notice as the trees start to put on their yearly show of resignation, their “rash consent to change,” as the poet Richard Wilbur says.
The poet Jane Kenyon, long a voice of inspiration for me, says,
“Be a good steward of your gifts. Protect your time. Feed your inner life. Avoid too much noise. Read good books, have good sentences in your ears. Be by yourself as often as you can. Walk. Take the phone off the hook. Work regular hours.”
I love this quaint, “Take the phone off the hook.” She died young of cancer in 1995 and didn’t live to see how many more things would begin vying for our attention, how distressingly easy it would become for us to lose touch with our inner lives. The fading light sets the table for us, invites us to protect our time, find the wildness within. May it be so with you and with me.
P.S. You can read here about how to set up a solo retreat for yourself if you want to take a deep dive!