I Give You Permission

Updated: Jan 15, 2020




21st of December, 2019


Tonight will be the longest night of the year. In the Northern Hemisphere, we have sunk to the bottom of the deepest darkness. On this Winter Solstice, how are you embracing that darkness?


There is no light without dark, there is no life without death, there is no ecstacy without grief. No sound without silence, no energy without rest. At this darkest time of the year, let yourself rest.


Our culture tells us to slink away from those shadows. We’re encouraged to strive always for the light. We post pictures of smiling babies and fun vacations, never the mountain of dishes that piled up while we binged Netflix in our pajamas.


We wrap our self-worth up in energy and productivity. Capitalism teaches us that our value is based on what we produce and what we consume. We must go go go and do do do , we equate the need for rest with weakness.


Our ancestors in the northern temperate climates knew wintertime as a quieter time. The food for the most part had been harvested and stored. The flood of activity dwindled to a trickle. Stories were told around a crackling fire, listening hands engaged in the making of artful, useful things. The long dark hours whispered dreams into our sleeping heads.


Solstice Blessings

In direct opposition to this natural turning inward, this season is now one of the most manic times of the year. As we celebrate our relatively new holidays, so much will be asked of you. Family, travel, consumerism, excess, etc. The only way to fuel it all will be to nourish your reserves.


On this Winter Solstice, I’m here as an Ambassador of The Dark, to give you official permission to rest. It’s what the Earth (in the northern temperate climates) is encouraging you to do.


Nap in the middle of the day. Practice good sleep hygiene. Turn off the internet. Delete the apps. If you're overwhelmed with people and party, hide in the bathroom, or the pantry if you have to. There are so many ways to give the quiet and the stillness a little more space in your life.


I’ll take a dose of my own medicine by keeping this short. I’m going to go lie down.


Rest Now,


Kate

Ambassador of Darkness



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Kate Husted

P.O. Box 1222

Bayfield, CO 81122

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303-917-3882

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© 2021 by Kate Husted. Above butterfly and Poppy artwork by Nikki D. May