the longest night of the year
Most people I know in the Pacific Northwest aren’t fans of long winter nights. As the Winter Solstice rolls around, I’m more likely to overhear cascading complaints about how early it gets dark, how depressing and wet everything is, and how much people hate Portland in winter.
I’m not one of those people.
Granted, it took me a bit by surprise when it seemed to get dark around 4 p.m. during my first December in Oregon. I’d lived my entire life at significantly lower latitudes and suddenly felt as though I’d relocated to practically the Arctic Circle. But I got used to it and even learned to enjoy the darkness of winter, because for some reason this is usually the time of year when I feel the most focused and the most energized.
I know. I’m a freak.
Some people hibernate in winter, but I’ve found that I tend toward the opposite: I produce in the winter and estivate in the summer. I’ve even toyed with the idea of leaving Oregon for the months of July and August to deliberately seek out winter below the equator, in a place where the weather is cooler and the nights are longer. I just get along better in the dark.
This year, though, I’ve felt a little frustration with the prolonged night—not much, mind you, but some. I’ve not been feeling particularly good (it’s been more than thirteen months of daily headaches, for instance), and I’ve felt some productivity pressure from the shorter days. Plus, since I’ve been taken off of mono vision after my last optometry appointment and am reconciling with the reality that I need reading glasses (in addition to contacts) and more light in my environment, I’m feeling the long nights of winter a bit more keenly.
But this day, Winter Solstice, still feels like a sacred day to me. It’s the fulfillment of the promise that the pendulum always swings back the other way, that there is cool and quiet and rest on the other side of the bright, hot, flurry of summer that always exhausts me whether I’m an active participant or not. It’s also marks my last quarterly planning meeting of the year, where I sit down and map out my goals and deadlines for the next three months. It’s a time of reassurance and hope, and just a little bit of wistfulness for the present calm that all too soon will be lost to the buzz of lengthening days and warmer weather.
So if you’re more of a summer person, this is your day to rejoice: the hours of sunlight will lengthen from here. But if you’re someone who craves the quiet like I do, be sure to carve out a few moments for private reflection on this short day and long night. I for one will use the time for reflective gratitude, for turning my gaze to what comes next, and for relishing this longest night and the only slightly shorter ones to follow.
Creative Commons photo: winter solstice, by Caroline.
I like both the winter chill and the summer heat.
BTW, I had to get my computer to calculate the “robot answer.”