Who I am.

I write about the landscape of grief, nature, and the wisdom of fools. The author of four books, my essays, poems, and reviews have been published in over 50 journals, including in the Huffington Post and Colorado Review. I’ve won the River Teeth Nonfiction Book Award, the Chautauqua and Literal Latte’s essay prizes, and my work has been nominated for three Pushcart Prizes and named a notable by Best American Essays. My account of hiking in Yosemite to deal with my wife’s death, Mountains of Light, was published by the University of Nebraska Press. http://www.markliebenow.com.

Thursday, December 25, 2014

Winter's Light

When the year’s shadows are heaviest, when nights become long and cold, when feelings of self-doubt, despair, and death draw near, we light candles to push away the darkness that surrounds us.

The light of stars and the flames of candles remind us of people we love, dreams we’ve followed, and the guidance of wise teachers. They call us to reclaim what stirs our passions, what brings us energy and meaning. They challenge us to care for those among us for whom the light has grown dim.

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  1. Ahhhh... I love Nature's song of joy. I returned home from a road trip to visit family last night. Built a fire in the woodstove and watched the crescent moon. This morning, I filled the bird feeder while the chickadees scolded and walked through fields where the snow melted while I was gone. On twitter, a Jungian therapist shared pithy quotes from Vic's first book on synchronicity, so I followed my heart and read the acknowledgements of that book. I read the paragraph about me many times and wept for those sweet days. Sometimes we have to make a little space around the crack to let the new light in. Thanks for bringing it all together with your reflection on Solstice, light, and joy.

    1. We have to make space to let the new light in. -- exactly, Elaine! Thank you for your insights.