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 four 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 30, 2021

Winter's Light


 (We are currently in the middle of Christmastide, the liturgical season that runs from Christmas Eve to Epiphany Eve on January 5th.)

 

            When the year’s shadows are heaviest, when nights become long and cold, and feelings of self-doubt, despair, and death draw close, we light candles to push back the darkness that surrounds us. The flickering flames invite us to slow our busyness, set aside our fears, and open to everything that exists in this moment. 

 

            The twinkling of the stars, the bonfires in the backyard, and the strands of holiday lights on houses in our neighborhood remind us of people we loved who’ve died, dreams we tenaciously hang on to, and mentors whose wise guidance continues to help us find our way through life. The lights call us to reclaim the passions that stir our hearts with visions and imbue our lives with hope. 

 

            Lights challenge us to remember and care for those among us for whom the light has grown dim, for the light, when it comes, comes for all. 

 

            During the holidays, people seek to renew their faith. Lights hold a prominent place in worship services and rituals of remembrance and rededication in many religions, like the Christian candlelight service, the Jewish Hanukkah, the Hindu Diwali, and the African American celebration of Kwanzaa.

 

            As holiday decorations line our city streets, and as we put lights in our windows and on trees, we celebrate the message that despite the trauma of the last year—bad jobs, no jobs, lost homes, struggles with health, the death of loved ones, the unrest in society—hope has not been extinguished. Despite all the evidence to the contrary, glad news will come that we do not expect, and in ways that we do not know about. 

 

Do not give in to despair. Put kindling on the glowing coals burning in your heart.

 

            We return to the ancient traditions that remind us that our search is a common one. Many of us find reassurance in our annual gatherings of family and friends. Some find renewal outdoors, walking in the mountains, along the ocean, or in the woods and renew our connection with the spirit of Creation. And when we look up into the night sky and see its chorus of stars, we are humbled to think that we are part of this natural wonder. 

 

The darkness of night does not do away with the light, but completes it, just as grief completes our understanding of the depths of love.

 

            May you find a place in the new year where the sacred fire in your heart still burns.

 

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Although many of us do most of our holiday celebrating during Advent, Christmastide has historically been the time of celebration and commemoration that is observed with lights, carol singing, gift giving, and church services. This season runs from Christmas Eve to Epiphany Eve (the Twelfth Night), after which the lights are taken down. The observances include Christmas Day on the 25th, St. Stephen’s Day, the first martyr, on the 26th, the Massacre of the Children on the 28th, New Year’s Eve on the 31st, and the circumcision of Jesus on the 1st. The arrival of the Magi on January 5th revealed the extent of Mary’s future sorrow. On January 6th, the season of Epiphany begins. 

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