In these dark days I find myself going to dark places inside. Brought on by physical pain and lack of sleep, grief and hopelessness slip in. I teeter on the edge of climate despair. Concrete, cars, and violence seem to define the world we live in. Even as I work to create a better world, I am complicit in this system.

This dark place is not unfamiliar to me. I used to spend a lot of time here. It used to be different, though. Back then, when I was in the darkness, it felt like it had always been that way and always would be that way—like I would never know light and happiness again. After many years of self-work, I know that this too shall pass. Emotions are motion, as a dear friend says—they are meant to move through us.

I took the morning off yesterday to tend my body and simply BE with my emotions and pain. Being does not come naturally to me, particularly when I’m struggling. I’m much better at Doing, much more comfortable in action. But even action can be a form of avoiding.

So I cleared my schedule. I mediated. And wrote. And cried.

I went for a long, slow walk and found myself singing Let Us See the Beauty by Laurence Cole. I found myself living into this line “I want to know if you can see the beauty, even when it’s not pretty every day. I want to know if you can see the beauty, and source your life from its presence”. Walking in nature while singing this song created an opening, a lifting. It smoothed some of the jagged edges inside of me, replacing them with curiosity.

I remembered the song was inspired by the poem, The Invitation, by Oriah Mountain Dreamer. I love that poem. How does it go again? I paused where I was to look up the poem. I read it again and again, silently, and out loud, feeling the deep resonance of these words in my soul.

Knowing I am not alone in my pain, that pain is universal, that this dark time of year can be hard for so many, I shared my heavy heart and this poem with a few close friends, friends who are my first level of support in this world, friends I go deep with, who hold me up as I hold them up.

Little by little, like the lengthening of days in the spring, my heart became lighter, the sharp edges smoother, I moved back from the edge of despair, simply by following my curiosity. Curiosity is a superpower. With just a spark, and following it to the next action, everything changed.

We, in the northern latitudes, are in the season of darkness—dark when we awaken in the morning, dark by late afternoon. This is not my first winter. I know—I Trust—that the light will return.

As the seasons change from this, the darkest night of the year, I make the choice to Trust that my inner light too will return. I choose to believe that we can have a different world—a world where we prioritize connection, love, each other, the planet, over profit.

I humble myself with the knowing that I don’t know what is possible for our future. I choose to believe that the future could be more amazing than anything I have the capacity to imagine. In this I find solace, comfort. In this I sink deeply and simply Be.

Many years ago, I read my horoscope in a newspaper. It was something I did for fun, but this time, the words struck a chord. It said, “If you had any idea how much you are loved, you would never cry again”. I clipped that horoscope out of the paper and pinned it up on my studio wall. It lived there for a long time until it was lost in a move. Today, it still lives in my heart.

When I cut out that horoscope, one short sentence that felt so huge, I couldn’t believe I was loved like that. But I wanted to believe. I wanted to believe with all my heart. The magic is that in the past 10 years I have come to believe—to Know—that I am loved that much. This Knowing may be the most amazing gift I’ve ever received. I still cry sometimes—there are a lot of hard realities in this world and tears have healing power. But I don’t doubt that I am loved, or that I am worthy of love.

If you are struggling today, know that you are not alone. Know that you are loved. Seen. Supported. That there is help if you need it. Know that as the seasons change from this darkest of nights, the light will return.

My Solstice gift to you is The Invitation, by Oriah Mountain Dreamer, and these words, that were pinned to my studio wall so long ago: “If you had any idea how much you are loved, you would never cry again”.

Happy Winter Solstice.

Thank you, Oriah, for living the wisdom in your words and for sharing The Invitation with us.

The Invitation by Oriah
It doesn’t interest me
what you do for a living.
I want to know
what you ache for
and if you dare to dream
of meeting your heart’s longing.

It doesn’t interest me
how old you are.
I want to know
if you will risk
looking like a fool
for love
for your dream
for the adventure of being alive.

It doesn’t interest me
what planets are
squaring your moon...
I want to know
if you have touched
the centre of your own sorrow
if you have been opened
by life’s betrayals
or have become shrivelled and closed
from fear of further pain.

I want to know
if you can sit with pain
mine or your own
without moving to hide it
or fade it
or fix it.

I want to know
if you can be with joy
mine or your own
if you can dance with wildness
and let the ecstasy fill you
to the tips of your fingers and toes
without cautioning us
to be careful
to be realistic
to remember the limitations
of being human.

It doesn’t interest me
if the story you are telling me
is true.
I want to know if you can
disappoint another
to be true to yourself.
If you can bear
the accusation of betrayal
and not betray your own soul.
If you can be faithless
and therefore trustworthy.

I want to know if you can see Beauty
even when it is not pretty
every day.
And if you can source your own life
from its presence.

I want to know
if you can live with failure
yours and mine
and still stand at the edge of the lake
and shout to the silver of the full moon,
“Yes.”

It doesn’t interest me
to know where you live
or how much money you have.
I want to know if you can get up
after the night of grief and despair
weary and bruised to the bone
and do what needs to be done
to feed the children.

It doesn’t interest me
who you know
or how you came to be here.
I want to know if you will stand
in the centre of the fire
with me
and not shrink back.

It doesn’t interest me
where or what or with whom
you have studied.
I want to know
what sustains you
from the inside
when all else falls away.

I want to know
if you can be alone
with yourself
and if you truly like
the company you keep
in the empty moments.

By Oriah © Mountain Dreaming,

Learn more about Oriah and read her words at, OriahMountainDreamer.com