(From a Sunday service I led for the Sugarloaf Unitarian Universalist Congregation in Germantown, Maryland on November 26, 2017)
I never used to like this time of year very much. The days are short, and sunset comes too soon. My eyes crave light. I have seasonal depression, which makes the lack of daylight difficult.
But this year, I decided that instead of fighting the darkness, I’ll try to welcome it. So I remind myself to enjoy the last lingering leaves on some trees, the greenness of the lawns, the sunsets. When my dog and I walk outside before dawn, I focus on the beauty of the stars, the first glimmers of light in the eastern sky. On cloudy days I picture the world wrapped in warm fluffy gray blankets.
In agricultural communities, this is the time of year when outdoor work slows down. The harvests are over. Animals are led back from distant pastures to spend the winter in barns and stables. People retreat indoors to mend tools, repair garments, and rest a little from their labors.
This is the time to gather around a roaring fire and listen to stories. This is the time to dream. This is the time to envision a better future for ourselves and those who come after us.
Yule, the Winter Solstice, is still a few weeks away. Solstice means the sun’s stillness, and in some folk myths this is thought to be a time when the sun stops moving. Yule is the pause between one life and another, a time to consider the choices lying before us. Yule is when the light stops growing less, and begins to increase. Light is reborn from the womb of darkness.
In many myths, light represents good, and dark is something to fear. But darkness is not inherently evil. The dark becomes frightening only when we deny and reject it. We need to go into our darkness and make peace with it in order to find healing and renewal.
When we embrace the dark, and let ourselves enter the unknown places in our minds, we can be led toward healing, transformation and renewal. It is only in the dark of night that we see the stars of the cosmos. And we can emerge back into the light of day with new insights.
Today, we will journey with our minds into the darkness of a sacred cave, hoping to meet spirit animals and see visions. What else might we encounter in the cave? Are there crystals, stalactites, stalagmites? Are there ancient paintings of humans and animals on the walls? Is there a light in the darkness?
In ancient shamanic traditions, animals appeared in dreams as powerful allies. Deer, eagles, crows, wolves, foxes, dogs, bobcats, turtles and horses are among the creatures that can become protective guardians in our visions.
Bears in particular are spiritually important to many peoples. They are sacred to many Native American tribes, to the Scandinavians of pre-Christian Europe and the Ainu people of Japan. Today, our guide into the cave will be a mother bear, bearing a cub in her womb. She is a safe companion for us and will protect us.
You may encounter another animal along the way. You can ask it if it is your spirit animal. If it is, try to stay with the animal until you hear the drum calling you back. If it is not, keep going. You might meet another animal, or find a teacher. Ask questions.
I will play a recording of shamanic drumming. When it is time to come back from this meditation, you will hear a set of drumbeats to call you back to this space we share. Here’s how it sounds:
BEAT DRUM.
Please make yourselves comfortable in your seats, feet on the floor, your hands relaxed, your eyes closed. Now let’s take several slow deep breaths, letting the air out slowly. Feel yourself relaxing.
It is late autumn on a misty afternoon. You are walking on a path deep in the woods. As you walk, you can hear the drip of moisture from the trees and bushes. You smell fallen leaves on the damp ground. The path is leading you to higher ground, climbing up the side of a hill. You hear a lone crow call.
As you walk, you begin to notice a living presence in front of you. When you follow it along the rising path, the mist parts a little. You see that it is a bear, a mother bear pregnant with cubs. You are not afraid, because you can sense great love and peace coming from her. She is making her way up the hill, through the dripping trees, around mossy boulders and past fallen logs. Her paws make soft sounds on the wet leaves that cover the path. Mama Bear climbs further into the rocky parts of the hill, sniffing the ground, searching. She comes to a halt. There is something dark amid the tumbled rocks and leafless bushes, It is the entrance to a cave.
She enters the cave and you go in behind her. It is dark, but you can hear her as she leads you further down into the cool recesses. Finally she stops, circles a few times, and settles down comfortably, with a soft sigh. It is her winter hibernation time. Somehow you hear her voice in your mind, inviting you to curl up beside her.
You sit down next to her and lean against her coarse, thick fur. Her breathing slows. You feel sleepy, and you feel that the darkness may be full of wonderful mysteries. Feeling the warmth of Mama Bear’s body next to you, you begin to dream.
In your dream, some kind of animal appears. You know that this is your protector animal, and you know that whatever follows, you will be kept safe.
Play drumming CD to end
Welcome back to the daylight world, to the members of the Sugarloaf Congregation around you. Take a couple of minutes to stretch if you like. If any of you would like to stay in the yurt afterward and share your experience, I will be here.
Now please rise if you are able and join in singing Hymn number 55, Dark of Winter.
offeringstone 