The Necessity of Darkness

snow-dawn-sunset-winter-large

I popped out of bed this morning and thought to myself, boy, it’s really dark outside. Usually I pull the curtains back and there’s at least a tiny bit of light. I’m an early riser, and naturally wake up around 6AM, give or take when I get to sleep.

This morning at 5:56AM, it was so dark that nothing changed when I opened the curtains.

Are you sure we have to get up now?

Why the days feel darker than last month.

If you think it’s still getting darker and darker every day, and you’re an early riser like me, you’re partially right. The sunrise is still getting later and later, even though we’ve passed the winter solstice.

My Grandpa, a weatherman, taught me something cool about this. He always talks about rainfall and cold fronts and ice storms and seems to know what’s happening all across the country—notably because he’s got his television on the weather channel all day long.

He talked about the solstice for a bit, that darkest day of the year, it falls on around December 21st.

“Here’s a little trivia you might not know,” he said. “Do you know when the latest sunrise and the latest sunrise is?”

Do you? I thought they were on the same day: the solstice.

The solstice is the short day — the shortest period of daylight between a sunrise and a sunset.

It turns out the the earliest sunset, time-wise, is the period between December 1 and December 15 for 2015. The sunset occurred these days at 4:29PM (for New York City). Then it begins creeping back outwards: 4:30 for a few days, 4:31, 4:32pm.

The latest sunrise (and likely the hardest time to get out of bed, not counting daylight savings), occurs a few weeks later, between December 30 and January 10, at 7:20AM (also for New York City).

The shortest day happens as these two occurrences shift among each other, with the shortest length of day on December 21st. (If you’re as confused as I was, it’s because the earth is tilted on an axis and it’s “eccentric” according to the charts.) The sun rises later and later as the set gets longer… like a bit of a tango between the start and the end. It’s not perfect.

Why don’t the latest sunrise and earliest sunset happen on the same day?

It turns out that the concept of solar noon is important. This is the time midway between sunrise and sunset, when the sun is at the highest point in the day. The clock we use (24 hours) is not actually perfect with the period of the day (which is sometimes a minute longer than 24 hours), so the time when the sun is highest in the sky changes.

So, two weeks before the solstice, there are earlier sunsets. And two weeks after the solstice, there are later sunrises.

And now, in January, right as we all head back to work, thick off the heaviness of holiday food, tired from sleeping in for a few days — we’re right in the middle of the darkest mornings.

The sun will begin its tilt back up the clock on January 11th, and the sunrises will be back before 7am by February 8th (6:59AM to be precise).

In the western hemisphere, we’re right in the middle of the darkest time, the latest sunrises, the earliest sunsets. Winter is here, the days are getting colder, and we’re about to get colder before we emerge for Spring.

Why we need the darker days:

For me, I find this time a great time to slow down, dwell, think, and re-boot. I love the contemplation, reflection, and introspection that comes from this time of the year. I also know that I have to take better care of myself: it’s harder to exercise when it’s this cold and dark, but if I don’t do it, I’ll feel worse. In the summer it’s easy to want to play. In the winter, I work a bit harder just to show up to my yoga class or go for a walk. I do less, I think more, and I listen.

As Clark Strand writes in Bring On The Dark, the darkness is an opportunity:

“In centuries past, the hours of darkness were a time when no productive work could be done. Which is to say, at night the human impulse to remake the world in our own image — so that it served us, so that we could almost believe the world and its resources existed for us alone — was suspended. The night was the natural corrective to that most persistent of all illusions: that human progress is the reason for the world.”

What are you feeling like this winter? How’s the dance of darkness and depth of winter treating you?

The Bali journey: in photographs.

IMG_1715

I’m a little bit at a loss for words.

I’m back from Bali, landing back in the USA after a flight pulled me 13 hours backwards in time, depositing me into the winter hemisphere. While I was gone, our city decorated the streets of Brooklyn with holiday lights, and folks have pulled out their hats and gloves to stay warm.

And my mind is still on Bali time…

I’m back, but slowly–back onto the internet, back after nearly three weeks of detoxification; back having had time to rest, back after a long, winding, deep period of inner emotional and spiritual work. For ten days I left the world of coffee, wine, alcohol, sugar, meat, dairy, cooked food, work, the internet, and technology (exceptions: phone as camera and kindle book, and of course the things that are technology from other generations). Before I left, I had started building a course called “Gratitude and Grace,” a two week micro-workshop that begins December 1st. It’s clear now more than ever that this is an important and beautiful project, and I’m excited to be putting the details on it this coming week (as well as writing more, much more, about Bali). There will be many stories, and many adventures to follow. There will be an invitation to join me on the Gratitude and Grace journey.

In the winter I wake up, early to rise, early to greet the sun. Hello, world. 

And today, as I ease back into writing, to talking, and to the working world, I’ll start with photographs of the Bali journey. The photographs make it glossy, shiny, sweet and surreal, but they capture a glimpse. The real trip was raw, messy, emotional, deep, dark, and light. I’ll go inside of it in good time, and the reverberations are already present within every moment, every cell, every day.

I’ll carry this inside, outside, through the heightened awareness of how interconnected we all are. You and me, we’ve got the strum beat of the universe inside of us; we’re connected by the threaded pulses of our heartbeats. Everything I do touches you, and you me. The ocean breathes and sighs, swallows and crashes; it too, dances to the vibrations. Here we go…

With gratitude and thankfulness swelled up in my heart,

sarah signature

 

 

Arrival into Ubud:

IMG_1677

The skinny streets:

IMG_1676

My shared home for the retreat:

IMG_1739

Running through rice fields in the morning:

IMG_1567

Rice paddies:

IMG_1552

Another stunning morning sunrise with volcanoes in the distance:

IMG_1663

Every day, the rice fields changed–some cut down, some flooded, some grew–it was the same, but new:

IMG_1706

The infamous Bali dogs:

IMG_1665

Traveling up to Gunung Kawi temple, viewing the rice paddies:

IMG_1629

The jungle abounds:

IMG_1671

Gunung Kawi Temple:

IMG_1523

Water purification, bliss in the heat (and soul):

IMG_1545 purification

Several of the lovely people who joined in this journey:

IMG_1532

Yoga, every day, often in the rice fields:

IMG_1702

More yoga, balanced between two (wet!) rice fields.

IMG_1384

The North coast (Tejakula)–the last two days there I spent quietly by the sea:

IMG_1591

Let yourself dance, let your voice speak. Sing, from the soul. Start with a whisper. Feel the sound of your breath and the touch of your body. You’re here, you’re supposed to be here. 

The trip was incredible. I’m so thankful. More soon.