My husband and I are getting ready to celebrate another winter solstice together outdoors. We’ll celebrate on Friday instead of Saturday due to the predicted (unbearable!) wind chill. Even Friday will be a very cold one this year, but we can bear it. I am hoping for a little snow to set both the scene and make the mood more festive. I’ll bundle up and head out to greet my husband, who will have the fire roaring. This year our special warm drink, a solstice tradition, will be Kahlúa hot chocolate. We’ll settle into our camp chairs in front of the crackling fire, snack on some saffron buns my husband made for Saint Lucy’s Day, and enjoy the idea of the light returning as the fire and the Kahlúa warm us.

Last year I wrote about a solstice ritual. I carry slips of paper in my pocket, ready to toss into the fire. One side of the slip will say what I am happy to be leaving behind, and the other side will say what I am looking forward to bringing into my life. It feels particularly hard this year. Based on my last post and the constant cycle of disturbing news, you can probably imagine what will be written on the side of the ledger I’d like to leave behind — plenty of monsters in the dark. If only it were that simple to erase the darkness. So this year, I am putting extra thought into what I will bring into my life to illuminate the dark times for me, and maybe for others. What can I do to create light? To be a force of light?

In an article shared on LinkedIn by Chris Cook titled Shine Your Light. I’ll Shine Mine. Together We’ll See Our Way Through, licensed clinical social worker Allan Weisbard offers some ideas on how to be the light during dark times. Although the piece was written in response to COVID, several of his suggestions struck a chord with me in these trying times, too.

I know, for my own mental health, and to support others, I can’t carry a light that is constantly overshadowed by pessimism. Yet I cannot deny the reality of the state of things. The only optimism I can muster right now will have to be enough. According to Weisbard, it can be enough to say “we’ll get through this” as a sign of healthy optimism. I can do that. That will be the light side of my current dark mantra: “We’re doomed.” I’m ready to try that.

He suggests to “hold integrity to your boundaries.” That is so important to me. I can’t sit back if others are being hurt by political decisions. Being the light means being a bit of an activist at times. In my last post I indicated I’ve let some friendships go because I believe their decisions will hurt people I care about.

To strengthen and maintain your light force, he recommends you “curate exposure to the news and social media.” That’s important for me. I need to pause scrolling the doom reality feed and make time for the stories that reflect the goodness of humanity. Then I need to share that good news: “Hey did you see what this woman in such-in-such-ville is doing to support the homeless? Could we get that going here?” You get the idea.

Another of his suggestions is to “seek a sense of awe.” I love that. To focus on what is beautiful, especially in the natural world, is vital to letting bright light into the world. From winter birds at the feeder to the laughter of the neighbor’s small child playing outside to a few feet of fresh snow on a quiet, cozy “snow day” — there is so much that is wonder-filled, comforting, and inspiring. If that’s a focus, the light will get in.

A woman in our writing group talked about a retirement goal of working on being the best friend she could be to her friends. What a way to bring light to the lives of people you care about. Weisbard also suggests we remember the power of kindness to shine a light in the dark. He writes: “Think positive thoughts toward everyone you see and choose to be kind every day. See all the little things people do for you each day and thank them.”

One final suggestion he had that really resonates is to “imagine positive, joyful outcomes.” Oh that’s a tough one. I can’t pretend not to know what I know. But I can find joy in the small moments. I can find small things to look forward to with my husband and my dear friends, and truly enjoy them and show my gratitude for that joy.

In A Small World for an Unsolved Heart I wrote about what it meant to make my world smaller. I think these suggestions will help to bring light into this small world that can still feel quite dark. Another way I intend to fight the darkness in the new year is to not turn on the television on January 20, 2025. On that day I will be dedicating my time to service in my community in some capacity. My focus will be on the teachings of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. and showing my community some love and light. I look forward to making that plan. I have some ideas, but would welcome your suggestions in the Comments. My community has many needs.

The winter solstice inspires me and brings me hope. I cannot remember a time in my life when I have ever felt I needed that more. Magically, it’s by looking outward on a cold, dark December night that I can find light inside me …enough light to illuminate a way forward.