Winter Solstice

Tomorrow is Westacre Day. I've been counting down the days, with increasing seriousness, for the last year. Westacre Day is the day I get into the car with my husband and some of my most treasured possessions, and drive to our new home to take up residence.

I first chose this date for its symbolic significance, and because it was so late in the year that we were certain Roger would have moved to the bungalow and we would have the Westacre to ourselves.

That hasn't happened. I'll be moving in with my father-in-law for a while. But the symbolism of the date is strong enough for me to hold on to and to honour. Tomorrow, will spiritually move from my old home to the new, and I will celebrate the change with a ritual.

The Winter Solstice is the New Year to me. In the longest night, in the deep darkness, something new is born. All the potential of the year ahead is present in that long night. From then, our Northern hemisphere will begin to tilt towards the Sun again, and its strengthening light will start a new growing cycle.

This year, I feel pregnant with that potential. This is not just the beginning of a new yearly cycle. This is the symbolic starting point of a new life. After tomorrow, nothing will be the same. It's like moving into a new identity. Like I have to be reborn myself in order to be able to take on this challenge and bring it to a successful end.

Of course, it's not just our Westacre project. People have been talking about 21 December 2012 for years now. This Mayan calendar thing has taken on a life of its own. Given the plans we have, it should be obvious that I don't expect anything particularly dramatic to happen tomorrow.

Still, the potential for a new future that is with me so strongly this year, is connected to everybody else's. I know of many people around the world who will be meditating at the time of the Solstice and dreaming a new future for all of us. They will be praying for humans to find new ways of living as partners with Nature.

It is my hope that our move to Westacre will be a small part of that new future. I hope that our endeavours will inspire other people to learn from what we're doing and have a go, however modest, themselves. It is my prayer that the potential I feel for this coming cycle will strengthen and blossom with the growing light.

May my and your Winter Solstice be a small step in the birth of a new era. May the growing light bless us all, and the potential for beauty we each carry.

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Please tell your friends about the Westacre Project. We would like as many people as possible to hear about it and discover new ways of living along with us. We'd like this seed of potential to grow into something strong and widely connected.