Create Meaning - On Your Terms - This Season

Across cultures and centuries, humans have marked the darkness of winter with rituals centered on light. As Rev. Liz Morante described on Sunday, light meant life. It meant safety and warmth. In a world before electricity, natural sources of light were essential.

Rev. Liz reminded us that celebrations focused on light — from the Hindu Diwali in autumn, Buddha’s birthday and the idea of enlightenment, Scandinavia’s Santa Lucia, the ancient Solstice, Christmas, and Hanukkah — didn’t emerge in isolation. They arose from the shared human experience of living through darkness and trusting that the light would return.

Each of these traditions, in its own way, invites us to do the same thing:

Stop.

Notice.

Go within.

Trust that the light will return. Whether IRL or metaphorically.

At its root, Solstice means that the sun pauses.

With that pause, we’re invited into stillness — and maybe, just for a moment, to let go of the busyness of our lives. It can feel as though nothing is changing. But something is. Something is shifting. Just because we can’t see it doesn’t mean it isn’t happening.

That idea feels especially relevant right now.

Winter asks us to slow down, whether we want to or not. Our North American culture rarely does, but the natural world certainly does.

And in that stillness, growth happens. Seeds germinate. Trees, soil, and systems we can’t see prepare for what comes next. When we’re willing to embrace darkness as part of the process, we give ourselves space to grow, too.

This is where the Christmas story — and so many ancient stories — become clearer. While some would argue they were never meant to be literal history, Rev. Liz described the Nativity as teaching something radical for its time: it took the divine from something “out there” and brought it “in here.” A new consciousness was being born.

Transformation doesn’t happen outside of us; it emerges from within us. That's what they were teaching. That's what we teach.

Rev. Pam spoke to this as well when lighting the oneness candle. I invite you to visit YouTube and listen — or relisten. Everything about Sunday felt intentional, meaningful, and a little bit magical.

Many Paths, One Truth

Buddhism speaks of enlightenment — awakening to wisdom, insight, and compassion. (Buddha’s birthday is celebrated Dec. 8.) Hanukkah, the festival of dedication, reminds us that renewal is possible even when circumstances feel overwhelming. Different traditions. Different language. The same truth (and what we mean when we say, "many paths, one truth"). Light isn't something we passively wait for. It’s something we live into.

The Promise of Longing and Hope

It’s not uncommon for many of us to feel longing and hope this time of year. Longing for the light. Hope that it returns.

Longing is the honest awareness that something is missing, whether it’s someone, or something — peace, steadiness, reassurance, meaning. Hope is the sense that what we long for might still be possible. Not promised, nor immediate. But possible.

Given the state of the world, and in some cases, our own lives, feeling hopeful may feel tender right now. And that's where the stillness, the silence of going within can help, where things unseen begin to germinate.

The invitation of this season isn’t to manufacture optimism or rush toward answers. It’s to pause. To trust that something is forming beneath the surface, even if we can’t yet see it. To allow renewal to begin quietly, the way it always does.

Not all at once, and not always in the ways we expect, light returns.

With love, gratitude, and Merry Christmas, Happy Yule, and good tidings to all,

Laura