Warmth & Light on the Shortest Day
I’ve finally done it. Picked up my pen, after taking the five or six steps out of bed, across the cold hardwood floor, and over to the new seat I now occupy the most - a hand-hewn step stool in front of the wood stove. Each morning I recall how Angus demonstrated his technique for properly setting a fire in this wood stove, which burns hottest to the left and front. I’ve been to a few different homes now and seen just how particular each wood stove is, how each habitant coaxes flame out of coal and dried timber in their own particular way.
My way never fails to leave a charcoal mark just above my right wrist where it brushes against the top lip of the wood stove’s mouth. First, I pool the leftovers from yesterday’s fire into the middle so that two troughs run alongside a swell of mottled ash and carbon. Then, I smooth a space at the very front and slightly to the left to place a ball of newspaper beneath a pile of dried forest litter, a mix of conifer needles, moss, lichen, and hardwood barks draped in desiccated usnea and alektoria. After that, I snap larger twigs by bracing the dead branches against my knee and pulling on each end with both hands. Sometimes a piece will splinter off into the air with a “pop!” and I’ll find it later snagged in the fibers on the sole of my wool sock.
The “pop” sound excites me and I imagine the bright hot heat of today’s yet-to-be-born fire sending radiant warmth out in all directions. I think one day soon I’ll get a cat or dog to keep me company and alert me to unseen eyes out beyond where the porch light touches the dark. A woman such as I, Black and alone and in the northern Idaho foothills, ought to have a companion of some kind, don’t you think? A familiar, a second pair of eyes, a reason to get the fire going an hour earlier while the dark is still profound and wanting.
For now, it’s just me and the fire, hissing and popping, sending cyclones of hot breath up the chimney. By the time the first piece of solid wood is lit, the water is boiling and I pour a cup of tea - grated fresh ginger, the juice of half a lemon, raw honey, and a bold splash of cayenne powder.
This is heat and light on the shortest day of the year. This is how a relationship thrives in quiet isolation. Together we make this space into a hearth. I tend it with litter and logs throughout the day and it keeps me warm enough to kindle a spark of creativity, to leave the covers behind and write my winter’s first words.
How do you kindle your inner flame during the darkest time of the year? Here’s what lights my fire without fail.
Embrace the morning stillness.
While it’s still quiet, find a sacred seat, perhaps a hand-hewn stool by a wood stove. Let the chill in the air heighten your senses and rest in awareness of your surroundings. During this time I like to practice mindful breathing and set the tone for my daily intention.
Make your mark of intent.
Much like the charcoal mark above my wrist, let your day leave an indelible mark. If you have a spiritual practice praying, meditating, or connecting with the Ancestors is a great way to enliven the stillness around you with energy and intent and tune in to your inner transformative fire..
Connect with the rituals all around you.
When we’re all huddled inside against the cold, it’s easy to feel disconnected from the world around us. Knowing that my neighbors and friends were all rising in their chilly homes to get their wood stoves going at the same time reminds me of my connection to the larger web of life. We all have different ways that we like to observe this time of year, but we each can relate to the pull to go inward brought on by the shortening days and the need to find a source of inner light to guide us through.
Lean into the sun’s rays.
Fires are little balls of sun. Every candle and every ember. Fill your space with warm candlelight and let the rays dance on your skin. On a clear day go for a walk at dusk and catch the golden hour. Sometimes you have to seek out the sun to be sunkissed but it’s worth it, especially if you’re impacted by Seasonal Affective Disorder. Lean into the rays and the moving heat of a wood stove fire and be uplifted.
Don’t forget the tea.
My go-to tea to get the inner fires burning is a classic Hot Toddy. I add a brown liquor only when I feel a cold coming on. I prepare mine just as described above - a cup of hot water poured over the juice of half a lemon, a small finger of freshly grated ginger, 2 tsp to 1 tbsp raw honey (add bee pollen to prevent Spring allergies), and as much cayenne as I can handle.
What do you do to keep your inner flame alive during the introspective days of winter? I’d love to know about your favorite practices and the tea that keeps the darkness at bay.
After many days of solitude, I’m looking forward to seeing a stretch of the Columbia River I’ve never seen before on my way to visit loved ones during the holidays. When I get back keep your eye out for details on how to join my first Fireside Chat on January 2nd in the New Year!
Until then, I hope the start of Winter fills you with hope and inspires many dreams to come.