I hold the wisdom of winter
in my center,
the wisdom of darkness that says:
Forget everything you have seen,
however joyful and painful it was,
and trust in the unknown
that is hidden from your eyes.
Learn from the sleeping animal in the cave,
from the resting root
and the waiting seed,
learn from the slowness of the earth
under a wafer-thin blanket of snow.
Learn to breathe without haste,
to be present without purpose,
learn to trust in the justice of time,
which gives every creature days of light
and darkness,
times of gathering and losing,
of living and passing away.
Remember the darkness within you,
the wonders that it brings forth
after risk and pain:
a liberating word,
matured in prolonged silence,
the glow of a new idea
over the abyss of ignorance,
the fruit of gratitude
on the ground of waiting.
Remember the intimate touch
that owes itself to the gentleness of the night
and blind trust.
Befriend the darkness,
your faithful pioneer,
which calls you throughout your life over the longed-for
and feared thresholds
into the inexhaustibility of life.
From “In winter white silence: A companion through the dark season”