You do not need to know who you are

In these final days before the Solstice, I notice how I am untangling the last strands of my old self. I become painfully aware of everything that does not feel exactly right, for I know this is the time I can see most clearly.

Winter is a transparent time. It is beautiful in its own right, but the season can be confronting. There is no more hiding from myself in the undergrowth, as everything non-essential has already died. What remains is the naked structure of my life as it is now, in its raw, unapologetic state.

As we approach the darkest night of the year, I invite you to come to terms with what is dead inside of you. Often shunned and rejected, facing death is just as important as facing life. If we do not respect and consciously depart from what is dead within us, there is no space for new seeds to take root within us. And there is no space for our muses to visit us in the period of dreaming we are about to enter.

Coming to terms with death is difficult, for we cannot see what lies beyond. What we are up to now is what we know, and it can feel safe to hold on, even if something in us knows it is time to let go. In letting go of what we know, we take a blind leap of faith. When we consciously depart from what we were—without knowing where we will end up—we take a chance and step into the unknown. Our new selves are still shrouded in mystery, and there are no guarantees that things will turn out how we hope they will.

Faith asks more of us than trust. We tend to trust in something, and death asks us to trust in nothing. In other words, having faith compels us to trust in things as they are instead of how we want them to be.

We best meet death within us, trusting that everything is as it needs to be, and we surrender our desire to know what comes next. In other words, we are strong in our surrender when we follow what we know to be right instead of what is comfortable or safe. For now, I wish you a beautiful transition into the light.