Coming out of the darkness

.... and reflecting on my word for 2026.

Oh! It’s so dark right now! The lights are on most of the time as the days get narrower and narrower and when there is cloud cover, it barely gets light at all. It’s hard in these times, not to feel the darkness right down to my existential roots. It’s dark out there. So dark.

And yet! I keep noticing flickers of light all the same. I don’t mean the kind of light that blinds us to reality, or insists on hope as moral obligation. Instead, I’m thinking of the light that pools from the desk lamp on a dimming day, the small glow that surrounds your hands as they are writing and making on the table – or the light from the window as we come home on a rainy afternoon and sail into the safe harbour of home.

This fall, some of those flickers came in the form of the Solidarity Socials we held on Gabriola Island. These were simple craft socials held once a month through the rainy season (we have more planned for 2026, as the rains will continue). At these gatherings, we invited the community in to make books, dye fabric with plants, print patches, and braid rope. There were snacks. There were demonstrations. There was a lot of sitting side by side, hands busy, conversations unfolding at their own pace. Nothing demanding like a workshop, and no money required to attend. Just people showing up to create a container in which to make things and make space for each other.

There were, of course, other bright moments in 2025 as well: parties, communal meals, field school meetings, open mics and other musical events. Each coming together feeling like defiance of the headlines. “Fuck you!” we said with our organizing, our laughter, our beautiful hands working steadfastly against the cloth to the sound of fiddle music.

While I don’t think joy cancels out grief or fear, I’m not sure how we survive if we don’t find ways for them to coexist, and to hold that space for each other when the darkness persists. Feed the world with light, as I like to say.

Every year I choose a word to guide me, and in 2025 it was the word COURAGE. I needed it, and I used it to show up in new ways for myself and my community. I will not enumerate how that manifested here except to say the Solidarity Socials were a part of that and I appreciate very much the people who worked with me to make them happen.

The word I’m carrying into 2026 is lucipetal—a word I first used in 2007 for a photography project, during a dark season in my life. Borrowed from the biological sciences, it names an organism that turns toward the light. A light-seeker. In its very shape, the word doesn’t reject darkness; it simply describes an orientation, a small stretch toward what glimmers. And in so doing, I strengthen my capacity to pay attention. In which direction do I find life and connectivity, quavering though they might be? Lucipetal doesn’t ask me to be hopeful so much as it asks me to notice. To recognize the light in others, to seek them out, to build small fires together.

This is my intention and guide for the upcoming year, and I hope you join me in defining your own word or phrase to carry you through. I have been doing this practice for years, and I’ve found it to influence my life in surprising (and sometimes dramatic) ways.

I leave you with these words from Zen teacher Taigen Dan Leighton, from his Winter Solstice Dedication as we forge onwards towards the days of returning light:

“On this Winter Solstice, Darkest day of the year, we now resolve
Not to turn away from the deep darkness of our troubled world and of our lives.
We welcome the light increasing now from this day on.
May we all spread this glowing light in our lives,
May the Bodhisattva Way pervade all human hearts,
And may the world begin healing in this awakening light…..”

May you be well this season!

The berries on my bare Virginia creeper in the December light.

December practice: Walking

December can get heavy - food, family, darkness, end of the year reflections. It can be a lot. So to counter that, try a simple walking practice this month. As you go out of the house, make your intention to notice lightness and reflection. Let your feet meet the ground and your eyes catch whatever flickers of light draw you: a porch lamp, rain drops on a branch, the fog of your own breath. Each time something draws your attention, name it silently, and then return to your noticing practice. At the end, pause and ask yourself, What did I turn toward today? In these short, attentive walks, the lights become guideposts, helping us find energy even in the darkest of seasons.

And finally….

Here’s to a Happy Solstice, Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, and peaceful New Year. I hope these holy days give you the rest and warmth you need and deserve. See you in 2026!