The winter solstice at year’s close is like the end of a long exhalation, a cycle of the planet opening into fullness then relaxing once again into emptiness. The inbreath and outbreath of this great iron ball comes from the tilted angle of its spin, whose off-kilter gyrations cause one half to present itself face-on to the Sun’s life-giving warmth while the other dwells in cold and darkness.

     But though it seems to be an emptiness, a bleak and hollow absence, to me it represents more of a contained fullness. The riotous frenzy of life during the year has been distilled and contained within the soil, the earth itself a great seed dwelling in the quietude of slumber as it readies itself to burst open in the time of flowering.

     The squirrels outside the living room window are madly frantic this time of year, scurrying about at twice the speed of sound with spasmodic and unpredictable movements. I’m not sure they’re accomplishing much with all this activity, flinging themselves across vast distances, zipping about on branchlets scarcely larger than a pencil, madly flinging leaves up from the forest litter and tossing them every which way. Nature graced them with the ability to easily do all this, but somehow forgot to give them sense enough to see how silly they are.

     But this is exactly how I often feel: madly pursuing tasks and duties and sudden whims with equal madness, a riot of motion which often ends with absolutely nothing of worth accomplished. What great creature is now watching me, chuckling to itself?

     I’m seeing that the true purpose of this time of ripe emptiness, is to empty myself of what is not essential. I keep coming back to this sentence:

     I am enough.

     I lack nothing. I’m sufficient, complete, whole. Not because I do, or build, or write, or produce art, or anything else that represents working for a future reward. Simply by right of being, existing as a human being on the planet. There is nothing to earn, no hurdle to jump, no ring of fire to jump through.

     This is the solid ground upon which we stand.

     The realization of this truth within the heart makes it possible to let go of needing anything but what we came to the party with: our breathing, blood-pumping, thinking, feeling bodies, vessels which contain our perfectly complete spirits with their infinitudes of emergent possibilities.

     It makes it easier to live with others without feeling we need to save them. Makes it easier to trust that we are capable, able to steer our bright ships as we wish, solid with resources to deal with whatever life persists at throwing in our direction.

     When I was a child, lying in bed at night, I would dream that a bright angel was hovering patiently above me, glowing wings and flowing robe, and slowly descend upon my body, soul to soul. All shame and fear dissolved; she (I was a sprouting young boy, so for me it was always female) knew me deeply. She saw me as good, complete, right. She surrounded me with her limitless love till I glowed from a timeless place deep within.

     I realize now, these many years later, that this mythical angel has been with me all my life. I myself am now the angel, the agent of my own completion, dropping down to whisper in my ear all those things which I have ever known but often forgotten.

     I am enough. We are enough.

     All the world is enough.