Facing the Light

I’m writing this in the dark of 6 AM, contemplating the Winter Solstice to come on the weekend. I’ve always loved its long night lit with candles and then in the weeks that follow, the gentle and glorious return of longer afternoons. Even on the coldest days when I lived in Montreal, I liked to be outside to see the stretch of the red afternoon skies get longer and later. I worked in a bakery, and a co-worker and I would step from the steamy inside to stand in our long aprons on the snowy sidewalk and watch the sky change colour.

Those were the days when I was going to ACT UP meetings, and one World AIDS Day marched the streets with a mask on my face to symbolize the women that were dying too, in a time when people weren’t seeing women affected by this disease in Canada. Even now, women are understandably reluctant to name their status, lest they have to face discrimination because of it. 

Solstice is the story of renewal, the recognition that we have made it through the darkness and spring is to come. Ancient celebrations affirming the vibrancy of life even within the darkest night influence many traditions now: lights, decorated evergreen trees that signify life, roaring fires, connections with other people. 

HIV connects people. It has changed the shape of our world, affecting millions of lives and generations of people. It has carved its path through economies and schools and governments. It has made people really, really uncomfortable. HIV has brought to light the ugliness of humanity: how women are beaten, cast out of their communities or even killed because of their infection. HIV has highlighted the prejudices we carry inside and out: homophobia, racism, sexism, and more. HIV’s “unsavoury” nature has allowed us to say “Oh those people get HIV because….”  and discount whomever those people are in the moment. HIV has brought to light human vulnerability and prejudices, and many in the world have worked to push it into the darkness, to deny it and carry on as before.

We can allow HIV to be a darkness that has no light of hope or connection. Or we can admit that an HIV is a gloom that we can light our way out of together. In the darkness, there is prejudice and inaction. In the light, we can embrace the knowledge that we need to work together to address vulnerabilities and prejudices.   

I choose to believe in the light (obvious, I guess, given where I work). Here at the edge of Solstice, I believe even more. There is a lightness to come. We all can carry a candle. A bright Solstice to all.

- Janet

This was posted on Friday, December 19th, 2008 at 9:00 am and is filed under Daily Moments, Spiritual and Emotional Health . Feel free to respond, or trackback. Read our comments policy.

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