My Dear Fiona - Chapter 30 The Gray Gull

There is an entire obscure half to life, one we avoid, forget, overlook. 

You can’t overlook it in the northern realms, not during winter, when the nights are long, and where people sought refuge underground to escape the harshness of the weather for centuries.

The dark half of the year, finding refuge in the earth, embracing stillness, these customs have been abandoned a long time ago, and because they became unfamiliar, they make us apprehensive.

There is power in this dark half we avoid; it has its own laws, its creations, its wealth of stories told by the fire during the months when there is nothing to do other than cozy up and wait for the sun to return.

The dark is the keeper of stories, songs, and magic. It is the place and time for contemplation and refining thought. It affords freedom from distraction and a cocoon inside which one can turn one’s gaze inwards.

Magic and mystery thrive in the dark half of life, because the latter is endlessly patient, focused and unswayed. 

Refined thought requires silence and solitude, while wisdom is gained away from distractions.

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