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| -J. Lennon |
Tonight, I witnessed shared silence like no other beauty yet to ufold.
Tonight, I sat in shared silence beholding to others warmed glow.
Tonight, I drank in shared silence deep down to the bottom of my big toe. -J. Gould
This night, Saturday before the second Sunday of Advent, the fourth night of Hannukah, the season of lights on the roof... This night, my family drove quietly to school in Altadena, dressed in Sunday finery, to take in our daughter's last class Advent Spiral. Hallie, a third grader, twinkling in her sparkly black, and our son, donning elfin hat and new green vest, walked the laid out spiral adding light to the dark.
The Advent Spiral at our Waldorf school is most often set up by the Kindergarten teachers and parents after school on the Friday before the second Sunday of Advent. Starting Thursday, community members bring in fresh boughs of spruce and fir, evergreens of all kinds, and pinecones. A couple of parents from each class planning to participate in the spiral, core apples and prepare them with beeswaz candles. In our schools Eurythmy room, the festival enliveners cut and entwine and lay out a double spiral of greenery, creating a path to the center for the children to walk. Along the weave, a few stumps with low candled lanterns, give lighted markers for the darkened room. Knee-high at center, a taller stump - with upright candle, crystals, cones, and greens, - stands as a beacon burning bright.
Tonight, upon arrival to school, we walked Hallie to her class, settled her in with dressed-up classmates, and then settled into the darkened Eurythmy room with all parents and siblings. The recorder teacher played light and lovely piano in the quiet room, helping us all to be absorbed in the meditative atmosphere. Jack too was able to melt into the flame-watching and deep inhaling in the room while we waited for the third graders to enter. Footsteps on the porch at a perfect piano pause, and then a hushed singing from the outside approaching childrens’ voices; the tone hit home for me as my breath caught in my throat a few beats.
“A gentle candle flicker, becomes a flame of gold...’’
Tonight, the line of angel singers stepped through, from out of the cold, into a silent room, and with their song, they carved the silence deeper still. Teacher told a silvery, blue-maned story and then cued the piano once more to play into the silent form. One by one, each child approached the spiral opening on turn, received their apple stuck candle, and made their way along the curves.
Each gait, each stride, each swish, each glide, each step a witnessed touch.
Each face, in the glow of the warm center flame, a marvel to be seen.
Each dip, each catch, each wick, each fetch, each sip of flame taken by each child to light their fire from the source, a miracle in plain sight.
Once each individuals flame was lit up, a return, out of the spiral, took place in slower pace. Careful and reverent, each child carried their flame to be placed upon a star along the spiral. And so, with each child, the brightness of the light beamed fuller into the space. Hallie was beautiful, so tall and confident in her choice of rhythm; she told me she was the ninth candle star. Following the twenty-two in the class, the siblings were invited to walk the spiral with their brothers and sisters. Hallie took Jack by the hand, and at the end of a long line of sibling pairs, he carried his apple, guided by his sister into the spiral flame. She lit the candle, with his hand placed upon hers, and in their glow, I was struck by pure beauty and joy. He led her out, while she carried his flame, and together they placed the last flaming star in the spiral. The third graders were led to their dark classroom while the parents gathered the apples. Each child was returned to their parent, and most then ate their apples. We relit our candles for our bedtime stories at home.
My household has yet to manifest an advent wreath; soon, soon, I hope. And when we do, we’ll light two flames along with the center source, and gather around the greens, emblems from our Advent poem. Then, each night, for three weeks still to come, we’ll speak, and sing and light our candles. It’s a silent worthy tradition – Bon Iver!!!
The First Light of Advent, It is the Light of Stones.
Stones that live in crystals and seashells, and bones.
The Second Light of Advent, it is the Light of Plants.
Plants that reach up to the sun, and in the breezes dance.
The Third Light of Advent, it is the Light of Beasts.
The light of Hope that we may see, In greatest and in least.
The Fourth Light of Advent, it is the Light of Man.
The light of Love, the light of Thought, to give and to understand.
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| 'sharing silence' |
I am so grateful for this season of light. May we feel the refuel and warmth which turning in offers profuse! I am grateful to zbook for continuing to show exponentially how our tune in frequencies keep up the charge!
Blessings and Be well One and All, -Jennifer
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