Winter Solstice – I Become Empty

The longest night, the shortest day. The mysteries that open up within speak in symbols, impulses, deep movements toward an inner cave, my sanctuary, my quietest self. Where am I? If not where, then who? If not who, then when, or why? Why am I? Am I so far from my self that I don’t know these answers? I empty myself completely. For in being empty, I find forgiveness. I forgive myself and so invite what is silently waiting. I ask for forgiveness, not because I am or was uncaring but because I am fallible. In my fallibility, I acknowledge how little I know about everything. I empty myself completely. For in becoming empty, I find the love of the universe holding me gently in its palm, telling me silently that all is well. That everything comes to be manifest when I empty out the expectation that I will have what I seek. For what do I know? What do I seek?

When creativity roams the land, it too searches to embody itself and plant itself in fertile ground. If it finds the soil cramped with overgrowth and clutter, to what shall it become? Am I ready? How many ties are still clung to because I’ve held on to my rightness, my hurt, or my anger? What path do I find myself on where I’m yearning to fly on freedom’s wings but have not allowed spirit’s winds to enter?

The emptiness of letting go of all that my past dreamt for me. On this longest night, I think about how different I am now and what the universe has in store for me. To say I am without intention, without desire, and without connection is not true. Spirit stirs within me, seeking a voice, seeking a moment to watch the beautiful blue sky and the golden sun, even as I must work amongst loud tools and the shouting of sharp nails and debris. It is not the softness that creativity had soothed me with before. It is different. I am called to be something different right now. And what is that? So many things I was once confident in, now my ego, bruised and struggling, gets pushed for not knowing enough, asking more questions than there is time or patience for, and smirked at for trying to keep up and for being new to all of it. The patronizing gazes are probably natural. Simply a byproduct, not out of cruelty, yet I can’t lie and say that it doesn’t hurt; I have to hide that part of my brow.

Am I, or must I be a warrior, being called to the battle line each day, as if conscripted by some external force? Or have I been pulled from the familiar and all too predictable coziness of my structured life to stand tall amidst so much chaos? If everything is stripped from me and I’m thrown among an unfamiliar landscape, only to remain tall and rooted in myself despite my lack of confidence, is that not worth something in the end? If I ask “who am I?”, after all that’s said and done many years from now, perhaps I can say that I’ve done well, or at least that is my wish.

And so I become empty of all expectation of what being expectant looks or feels like. Before I built lines of counterpoint and walls of orchestrated chords. Now, I can frame rooms with lumber, and trim the rooms with drywall and baseboards. I can’t complain about where I am. My present unfolded naturally and without force. I didn’t want to be here; it chose me. I wanted to stand in front of an orchestra with my baton or hear them perform my symphony. But that door closed as others were chosen and other agendas decided that I couldn’t participate or work in the arts. It too is a different world, one that for now, I am very happy to be away from. Learning to build and be with a different kind of team, even among the uncomfortable harshness of its physical demands, is more rewarding to me than being around groups of people who think that what they’re doing is good for society.

When I think of my music writing days, immersed in composition, even then I must admit that I felt confined by it all. I recall the hours, days, months and years I was working on a piece for orchestra. To have it read through by the TSO was incredible. But in retrospect, 20 minutes is all I got. That ratio is pretty incredible. I still have dreams that it finally got programmed. Perhaps a deep part of myself still wants to be recognized for the incredible hard work and perseverance.

Perhaps we are always adapting, struggling and shaping our lives, and endeavouring to birth something beautiful. To compose something so pristine, so timeless, where each note and chord gently takes you somewhere, that is both the emptiness needed and the fullness gained when we become freed of what we want and become the recipients of a grace that we can only guess at.

I don’t know anything, I can only guess at it. When I do look out at the blueness of the sky, I know that I am living the fullest I can and that my dance with the universe will lead me to everything I need and more. Even now, as I have the night off, and a candle lit with Bach playing, maybe things haven’t changed as much as I think. The magic of life and growth, the essence of creativity, the winds of inspiration, are flowing exactly as they should.

Yours,

Daniel

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