Let it Be Dark. Rest Your Eyes.

But we have arrived at a fallows, a time when last season’s seeds have been gathered and stored for the next cycle of planting, when our fall plantings are dormant in the ground, waiting for spring, when we have plowed nutrients into the soil and are letting it rest.  Today we too will take a couple of hours to rest on our laurels, to slow down, breathe deeply, and notice the harvest of this year.    

Let it be silent. rest your voice. Let it be dark. Rest your eyes. It takes darkness to see the miracles of light we have kindled with the few drops of oil we’ve had to work with. 

We have wrought many miracles this year. Risen up in massive numbers against deep rooted systemic racism, organized local responses to a devastating pandemic, created organizations, projects and campaigns, made new art, shared new ideas, started new collaborations, shared new practices, won political victories, national and local.

And we have stayed connected and alive, held ourselves, our families and friends, our neighbors, our communities and movements through all the challenges of this year. We have done the work of mending and sustaining.

So let’s pause together, for a moment of darkness and silence, and put our attention on all that we’ve done well over the last twelve months, and keep noticing until the knowledge goes into our bones. Then let’s speak them into the common air.

Aurora Levins Morales is a Puerto Rican Ashkenazi writer. She has written seven books and is the director of Rimonim Liturgy Project. She lives in Maricao, Puerto Rico.

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