Lights

At this time of year, the darkness seems to take only a short pause for daylight before enveloping us again.  The weather in the northeastern United States has (mostly) been uncommonly balmy, but the winter solstice came with its usual long night.  It's natural that so many of our traditions have us creating light to push back the darkness.

Our family's folk music group, Just Harmony (the four of us with our friend Rick), resumed our annual tradition of performing at First Night in Northampton (you can hear a bit here).  We are fortunate to have the slot right before the 6:15 p.m. fireworks, and we organize our evening around these two events.

Last weekend, we started what will likely become a new tradition for us, courtesy of my brother Eric.  He gave us sky lanterns that he had first seen in Thailand.  We wrote wishes for the new year on the paper, then lit our lantern in a field in New Hampshire on a cold, dark night.  As the fuel burned, it heated the air in the lantern, which filled, then silently lifted up into the sky, higher and higher.  When it was becoming a small dot in the sky, we saw that it had suddenly reached a level at which the wind was moving much faster, and the lantern swiftly disappeared across the sky.

The lantern gave me a new sense of what we are doing with these burning lights -- the Chanukah candles, the fireworks, and all.  I think it matters to us that  the heat carries the light upwards.  Whether floating silently upwards or going up with a bang, these lights are carrying upwards and outwards, sending our best wishes and hopes into the larger world.

Happy New Year, everyone!