November 13, 2025
On my way to something else in my email, I somehow ended up with a note from a reader from ten years ago! She was sharing a poem she loved, in response to a Musings article I’d written about the season of lights.
Lately, I’ve been noticing how dark it is in the mornings. In summer, waking feels like entering into light — a kind of welcome. But in winter, rising can feel like stepping into the uncharted dark, as though the day itself is inviting us to explore what is unseen in life, or perhaps within ourselves. Best not to get too morose about that, I remind myself. The dark, after all, has its own wisdom.
Then I came across the poem Cacina sent me, and it gave me another thought entirely.
From reader Cacina Meadu — December 17, 2015
“I’ve always loved this poem by Patrick Overton. May it also inspire you. 🙂
Merry Christmas, and a very happy New Year!
Cacina”
Faith
When you walk to the edge of all the light you have
and take that first step into the darkness of the unknown,
you must believe that one of two things will happen:
There will be something solid for you to stand upon,
or, you will be taught how to fly.
— Patrick Overton
This touched my heart with its quiet truth.
I’ve lived long enough to know it’s always one or the other — the ground rising to meet you, or the wings unfolding just in time.
Either way, it’s a win.
And perhaps that’s what winter — and life — are always whispering:
Don’t fear the dark, stand on the brink. Step forward. The light you need will find you, or you will find yourself flying.
With love for your moment,
XOMayet
