The more our mind becomes a 'computer intellect', the more difficult it becomes to perceive atmospheres related to the seasons and the annual celebrations. This intellect makes sure that the mood movements evoked by the changes in the course of the year are no longer experienced in the bright light of the day. During the day there are the brilliant colours, at night there is darkness. It's that simple. And in summer the light is long lasting, in winter it gets dark early. Furthermore, you hurry through your life to be in time for all those things that fill your life.
The nights are not yet holy, but they are coming, it is Advent. It would be very good if we could feel the metamorphosis in the moods that can be experienced below the direct surface. The romanticising poet Novalis can help with this, in his poem 'Hymnen an die Nacht' (Hymns to the Night), which is an ode to the magical effects of the night. Here are some of his words:
'Aside I turn to the holy, unspeakable, mysterious Night. Afar lies the world -- sunk in a deep grave -- waste and lonely is its place. In the chords of the bosom blows a deep sadness. I am ready to sink away in drops of dew, and mingle with the ashes. -- The distances of memory, the wishes of youth, the dreams of childhood, the brief joys and vain hopes of a whole long life, arise in gray garments, like an evening vapor after the sunset. In other regions the light has pitched its joyous tents. What if it should never return to its children, who wait for it with the faith of innocence?'
Advent by Mieke Mosmuller