Many traditions tell stories about how, in the deep of MidWinter, if we listen closely, we can hear the animals talking.
As a child, when I heard about this, I believed, hoping against hope, they would say something special to me — just me. Ah, the self-centeredness of childhood and the deep trusting faith. I believed, because I wanted to, that there was only one special night when they would call our names, rather than there being only one special night when we would deign to listen.
Continue reading “The Animals at Midwinter”