Bring the Light to the World

As a child, I eagerly counted down the days to Christmas, anticipating the arrival of a gift-laden, giant sack bearing Santa Claus. 

Now, as a grown simple man, my countdown is for the Winter Solstice, the shortest day and longest night of the year. The return of the light, if not the heat, is gift enough.

My strong connection to the Winter Solstice might be due to the fact that I was born on the second shortest day of the year, way back in 1961. 

I have sometimes wondered - did my birth help bring a bit of light back into the world, setting my purpose right from the start with this unbreakable connection? I like to think so. 

I know correlation is not causation, but the light did begin to return to the world very shortly after I was born. Just saying.

Either way, this day is welcomed by all in the northern hemisphere, because who couldn't use a bit more daylight in their day? 

This year, like every year, my solstice present will be the returning light. That, and peace, are the only things I would like to see under my living solstice tree on the morning of December 21, 2025.

In a world that can be busy, loud, and disconnected from nature, the Winter Solstice reminds us of the natural rhythms that still govern our lives. 

It's a time to reflect on the past and look forward to the future, to appreciate the simple joys of life, and to resist the constant noise of modern society.

Linda and I would like to extend our hope for peace and light for all of the beautiful candle bearers that visit here to read our humble blog and help illuminate our lives. 

May all your simple wishes for health and happiness come to pass in this new year.  

My prediction is that 2026 will burst not only with the bright, cleansing light of Truth, but also with infinite promise for those willing to do the hard work.

Onward, into the light.

The Joy of Boring

Most people would call my life boring—and from the outside, they’d be right. However, I haven’t experienced a single moment of boredom ever.
For the last couple of decades I have rarely ventured more than about 20 km from home, even back when we owned a vehicle. 
I spend most days here, never going out purely for entertainment. Linda and I find our quiet life highly entertaining in the most natural, low-key way.
Quitting the rat race and disentangling from consumerism means I no longer get the jolt of buying new things. Instead, I get a quiet kick from repairing old possessions and using items decades old that still work perfectly.
We’re not into mainstream entertainment or socializing. We neither attend nor host parties—our liveliest “social events” are the occasional lively comment thread on this blog.
We don’t travel unless it’s absolutely necessary, and very few trips are. Yet by staying put so long, and proceeding so slowly, this place has revealed its intimate secrets to us. 
We’ve watched trees grow that weren’t even here when we arrived in 2014 after crossing the continent in our quest for peace and quiet in an appropriate and affordable setting. 
And after more than a decade of feeding the local crows, we now visit with generations of the same family. They bring their fledglings each spring to show them where the daily peanuts appear, recognizing our faces and footsteps from a tree in the yard, or from the power lines across the street.
So, what is boring, exactly, about peace, clarity, and liberation from the tedium of the daily grind? 
Linda once put this to the Universe: “Is enlightenment boring?”
Perhaps it is—to those still chasing the next material thrill. But to us, this quiet, ordinary life feels like the deepest adventure there is.
What about you? Have you found richness in what others call “boring”? We’d love to hear in the comments.