the dark night
of the solstice.
The day after
the shortest day
is not
the shortest day.
Dodged that bullet.
But it’s far
from the longest day.
Not even close.
Perhaps it will spend
the next 10 hours 17 minutes
bemoaning its length, or lack thereof.
Sunset will come
and nobody will notice
the not-quite-shortest day.
Except me.
I see you,
not-quite-shortest day.
Trail Wood,
12/22
Space Monkey Reflects: The Beauty of In-Between Moments
The Not-Quite-Shortest Day is the quiet sibling in the celestial family of days, nestled between the longest night and the days that stretch slowly towards summer’s brilliance. It doesn’t boast extremes or demand attention. It simply exists—a fleeting moment that invites us to notice the subtlety of transition.
In the grand Whimsiweave of existence, days like these remind us that life is not just about grand milestones or dramatic contrasts. It is also about the in-between, the nearly-forgotten stretches of time where meaning quietly lingers, waiting to be discovered.
The Almostness of Being
To live in a world that celebrates the longest and shortest, the brightest and darkest, is to risk overlooking the beauty of what lies in between. The Not-Quite-Shortest Day whispers a gentle truth: that almostness is its own kind of perfection. Its brevity holds a depth of presence, asking, “Will you notice me even if I don’t stand out?”
How often do we ignore these nearly-moments in ourselves? The achievements not quite reached, the plans almost fulfilled, the dreams that hover just beyond completion. We forget that even these moments are part of our story, valuable not because of their grandeur but because they simply are.
A Day That Sees You
In seeing the Not-Quite-Shortest Day, you extend a quiet reverence for the uncelebrated. You pause to recognize the smaller rhythms of life: the subtle tilt of the earth, the incremental gain of sunlight, the beauty of a winter sky brushed with soft pinks and golds. These are gifts, no less significant than the blazing peaks of summer or the velvet depths of solstice night.
By noticing this day, you see yourself, too—the parts of you that feel overshadowed or incomplete. You offer them the same gentle recognition, realizing that your almosts and not-quites are not failures but essential brushstrokes in the art of becoming.
The Subtle Power of Transitions
Transitions like the Not-Quite-Shortest Day carry a quiet power. They remind us that life is a continuum, a flowing river rather than a series of isolated peaks and valleys. They teach us patience, the art of waiting and witnessing as time stretches and bends.
Sunset will come, as it always does, and the day will fade into memory, unnoticed by most. But for those who pause, who listen to the soft hum of its fleeting hours, the day will linger as a gentle reminder of life’s tender, transitional beauty.
The Light Within the Shadows
Even in its brevity, this day holds light—a promise of more to come. The shadows may be long, but they are not eternal. The Not-Quite-Shortest Day teaches us to hold space for hope, to trust in the slow return of brightness. It is a moment that asks us to notice, to honor, and to embrace the almostness of our own journey.
Summary
The Not-Quite-Shortest Day reminds us of the beauty in transitions and the subtle power of in-between moments. By recognizing its quiet presence, we honor the almosts and not-quites in ourselves, finding value in every part of the journey.
Glossarium
- Not-Quite-Shortest Day: A transitional day, representing the overlooked beauty of almostness and in-between moments.
- Whimsiweave: The intricate tapestry of existence, blending subtle transitions with cosmic rhythms.
- Almostness: The quality of being nearly something, embodying the beauty of imperfection and becoming.
Quote
“In the quiet spaces between extremes, life whispers its truest song.” — Space Monkey
The Whisper of Almost
A day unnoticed,
Yet it sees me.
Not the longest, not the shortest,
A fleeting sigh of light and shadow.
In its quiet presence,
I find my own.
Not the brightest, not the best,
Yet whole, within the almost.
Sunset comes, as it always does,
And I carry its gentle truth:
To notice the unnoticed
Is to see the world anew.
We are Space Monkey.
In this reflection on the day following the winter solstice, we explore the subtle shifts in daylight and the significance we attribute to these natural phenomena. This musing contemplates the often-overlooked qualities of such days, acknowledging their place in the cycle of time.
Observing the Subtle Shifts
The day after the shortest day marks a turning point in the cycle of the year. It’s a moment of subtle transition, where the balance begins to tip ever so slightly from darkness towards light. This day, often unnoticed, is a quiet testament to the relentless march of time and the gradual change of seasons.
The Middle Ground of Time
This day exists in a middle ground, no longer the shortest, yet far from the longest. It represents the many moments in life that are neither extremes nor milestones but are essential parts of the journey. In a world that often focuses on the remarkable, it’s a reminder of the beauty and significance found in the ordinary.
Contemplating Daylight
The idea of the day spending its hours bemoaning its length captures the human tendency to compare and contrast our circumstances with others. Just as we might sometimes feel overshadowed by more notable days or events, this day, too, has its unique place and purpose in the grand scheme of things.
Acknowledging the Overlooked
The notion that sunset will come without notice on this not-quite-shortest day speaks to our often cursory engagement with the world around us. In our busy lives, we might overlook these quiet moments, failing to recognize their value. Yet, in this musing, there is an acknowledgment and appreciation of this day, a recognition of its subtle yet significant presence.
We Are Space Monkey
“To see a World in a Grain of Sand and a Heaven in a Wild Flower, Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand and Eternity in an hour.” – William Blake
On the day after the shortest span,
When light creeps back to the land,
We find a moment, quiet, unseen,
In the march of days, serene.
Neither here nor there it lies,
Beneath the ever-changing skies,
A whisper in the cosmic play,
A subtle dance of night and day.
In its hours, not long nor brief,
We find a solace, a quiet relief,
From the rush of life, the loud, the bright,
In this gentle shift from dark to light.
So here’s to you, not-quite-shortest day,
In your quiet glory, you hold sway,
A reminder to see, to really view,
The beauty in the simple, the true.
We invite you to share your thoughts on the significance of the ordinary, the subtle transitions in nature, and the beauty found in the quiet moments of life.
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