December: a time for questions.

For most of us, there will be a time in our lives when we ask ourselves why we are here, and what our relationship to the surrounding world entails.
Some of us are drawn to these questions naturally, and spend their lives seeking and pondering possible answers. I think I belong in this category. Others literally run into these questions, unwillingly. The lion on their path forces them to consider everything anew.
The only ones who are exempt from asking them, are the ones whose lives are too short, too feeble or end very abruptly.
For the truly intellectually honest, there can never be a definite answer in details. Some of us might choose a faith, and stick to it, but as we live and grow, so the answers live and grow in richness and depth. The viewpoint from one of the branches of the adult tree has little in common with that of the vigorous seedling. And then there are those that want to seek forever, and in this constant change lies their temporary fulfilment. Even those among us, who deny the possibility of an ulterior meaning in the universe, are faced with these questions. What have they meant in the here and now for others, their kin, this temporary society at large?
Asking these questions is universally human. In our times, we often ask them by ourselves, if and when faced with them. In the past, there were designated times for communities to rejoice and mourn, abstain and be inebriated in the visible and the invisible world.
There is no proper or improper way to set aside time for contemplation. But to do so at a certain time of the year, when the surrounding world aids us in our withdrawal, enriches our silence. We are enveloped in the December darkness, almost like a child in the womb. A purely intellectual exercise becomes an experience, in unison with the natural world.

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