It's that time of year again. The time of confusion, scowling, of eternal darkness and the absence of that joyous light I thrive on. It's Stick Season again, and once again I have no choice but to live with it.

Every year I always find this a difficult situation to deal with. The shortened days seem to suck out the energy from deep within the marrow of my bones. Scientists have come up with a technical name for this affliction, Seasonal Affective Disorder (appropriately enough called S.A.D. for short). It is understood that there is an actual physiological change experienced in our bodies during these dark gloomy days, which manifests itself in various mood swings and fits of depression and discontent concerning the world in general. This can be witnessed via rates of alcohol abuse and suicides which dramatically increases in the northern latitudes of the world during this time.

Generally I find it a fair assumption to reason that during the "day" a person is supposed to go about their business and do their daily chores. At "night" a person is supposed to eat dinner, relax with a good book, and hit the sack in preparation for another day filled with work, chores and anything else life throws in one's way. Well there is no longer any more "day" left in my world. I wake up into a glimmering of gray light, and then attend to my daily employment indoors. All day I'm away from any direct effect of whatever sunshine there might sometime be with its happy, warm associations. I emerge after a potentially long, and sometimes unpleasant day, to a world thrown into darkness and cold, that feels like some kind medieval esolation and despair. I have been thrown back to a dark Gothic period.

The bright and fun town I once knew is now an uninviting vision of bleakness. The people that actually are outside doing things have none of the relaxed stride that moved them about during the pleasant days of summer and fall that now seem to be a distant memory. Their world seems more determined to get their errands over with so they may return to the confines of their homes, which seem to have become more like internment cells. What have I done so horribly wrong to make the gods so angry with me that they take the sun from my world and punish us all? Does the omnipotent darkness despise me so much that it casts a hex to drown me in its all encompassing gloom? Joy is not easily to be found on these nights.

Summer has joy in its leisure. Autumn and spring have anticipation and excitement in their corner. Winter has the majestic beauty of a white layered wonderland spread out before us. Mud season is a right of passage into the glory and splendor of summer that has been much heralded throughout the region. The rest of the year makes sense. Stick season, however, breaks my spirit as no other time of year can. Until that first holding snow falls, covering the fields and forests with its cloak, I am in darkness. I don't quite know what it is I'm supposed to be doing with mt day it seems.

They say that nothing in nature is without reason, but I'm having a hard time finding the rhyme behind stick season. The weather doesn't co-operate, the sun can't help out, most animals have bugged out or have holed up, and people take on a different disposition from the long gone sunnier times.

However, I refuse to write off a system that has been working a good deal longer than I care to think about. The best rationalization I can come up with for this seemingly nreasonable season is that nature seems to be forcing me to slow down and look away from its overwhelming miracles, and look to an area that doesn't get to much attention much of the time. Maybe this is a time for some reflection and introspection. As our yes are dulled and blinded by the darkness of the night, maybe we should peer through the void and "see" what is really out there. Some people may not like what they see. A critical self-analysis can be a hard thing to swallow at times, especially when you are forced to look inward against your own wishes.

Through nature's uncompromising and unremitting sleep, we are forced to slow down and glimpse what are lives mean to us in a very basic sense. In removing the excursions from our life, we can get a glimpse of the intrinsic value of life and what it means. Then with the return of the beauty and power of winter, and later the sun, we carry this message around with us as the spark in our step. Lest we forget the important lesson we learned, we are lucky to have this taught to us every year around this time.

It has been some time now since I first learned this lesson I was taught in nature's classroom one chilly evening long ago. The lengthening nights and darkening days now refresh me with the thought of the added time to slow down and smell my roses. The new pace of life helps re-charge my batteries and show me the beauty of life I overlook.

The winter solstice is now a major event instead of a day on the calendar. Its arrival and passing, like in many earlier societies, tells me that the world will not end. I will again walk barefoot through the grass with warm winds blowing against my skin. Life will begin again as it has for the millennia, and my passing will bring no change to this cycle.

So let's give a cheer and celebrate stick season. As gloomy, dreary, depressing, and difficult as it is, aren't we better off for the rewards it is generous enough to bestow upon us? This time of year it is indeed a struggle to remain cheerful, yet this season has a magical power over me that reigns meback into line with natures grand cycle. I'm glad I'm put to this challenge every year. Every quest worth a darn always has its portal to travel through, and this is a toll I'm willing ot have extracted.