December 3rd, 2025
The third floor of the Waldorf school building is a small auditorium. There is a stage on the east end of the hall, and the floor is a wide expanse of hardwood. The space at times doubles as a gymnasium of sorts, but it is primarily used for student plays and music recitals. On the north and south sides of the hall are tall windows. There room is usually filled with light during the daytime.
That was not the case yesterday. The inside of the auditorium was dim. That was partly due to the overcast skies, but it was also because the faculty had hung colored silks over the windows. Each covering had a different hue: red, green, blue. Some light seeped through the cloth, but the room was darkened, and that was on purpose.
Most of the floor was covered with evergreen boughs. Some were pine, but most were spruce. The boughs were laid out to form a large spiral. In the center of the spiral sat a small table bearing half of a hollowed-out geode. Inside of the rock was a candle. On the floor, along the edges of the spiral, were felted stars, seashells, gnomes and fairies. On the outer borders of the evergreen spiral was a circle of folding chairs.
The kindergarteners were standing and sitting in the hallway with their caregivers. They were waiting for the beginning of the ritual of the winter spiral. There were the usual noise and confusion as the children and parents talked and mingled. Then the faculty members began leading the participants into the auditorium. A lone musician played a melody on a flute as everyone entered the room. Without being told to do so, every person fell silent, and each found a seat.
The teacher, Miss Sara, took an apple in her hand from a table contain dozens of them. The apple had a candle inserted into it. She entered the spiral walking slowly. At the center she carefully lit a match and ignited the wick of the candle in the geode. Then she took her candle and lit it from the flame in the rock. She silently walked part way out of the spiral, and then she placed her candle on the floor near the boughs. She came out of the spiral. We all sat there, and a single light struggled to illuminate the room. The musician plucked a song on his Persian oud. No one spoke.
Miss Sara picked up another apple that held a candle in it, and she handed it to the first child. The boy and his parents stood up. Miss Sara smiled and invited them to enter the spiral. They did. The boy seemed a bit self-conscious, and he marched to the center of the spiral. With the help of his parents, he lit his candle, walked several steps, and then placed the apple on the floor. They all walked out of the spiral. Now there were two lights in the room.
Sara gave candled apples to each child, and each child made the journey to the center. Some were confident. Some were nervous. Some enjoyed the attention. Some were shy. Each one lit his or her candle and left it on the path out of the spiral. The room gradually grew brighter. The musician switched to his Turkish lavta and strummed tunes in minor keys. The children were restless, but quiet.
At one point, Asher saw a girl carrying her apple. He smiled and whispered to me,
“Grandpa, that’s her.”
Her. A little girl in a dress with long blonde hair woven into intricate braids. The apple of Asher’s eyes.
I smiled back at him.
Asher walked up to the flame with Karin and me. He was slow and serious until he set his apple/candle on the floor. Then he hurried out of the spiral. He wanted his anonymity back.
One little girl was there without her parents. They both no doubt had to be at work. Miss Sara walked the spiral with the girl. Nobody made the journey alone.
By the end of the ritual, every child had taken the walk to the center of the spiral and had brought light back into a dark world. The room was still in shadow, but small candle flames made it more joyous, more hopeful.
The world was just a tiny bit brighter.
Frank is Emptiness 