In January, in the darkest, coldest days of Winter, I attended an event at our church entitled ‘Summoning the Light with Song: Community Singing Experience.’ We sat in a circle of chairs at the front of the sanctuary. Our song leader sang a line, and we repeated it; again and again we sang back what she sang. On some songs we sang different words and parts. Others were sung as a round after we learned the basics. It was a simple, pure way of singing, and I was surprised how beautiful it sounded in such a short amount of time and practice.

I’ve been summoning the light in a different way since our move—in a circle of trees in our backyard. Even in the bright light of midday, the sun stretches to peek above the trees as it arcs low in the southern sky. I bundle up and place an old green Army blanket on the freezing metal chair. When the sun is just right, it hits my face, the only circle of exposed skin that even has a chance of converting those golden rays into Vitamin D.

At the center of the circle of trees is a fire circle—the only fire we’ve had so far was on Christmas Day after we moved truckloads of boxes and miscellaneous garage things.

While sunshine is the ultimate ‘cherry on the top’ of my day, the more sustainable and reliable givers are the trees. Most are Pines, some are Spruces, a few are Cedars, with a couple of deciduous trees thrown in. I sit in the circle of trees, sometimes with sunlight, sometimes with snowflakes, and soak in their goodness.

After sitting in the tree circle today, I remembered an old CD we had gotten when the kids were little that was called “A Circle is Cast.” I dug it out and listened to it. It was communal singing from a group named Libana—similar to the songs we had sung at the church event! The title song ‘A Circle is Cast’ repeated and harmonized with the words ‘a circle is cast again and again and again…’ Think about the circles in our lives—our circle of friends and family, the circle of a football huddle deciding what play to run, reading a book to a circle of preschoolers, a meeting of the minds in a circle around a conference table, and playing games in a circle—cards, board games, and Duck, Duck, Goose.

Circles represent stability and safety. Each ‘point’ in the circle has a job or responsibility to the other ‘points’ in the circle.

Sometimes there is a fail in the circle. One of the larger Pines in the circle of trees has died.

It must have been in the last year—there are still dry, brown pine needles and dark cones clinging to the branches. The loss is evident; the dead remains are a poignant reminder of what once was. Mourning for a member of the circle. So there is a wobbling of the once-safe circle—it holds together with the other ‘points,’ but there is a hitch, a limp, a miss because of the loss.

But at the base of the dead tree, there are replacements growing! The old tree had spread its seeds years ago, and the offspring will take their place in the circle.

Like throwing a lasso, we cast a circle again and again in our lives. We desire a stable circle around us—points of light that have our backs, that not only do us no harm, but protect us from harm and breathe life into our wounded selves when the world seems against us. The good thing about a circle is that no one point, no one member has the responsibility for the strength and stability of the whole–-one only has to do their part. The burden is shared. There is a synergy that emerges from the circle—in other words, there is more strength and power from the group as a whole than the added parts of the individuals. That’s science. And that’s spirituality. I sit in my circle of trees—they give me oxygen, essential oils that emanate from the needles and resins, the stability of deep roots, the uplifting songs of wind and birds in their branches, and a life force that is unexplainable and undeniable. I have cast my circle—again.