Share. It’s good to share. See that person, they really want what you have. Give it to them. It will make them happy. Sharing is good.’
How does that sit in your body? What questions arise?
Now, we hear the story of St. Martin.
‘St. Martin was a knight. His father was a high-ranking soldier in the Roman army, and St. Martin was forced into a similar life by order as the son of a veteran. It was not an easy life. He shared his living quarters with his horse and several other knights along with their horses. He rarely had money or spare provisions, only his horse and what his body carried, issued to him by the cavalry. Winters were severe and atop his horse during his nightly rounds, St. Martin would feel his chest tighten as he drew in the frigid air. His hands and cheeks were endlessly chapped and red from the wind that relentlessly ripped at them.
On one especially unforgiving winter night, St. Martin came upon a man who had no dwelling to retreat to. His only protection was the threadbare garments that draped limply on his frail frame. St. Martin met the man’s gaze, struck by the light in his eyes despite being dismissed and forgotten by countless passerby before. Another gust of wind blew, and the man braced against its force, closing his eyes, his arms holding tightly against themselves, determined to keep the needling temperatures from reaching the tender skin beneath his billowing garments. St. Martin also braced for the wind, but along with its bite, he also felt the weight of his cavalry cloak.’
How does that sit in your body? What questions arise?
Martinmas reminds us, through the story of St. Martin, what it means to truly see another person – to witness their experience, and to allow it to alter our own. Sharing, then, is not simply a lesson in meeting desire, but an act that transforms both giver and receiver. St. Martin ultimately shares half of his cloak with the man in the story by using his sword to divide it in two. He accepts that he will have less so another can have enough – and in that exchange, light is not lost; it is amplified.
Stories are central in a Waldorf curriculum – not only during festivals and in early childhood, but through the exploration of letters and numbers, science and history. They pull on our imagination, strengthen our internal world, and expand our curiosities. They ignite what is human.
This week we gather in the spirit of this story, the spirit of Martinmas, during our Lantern Walks. Our voices will softly unite in reverent song, as we walk slowly side by side, lantern in hand – each of us contributing a faint light to what becomes a sparkling landscape – lighting the way for all. Together, we create a distinct image of what we are to one another, what we are to ourselves, and what we contribute as a collective.
Last year, grades 1-4 walked under a Denver night sky illuminated by the aurora borealis. Two years ago, we navigated a blizzard resulting in freezing temperatures and deep snow-covered pathways; tightly held hands and lanterns that twinkled against an intensely dark sky; fluffy snowflakes falling on tiny hats and cascading upon a thick white apron of snow.
This year, we look forward once again to making new memories and footprints as we come together for our beloved Lantern Walks
Lantern Walk 2024 Reel – Thank you for spreading your light!
Lantern Walk 2025 Post – aurora borealis
2nd Grade Discover their Lanterns Aglow 2026 Reel
Attached, you will find the lyrics for each lantern song, so you can join your student(s) in filling your homes, communities, and Lantern Walks with their reverence (and joy). I’m also sharing some moments of morning singing from this week, including one cheerful bonus song.
Lantern Song Lyrics and Music.pdf
At minimum – they make our brain work, for which the benefits of are measurable. In a more expansive interpretation – they speak to the piece of us that is the piece that exists in all of us.
St. Martin had no money or other provisions to spare that night because he so often prioritized the needs of others over comfort of his own.
-Written by Alex Wheatlake