Reflections from the Winter Solstice.
Being held in the darkness and seeing what is needed.
If you ask anyone in my close circle, they’ll tell you when it comes to celebrations I tend to not be basic in my endeavors.
When tasked with planning baby showers, engagement parties, birthdays, work parties and even full weddings, the Pinterest boards become many and the ideas flow freely. I don’t know what it is… well, actually I do… I love the creativity of it and for people feeling to feel joy. When I can have a hand in the spaces or moments that create that… I have a hard time reeling it in.
But when it comes to seasonal celebrations, I’ve found that the more simple and intentional the practices are, the more meaningful they seem to be. And I suppose that seems fitting given that nature is perhaps one of the most evident examples of how simplicity can be beautiful. This year, for the Winter Solstice, it felt even more important for me to honor that simplicity.
This year especially has been a challenging one, and so my intentions with the Solstice were simple: slow down, honor nature, embrace the darkness.
And I did that. I had a simmer pot on the stove full of citrus, evergreens and spices. I foraged from my yard putting together my first Yule log, I made birdseed treats for my wild friends, we went for a winter walk under a blanket of bright stars (Venus was SO bright!), and then we came home for dinner and an evening in candlelight.
As I stood in my kitchen watching the sun set, with fresh chai tea concentrate on the stovetop wafting its sweet spiced scent into the air, I realized just how peaceful it is to follow the sun’s lead on that day. I noticed my body slowing down… feeling a bit more at peace and a bit more cared for… as if it was thanking me for paying attention to the sun. Giving it an opportunity to embrace the quiet of the night.
As one of my goals was to not use any artificial light in the evening, other than the lights on the Christmas tree, here’s what I learned from embracing the evening in candlelight.
#1 - Our eyes adjust to the darkness.
We’re often so quick to turn on lights (both literally and figuratively) to fully illuminate our way, but it did not take long for our eyes to adjust to the glow of candles. If we give ourselves a chance to adjust to the darkness, we’re capable seeing our way through it.
#2 - We see what we need to see, not everything.
As I made a salad for dinner I noticed that while I couldn’t see every loose speck of chopped dill on the counter, I could see what I was making… I could see the big stuff. When we’re able to see everything, we most likely see more than we need to… more than we know what to do with. We don’t need to see everything all the time, but we can see what we need to see.
#3 - Warmth wraps around us.
It felt incredibly charming and soft in the warm glow of the candles. Specifically, there was something about how the light was at our level instead of shining down on us from above. We were there, wrapped in it, embraced by it… a part of it’s warmth and soft amber glow. The darkness was creating a space for us to be held in the light.
These lessons… these reflections… were felt strongly this year.
The opportunity to sit with the darkness and honor it instead of rush through it. The chance to intentionally slow down instead of hustling through the season. The moments to reconnect with the natural winter world… giving it a proper moment to shine. These themes of the Solstice hit so close to home.
They remind me that I can sit with the darkness inside of myself, feeling it all, instead of trying to bury it down inside or not feel it. That I can slow down to rest and it doesn’t mean that I’m lazy. That I can reconnect to the parts of myself that aren’t the most colorful or lively, but that serve as a foundation to who I am. It’s almost as if this day is the day that gives me permission to go against the status quo of expectations for our modern society and to simply be.
That I can adjust to the darkness, see what I need to see and be held by it.
