Winter Solstice

My goal this year, and every year moving forward, is simple. On the winter solstice, we rest.

By the time we arrive here, the body is already tired. We’ve pushed through decorating, posadas, school events, family gatherings, and for many of us, a round or two of gripa that moved through the house whether we wanted it to or not.

December asks a lot before it ever asks us to pause.

The timing of the solstice feels exact. It comes after the effort, but before the biggest holidays. A natural threshold. A moment where the system can finally exhale before more togetherness, more giving, more noise.

The winter solstice is the longest night of the year. It isn’t something to rush through. It’s a reminder that rest is part of the rhythm.

A Winter Solstice Ritual

Begin after sunset.

Lower, dim or turn off some of the lights. If you can, let the house be quiet or at the very least invite some darkness to be present without resisting it.

Find a cozy, quiet corner. Light one candle or a small fire outside or in your fireplace. Sit somewhere comfortably. Feet on the floor if you can. One hand on your body to help you settle.

Take a few slow breaths. No technique. Just notice that you are here.

Then, name three things. Quietly or out loud.

First, name what this season has asked you to carry.
The effort. The sickness. The gatherings. The pushing.

Second, name one thing you are ready to lay down tonight.
Something you do not need to bring forward, even if it’s just for tonight.

Third, name one thing you want to protect as the light begins to return.
Not a goal. A quality. A pace. A feeling.

Sit with the candle for a few moments longer. Let the pause land.

When you’re ready, close simply.
Warm tea. A blanket. Early rest.

The solstice reminds us that rest comes before renewal.
Esta noche, descansamos.