the light returning

happy winter solstice

good morning and happy winter solstice ~

out my window is a fresh blanket of snow. the trees sway in the wind, evergreen boughs heavily droop to the floor, and snowflakes whip through the air like clouds of dust. the crow cries in the distance and i breathe.

:

as someone who has loathed christmas for most of their adult life, the winter solstice has become my new beacon of light. i was a scrooge. and honesty, it feels unfair to use that label — really, i’m just a highly sensitive being with a complicated relationship to my family, like many.

the holiday season can be hard. the energy out in the world is frantic, there’s pressure to consume and give at every corner, and the emphasis on gathering with family can be heavy for those without. i’ve always felt conflicted within this frenetic movement, but something shifted when i started to recall and revel in old traditions.

celebrating the winter solstice — the longest and darkest night of the year, this maximum tilt away from the sun — just made sense to me. it brought me closer to my nature — as it inherently involves awareness of the natural world — and it helped me feel connected to my ancestors. for thousands of years, humans have celebrated this potent time of year. traditional music, food, stories, and bonfires to honor the light returning are all a part of my heritage and likely yours too. and who's to say their souls aren’t still revelling?

each year at the solstice, my partner and i write 12 intentions for the new year, put them in a bowl and blindly burn one each night leading to new year’s day — a prayer to the universe. candles are lit, ancestral foods are made, and dreams are dutifully recounted each morning. revising and recalling solstice traditions has turned my agency around the holidays into something fun — i remember that my life can look however i want it to, and that not following the well-worn path of christmas doesn’t mean a devoid of joy and celebration.

i hope that wherever your feelings reside about this time of year, you can peer into a bit of the magic around you. wishing you many magical solstice dreams, potent reflection, and an easeful return to the light.

𖦹𖦹𖦹

know a friend who might want to read this? feel free to forward it along.

beijos,

britt

leaving you a solstice whisper:

“It’s dark because you are trying too hard.
Lightly child, lightly. Learn to do everything lightly.
Yes, feel lightly even though you’re feeling deeply.
Just lightly let things happen and lightly cope with them.

I was so preposterously serious in those days, such a humorless little prig.
Lightly, lightly – it’s the best advice ever given me.
When it comes to dying even. Nothing ponderous, or portentous, or emphatic.
No rhetoric, no tremolos,
no self conscious persona putting on its celebrated imitation of Christ or Little Nell.
And of course, no theology, no metaphysics.
Just the fact of dying and the fact of the clear light.

So throw away your baggage and go forward.
There are quicksands all about you, sucking at your feet,
trying to suck you down into fear and self-pity and despair.
That’s why you must walk so lightly.
Lightly my darling,
on tiptoes and no luggage,
not even a sponge bag,
completely unencumbered.”

Aldous Huxley, Island