Hello, Goodbye: 75 Rituals for Times of Loss, Celebration, and Change (Simon Element) by Day Schildkret
Winter Solstice
“I have faith in the night.” – Rainer Maria Rilke
Oh, those brief days and ever silent nights. The year finally has descended into the womb of winter solstice. Deep in the forest where I live, all that is alive has turned inward. The maples are bare and sleeping while the plump and bright red madrone berries hang like Christmas ornaments. Being so far north in the Northern Hemisphere, dark comes early and swallows us whole. It feels like I haven’t seen the sun in ages. But as this winter threshold arrives, a time of family and feasts, whether we know it or not, we mark the almost imperceptible return of that warm and wonderful light.
The winter solstice lies opposite to the summer solstice, and while summertime is the swelling of the external — the ripening of fruit, of travel plans, of visions, of love affairs — wintertime is the replenishing of the internal. It’s the time when the trees’ roots drink in the nourishment from the soil’s depth, from the unseen, before it rises up and out into the world again. Similarly, wintertime asks us to plug ourselves back into the deep, dark source of life.
This dark time of the year is an invitation to be with the dark. It invites us to go within and put down our compulsion to keep doing more, to traveling more, to accomplishing more, and instead to do less and rest. It’s not a time of self-striving but of deep reception, like being a baby gestating in the womb. To receive that deeply requires a willingness to surrender our need for achievement, for certainty, for control, and instead to renew our sense of awe and amazement at how much more mysterious life is than we thought it was.
And from that rich, still place of wonder germinates the seed of renewed light and life. The return of the sun and of longer days is gradual, like the faintest hint of the night’s sky turning. So many world traditions understand this time mythically as gods or goddesses being reborn, a similar journey to the light. The winter solstice has us gather around this baby light and welcome its arrival.
The Winter Bundle Ritual orients you to the questions that sit at the heart of this dark, mysterious season, both in your life and in the world: What needs rest? What needs replenishment? What needs time to germinate? And how can you practice cultivating a robust trust in the unknown? This is a moment to honor the internal, dark womb of winter by planting visions and dreams within that which may grow again with the return of light’s vitality.
The Winter Bundle Ritual
Intentions
May I enter gracefully into the wintertime. May the dark be a place of replenishment and renewal. May I celebrate the return of the light and the spark of life.
You Will Need
- A small cloth or sack
- Dried or fresh herbs, oils, or anything beautiful that smells good
- A tiny little piece of paper (and pen)
- A candlestick (and match)
When
Begin this ritual the night before the solstice. Ideally, you do this right before bed or even at midnight. This ritual honors the quiet and stillness of the dark. See if you can do the first part of this ritual without any electric lights on, and preferably without lighting a candle. Trust that you can do this.
Creating the Sack
Lay out the fabric and gently cover it with the dried herbs, evergreen needles, dried flower petals, or anything else you want to include. Think of it like a winter nest. Don’t tie it up just yet.
The Vision
On that piece of paper, write down one word that represents something that needs to be replenished within you, within your family or within the world. Whatever you choose, it should be something that needs to rest and be deeply cared for. Don’t worry about whether the writing is legible. If you can’t properly see the paper because it’s too dark, that is exactly as it needs to be. Place the paper on the dried herbs and flowers, gather the bundle together, and tie it up. Place this winter bundle under your pillow at night while you sleep.
Morning Time
If possible, rise before dawn, when it’s still dark out. This time of the day is an auspicious time to welcome solstice — right as the light returns.
Remove the winter bundle from under your pillow and hold it in your hands. Remember what you wrote. Breathe with the first glimmers of new light. Feel your heartbeat. Feel your chest gently rise and fall. Feel yourself surrounded by something more vast than you.
Before lighting the candle, consider saying something simple, like “I trust” or “I receive.” When you are ready, light the candle and welcome the return of the little light on this holy day.
Conclude
Place that winter bundle somewhere safe and protected during the wintertime. You can keep it under your pillow or on an altar in your home. Let it be a reminder of your capacity to trust in life’s renewal. On the spring equinox, open the bundle and let that sleeping vision out into the world.
Questions for Further Reflection
- What is my relationship to the dark?
- What does the winter solstice teach me about uncertainty and trust?
- Why is it important to let things (including you) rest?
- How can this ritual let me mark the dark beauty and return to the light?
For more on Day, please visit: morningaltars.com