There’s so much celebration happening during winter solstice and the winter holidays… and here I am on the couch with a book.
Don’t get me wrong. I love the winter holidays. I love the concept of the darkest night and the sun being reborn. Renewal is basically in my blood, with my natal pluto in the first house. And I’m not bah humbuging. I’m merely celebrating the holidays in my own way.
There’s something about this time of year that makes me want to be less active, to turn down invitations in favor of quietude on the sofa, a warm puffy blanket, a cup of hot tea sending steaming curls of vapor into the air, and a cat purring at my heels. If you’re anything like me, rest assured you’re not messed up. You’re not alone.
It seems like the dawning of winter is the time of the year that I turn into even more of a Wednesday Addams. My wardrobe becomes more black and gray, and I have a solemn kind of contentment. I retreat into my bedroom and devour books. I make food and really, really enjoy it.
So I stay home more often. I feel the empty space in my house, and I love it. I enrich my energy by keeping it to myself and conserving it. My spirit stretches out into the ethers and explores the fringes.
I’m not the only one taking a break right now. Nature is, too. Little seeds are resting in their pods, sensing tiny things about the outside world, waiting for the impetus to bloom. Maybe some of us have that cycle too. Maybe we’re in that deep space, waiting for the right conditions to grow.
The winter solstice time is a very psychic time for me. Whenever I go out, I risk picking up all sorts of stress from other people. Over the years, I’ve learned it’s okay to not socialize. It’s okay to cocoon and respect that inner urge to nest.
I also can’t help but think about how midwinter is the opposite of midsummer – the time of my favorite pagan gathering. It feels like the opposite of that festival in so many ways. I feel cold to my bones. I love being alone even more.
It took me a long time to realize it’s okay to feel something other than cheer this time of the year. I can now reject the expectations of others to be jolly and make merry – faking happiness is one of my cardinal no-nos.
On the winter solstice, I’ll perform my solitary ritual. I’ll light a big white candle when the sun is reborn. I’ll write down all of the things I want to leave behind, and one by one, I’ll burn them in the bright flames of the reborn sun. When I feel them leave my heart, — when I feel cleansed and empty, I’ll meditate on the possibilities of a new year, and dream of grand new things to come.
I’ve learned to enjoy my little “drop into the void.” The stillness within the hubub is like a walking meditation, a deepening spiral, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Happy solstice, and blessed be.