Winter Solstice : Returning to Ourselves

The Winter Solstice arrives quietly, like a deep exhale.

It is the longest night of the year, a sacred pause point in the wheel of time, inviting us inward—into our homes, our bodies, our hearts, and our inner landscapes. This year, the Solstice was paired with a New Moon, making it especially potent. A dark moon on the darkest day. A rare and beautiful reminder that beginnings don’t always announce themselves with noise or urgency. Sometimes, they arrive through stillness.

Today, I was inspired to write this as snow fell steadily outside, a soup simmered gently on the stove, and candlelight flickered through an hour-and-a-half-long bath. It was one of those days that nourishes you on every level—body, spirit, and soul. Time slowed. Presence deepened. Family felt close. And it struck me how deeply this season asks us to care for ourselves and one another, not just physically, but emotionally, mentally, and spiritually as well.

In the Northern Hemisphere, winter is not a time of pushing forward. It is a time of hibernation. The bear does not question its need to rest. The earth does not rush. Seeds lie dormant beneath frozen ground, gathering energy for what will come later.

And so, too, are we meant to do the same.

Yet the modern world often tells a different story—one that begins on January 1st with pressure to reinvent ourselves, to set goals, make resolutions, and force growth before the soil is ready. This rhythm is not natural. This is not the season of action.

That time comes later.

Spring—Aries season, the Spring Equinox—is when life pushes through the surface. That is when we initiate, expand, and take bold steps forward. Winter is for rest, renewal, and receiving. For listening rather than doing. For being rather than becoming.

A Season of Reflection and Gratitude

The Solstice offers us a powerful opportunity to reflect on the year that has passed. To gently ask ourselves:

• What have I learned this year?

• What challenges shaped me?

• What moments softened me?

• How have I grown, even if it didn’t look the way I expected?

This reflection is not meant to be critical. It is meant to be loving and honest. This is your journey, and it deserves to be witnessed with compassion.

It can also be deeply grounding to look back three, four, or even five years and notice where you are now. You may find that the life you lived this year was once a quiet dream—something you hoped for, prayed for, or envisioned during a harder season. Let yourself feel gratitude for that. Let yourself receive it fully.

So many of us live either in the past or in the future—replaying what was or planning what might be. But this season gently reminds us that real life happens now. In the warmth of a meal. In shared silence. In a snowy afternoon. In breath, body, and presence.

Gratitude anchors us here. And presence is where healing lives.

An Invitation Instead of a Resolution

This year, I invite you to do something different.

Instead of making resolutions…Instead of trying to become someone new…Instead of pushing before you’re ready…

I challenge you to rest.

To receive.

To love.

To honour where you’ve been.

To trust where you may be going—without forcing it.

To tend to your inner world.

To dream without needing to act on those dreams just yet.

Sit with what nourishes you.

If your family is a house full of people, cherish them.

If your family is one person, honour that bond.

If your family is an animal companion, a quiet home, or simply yourself—let that be enough.

This season is about tending the hearth. About warmth, care, and connection. About honouring the cycles that have guided humanity far longer than any calendar year ever could.

The light will return.

For now, let yourself rest in the dark.

With gratitude and warmth,

Steph ✨