Celebrating Winter Solstice
A reflection on the triumph of light over darkness
Winter solstice —it’s recognized as the first day of winter, the longest night of the year when many cultures celebrate the sun’s impending triumph over the darkness.
On Saturday, December 21st, my husband and I will participate in this celebration as our official kick-off to the holiday season.
Winter solstice is a time for quiet contemplation, for reverence. It is thought to hold powerful energy for regeneration, renewal, and self-reflection.
For us, it’s a time to take a breath, to check ourselves before the joyful chaos of the coming days, and the shift to the new year.
This year, as we prepare to enter a brand new decade, I find it especially important.
In Pagan times, the winter solstice was called Yule and was a celebration of the Goddess (Moon) energy. In ancient Rome, the winter solstice was celebrated at the Feast of Saturnalia, which honored Saturn, the god of agriculture. After Constantine converted to Christianity, many of the customs of Saturnalia (such as the giving of gifts) became Christmas traditions still observed today.
Today, the winter solstice is an opportunity to connect with the natural world, to attune ourselves to the seasons. It represents the death and rebirth of the sun because, after this, the days begin to lengthen and the nights to shorten. Darkness transforms into light.
According to Pagan author T. Thorn Coyle, we need to see that light.
“We need to feel that hope remains in the world, even in the face of young children shot dead in a classroom or in a village after drone strikes, even in the face of rising waters and devastated forests. The sun is our symbol of hope. Day and night dance together in the cosmos, just as beauty and fear dance among us every day.” — T Thorn Coyle via Huffpost
Lighting the longest night with fire reminds us that even in the darkness, there is beauty and there is hope.
We’ll celebrate with the lighting of candles throughout the house, with pine branches and holly, with a fire pit in our back yard, since the weather in Northeast Ohio has decided to cooperate this year.
We’ll mentally prepare for the rest of the holiday season, acknowledging gratitude for everything we have. This is a symbolic nod to past times when starvation was common in the first months of winter. It’s not something my husband and I have to worry about today, even when money is tight, and it’s important to recognize that.
I’ll make a pot of soup earlier in the day, hearty, warm and nourishing. We could have a little wine, or maybe not, because it isn’t the most important part of our celebration. There will be plenty of time for that in the coming days.
The evening’s music will be solemn and peaceful, conducive to contemplation. Electronic devices will not be allowed (aside from the stereo that will play our music), because cell phones and other gadgets are detrimental to achieving a state of serenity. Even the electric lighting, except what’s required for safety (and so we don’t trip over the cats), will be turned off.
Along with practicing gratitude and meditation, I’ll be thinking about the upcoming decade. What do I want to accomplish, to achieve? (I will also be reminding myself that my definition of those words has changed significantly over the past few years.)
How do I want to frame my existence? Who do I want to be? How do I choose to represent my best self? Are my actions a reflection of that?
What makes me truly happy, and how can I bring more of that into my life? What makes my loved ones happy, and how can I bring more of that into their lives?
Will I strive to get out of my own head a bit this year, and really hear the people around me? I’m learning so much, but the application of the lessons is still a bit sporadic. I know I can do better, listen better, connect more.
Can I find a way to contribute to my community, to society, without jeopardizing my own sanity?
In today’s fast-paced world, I crave these quiet moments, and sometimes I need a structure, an excuse, a holiday to tell me it’s ok to take them.
This solstice, I invite you to join me in a moment or two of calm and tranquility. Still your mind. Hear your heart. And know that the light will come again.
Happy Solstice, and may your holidays be filled with peace, joy, and love.
“Solstices — summer or winter — are a chance to still ourselves inside, to behold the glory of the cosmos, and to take a breath with the Sacred. Solstice also gives us the opportunity to ask whether or not we are still on the correct course. We need to ask that in these times, both personally and collectively.” — T. Thorn Coyle, via Huffpost
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Kathryn Dillon is a 40-something Cleveland Heights, Ohio-based author, rekindling her passion for writing after a 20-year hiatus. She resides with her husband and their three very spoiled cats in a ridiculously large 1910-built home that they are slowly attempting to renovate. She is a product manager by day and holds an MBA from Roosevelt University and a BS in Magazine Journalism from Ohio University. She believes life should be lived to the fullest, and particularly loves baseball games, craft beer, rock concerts, art museums, and the symphony, not necessarily in that order.