Winter solstice offers us the gift of stillness. Solstice literally means “sun stands still.” So as the winter solstice approaches, we too are invited to come into stillness.
This season invites us to honor the art of stillness, to cultivate patience, to trust the waiting period ripe with potential, yet to be revealed. To trust the in-between time when complete darkness and the birth of new light share space together.
This time of year has always been magical to me. I feel most at home within myself during the days of December. I love how everything in nature reflects the power of stillness. I love the moody skies, the pale sunrises, and sunsets, the subtle shifts of darkness into light, the invitation to pay attention, to settle, to get quiet, to come into stillness.
I love how this season invites me to trust the stillness and the accompanying anticipation of standing on a threshold. I love how this season invites me to look more closely at this “in-between seasons” time.
Since I was born on the threshold of autumn transitioning into winter, I have always found comfort in cultivating the art of stillness in my life. I have learned that when I allow the energy of a threshold time to guide me, I am able to connect to the sacredness found when we pause, breathe, and slow down with intention.
Standing on a threshold is a liminal time. A time of mysticism, ethereal beauty, and profound wisdom. A time of softening vision and light. Of magical silence. A time when the threads of seasons past are woven together and become a tapestry of the life we have lived.
This is all the more reason for us to be still and reflect. How can we tend to the remnants of this year still residing within us? What needs our tenderness? What requires our compassion? What is ready to be released and composted back to the earth? How can we honor our tremendous resilience in coming through this year? How can we create moments of rest that will act as a healing balm for our soul?
During this time of year, the owl shows up more frequently and unabashedly in the woods around my home. She makes herself known to me in both my waking time and in my dreams. She teaches me of her love of the dawn and dusk, the spaces in-between. Her call expresses an authentic, soul-filled, savoring of life.
The guardian of the night, the owl has the ability to see in the darkness, fly without making a sound, all while finding nourishment and sustenance. She reminds me of the importance of trusting the silence, embracing the necessity of darkness, and celebrating the beauty that comes when we inhabit the liminal spaces.
When I follow the rhythm of December’s energy, when I allow the stillness and silence to inspire me, I remember my soul’s voice. This voice leads me back to myself. It helps me to remember how to root down into my own journey with trust and acceptance and gratitude. It brings me into a place of tenderness that allows me to accept the invitation for my own healing and transformation. It shows me once again that everything continuously cycles through my life, season to season.
Everywhere we look, nature and the cosmos and the great Spirit of Love supports our healing. What seems barren and lifeless is truly vibrant and teeming with new life, even though we are not yet able to see, hear, or understand this.
In this winter season, we are being called to trust the stillness, trust the darkness, trust the transformation waiting to happen.
We are being called to awaken. To pay attention. To come into stillness. To let the cycles and rhythm of the earth, of the seasons, of this winter solstice to bring us home to our soul.
In the deepest part of winter, we can return and rest within the safety of our wildest belonging.
Here is a link to a guided meditation I recorded to honor this Winter Solstice.
I hope it holds you tenderly on this seasonal threshold and helps you to embrace the gift of stillness.
As always, peace in the journey,
Jane