Honouring the Winter Solstice as a Sacred Reset
As the longest night of the year approaches, something ancient stirs within us. The Winter Solstice isn’t just a date on the calendar—it’s an energetic threshold. A moment suspended between darkness and light. A sacred pause.
For me, this time has always been deeply personal. I celebrate it each year with rituals, reflection, and a conscious slowing down. It’s my favourite season for inner work, and this year, I wanted to bring that into the podcast and share it with you too.
I’m not here to talk about the textbook definitions or Wiccan lore. I’m here to talk about what it feels like. Because the Winter Solstice is where we’re invited to stop. To just be.
In a world obsessed with doing, stillness can feel awkward or even wasteful. But that discomfort? That’s where your wisdom is hiding. When we stop filling the silence, we start to hear ourselves again. The solstice helps reframe stillness as a sacred pause—one we need in order to soften, reconnect, and return to ourselves.
Nature shows us how. Trees shed their leaves. Animals hibernate. The sun itself retreats. The lesson? You’re allowed to pull back. You’re allowed to turn inward. And you’re allowed to say no to what doesn’t align. The solstice is a mirror for your boundaries.
This isn’t about shrinking. It’s about softening. There’s a powerful difference. Softening honours your values. Shrinking avoids conflict. One is rooted in truth. The other in fear. That distinction is my personal solstice work this year.
Here are a few of the journaling prompts I’ve been sitting with:
What needs to be laid to rest before I can move forward?
Where am I being called to retreat, restore, or remember?
What part of me is seeking light but still stuck in shadow?
These questions help unearth the parts of ourselves we’ve outgrown, the masks we wear, and the inner nudges we’ve ignored.
And no, you don’t need to be witchy to honour the solstice. For me, it’s about grounded, realistic rituals. Like lighting a candle. Cleaning my photo roll. Unfollowing people who no longer feel aligned. Writing a letter to what I’m ready to let go of and then burning it. Or simply having a silent, intentional dinner to mark the shift.
These acts aren’t grand gestures. They’re reverent ones. And they work.
The Winter Solstice reminds us that we don’t have to wait for January 1st to begin again. Change can happen quietly. Softly. Tenderly. It doesn’t need to be Instagrammable to be valid.
If you’re feeling disconnected or unsure right now—you’re not broken. You’re in the dark cocoon of becoming. Trust the pause. Honour the cycle. And let the stillness do its sacred work.