Winter Solstice 2024

In the Northern Hemisphere where I live, winter clamps down cold and dark. Wet, too, now that I'm in western Washington, and if it isn't actually raining it's cloudy or overcast. But then, that last condition is pretty common from October to June, according to a very detailed description of Olympia's weather.

Winter here is more like a long, gray slog than a magical season. It isn't like what we used to experience in Spokane with icicles hanging from the eaves, snow deep enough to build snow caves and enough on the ground to have a good snowball tussle when our kids were younger. 

And yet, and yet.... We have the turn of the seasons. We have the transition from the heat of summer to autumn's cool temperatures and blazing leaves. We have the closing down, the retreat into waiting and stewarding our energies, that comes when the light grows shorter and the darkness longer, longer, until we reach the longest night. The earth has tilted away from Sol, which rides low in the sky.

My ancestry is primarily from England and northwestern Europe, followed by Scotland, Germanic Europe, Wales, Denmark, and a bit of Ireland. In other words, my ancestors lived even farther north than my current latitude. My genes have survived through many, many long, dark winters. I'm good at this.

This is a quiet season, but not a dead one. As poet M.K. Creel writes in "Before the Longest Night" we can "Take inventory of what is becoming—". Seeds lie underground awaiting the signals of temperature and light to awaken, insects go dormant, trees deepen their root systems because they're not expending energy on leaves, blossoms, fruits and nuts. We human animals can learn from this and take this time to rest and restore.

Taking care of ourselves, taking care of others, matters more now than ever. The winter solstice can serve as a reminder to reflect on time passing, on our lives we live moment by moment, day by day, on tending our interior as well as our exterior selves. It can serve as our personal New Year's Eve, the pause between one season and the next.

How might you care for your body today? You might feed it lovingly with good food. You might move it around, gently or vigorously, indoors in the warmth or outside in the cold. How about a walk or a bike ride? Years ago when we lived in snowy Spokane I wrote A Solstice Post: Gifts I Give Myself by Riding in the Winter. Perhaps this is the day you commit or recommit to trying a practice like yoga. You might give the body you inhabit every day a nice, long nap or a hot bath.

For your brain or your heart, maybe you'd like poetry about the winter solstice that I collected a couple of years ago.

How about your senses? Last year for the winter solstice I compiled a selection of ways you can experience the winter solstice through your senses (and more poems). I'll add the Winter Solstice playlist on Spotify from the All We Can Save Project.

For your spirit, I offer these readings, excerpted here with a link to the complete piece:

"Winter Solstice"

Ray McNeice

Late December grinds on down.

The sky stops, slate on slate,

scatters a cold light of snow

across a field of brittle weeds.

Interview with Ross Gay and reflections from Carrie Newcomer and Parker Palmer on The Growing Edge newsletter and podcast.

"Thank You"
Ross Gay

If you find yourself half naked

and barefoot in the frosty grass, hearing,

again, the earth's great, sonorous moan that says

you are the air of the now and gone, that says

all you love will turn to dust,

and will meet you there, do not

raise your fist. 

"On the Winter Solstice"
Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer

Let’s reach toward each other

with gazes gentle

as midwinter sun—

with a seeing so generous

we can’t help but turn

toward the other

to let ourselves be seen.

"Winter Solstice"

Hilda Morely

It is from

the moon this cold travels

It is

the light of the moon that causes

this night reflecting distance in its own

light so coldly

(from one side of

the earth to the other)

A brief excerpt from a long and wonderful essay, "Burn Something Today"

Nina McLaughlin

"What now? Now it’s now it’s now it’s now and we are burning. Light the fire. We move through flames. We clutch hope in our palm like a tiny burning globe of snow. It’s painful, the flame of the snow of the hope that you will be okay and I will be okay and we will be okay, we will be here to see another season, to see, second by second, the light return to the world."

A beautiful gentle blessing from William Ayot on Philip Carr-Gomm's site, reproduced here in its entirety:

May the stars in their circling comfort and guide you.
May the great oak give you strength in troubled times.
May your hurts be healed and your soul be deepened
And in turning towards home, may you know you belong.

Winter Solstice Readings and More

I wrote a post for winter solstice 2022 with a collection of poems, quotations, and other things to read on the shortest night of the year, also known as Yule (possibly from the Old Norse word jõl, which was their solstice festival). A year later, here we are again with darkness and light changing their balance. Given that the movements of sun, moon and earth have been observed and experienced by humans since before recorded history it's quite possible that the solstice celebrations are the oldest ritual observances in the world.

This year I'm going beyond readings to engage some other senses, although in doing some of the explorations for this post I learned one of the Persian winter solstice traditions is to read poetry and I'm not leaving it out. 

The Persian phrase "shab-e yald" means "night of birth." One of the Persian traditions  for shab-e yald involves "Fal e Hafez." In that practice a person opens a copy of the Diwan e Hafez, the book of poetry by Hafez, and reads the last verse of whatever poem is on that page. This is received as a prediction of their destiny for the coming year. What might you find looking into one of your favorite books, whether or not it's poetry, if you practiced a bit of bibliomancy?

Sound: This year I give you a soundtrack to go with the readings: the album A Winter's Solstice by Windham Hill that I first listened to years ago. They have a whole series so you can keep listening with A Winter's Solstice II and beyond.

Taste: To take your Yule to the next level you may want to bake a yule log cake, also known as a Bûche De Noël in French. I tried to years ago and didn't make it across the line with the meringue mushroom decorations and all the rest, but maybe someday.

• Recipe for Bûche De Noël (Yule Log) from Sally's Baking Addiction
• Vegan Chocolate Yule Log from Crumbs & Caramel

Touch: From an article on the winter solstice in the Irish tradition I learned the triskelion spiral is associated with some of the ancient standing stones and tombs that align with the sun's position on solstice, although they pre-date the arrival of the Celts by about 2,500 years. Early in the pandemic I found WayStones, a shop that makes labyrinth balls and flat pieces, both of which can be traced with your finger. The flat piece I bought back then got broken and I've been meaning to replace it; I'll watch for when she has one of her triskelion pieces in colors I want. 

Balance: Why include "balance" on a list organized around the senses? Your senses provide input telling you where and how you are in the world. Your sense of balance has multiple sources in the body; it's an important and often overlooked form of input. However, it's not overlooked if you have vertigo attacks, which I do occasionally, or long-term vertigo. (Recommended reading: Balance: In Search of the Lost Sense, by Scott McCredie.)

Walking a labyrinth is a form of touch, with your feet on the ground, as well as an exercise in balance as you spiral inward and out again. Read Antonia Malchik's beautiful piece, "The Gravity of a Labyrinth," and find labyrinths near you with this labyrinth locator.

Sight: Some of the imagery associated with druidic beliefs involve the Holly King (symbolized by a wren and ruling from Midsummer to Midwinter) being defeated by the Oak King (symbolized by a robin and ruling from Midwinter to Midsummer). Mistletoe is also associated with this day since it is green through the winter, symbolizing the continuation of life. This explains some of those "Christmas" card designs with holly, mistletoe, and birds.

And now for some poetry—as always, I'm providing a link to the full poem and providing an excerpt here.

Poetry

"Winter Solstice" by Ray McNiece

Late December grinds on down.

The sky stops, slate on slate,

scatters a cold light of snow

across a field of brittle weeds.

"Yule Winter Prayer" by Patti Wiginton

From the reaches of the north,

A place of cold beauty,

Comes to us the first winter storm.

"Winter Solstice" by Hilda Morley

A cold night crosses
our path
                  The world appears
very large, very
round now       extending
far as the moon does

"At Winter Solstice" by Dolores Stewart Riccio

Now we go comforted
in dreams and ceremonies,
flaming our star-speck candles,
raising our voices against that other music,
drowning out the forever
at night’s heart.

"Winter Solstice Chant" by Annie Finch (this is the entire poem)

Vines, leaves, roots of darkness, growing,
now you are uncurled and cover our eyes
with the edge of winter sky
leaning over us in icy stars.
Vines, leaves, roots of darkness, growing,
come with your seasons, your fullness, your end.

"Winter Solstice 2019" by Diane Di Prima

The fact is: the Light will increase
It always does
Whether we think it should
or not. No matter how determined
we are to be gloomy.

"Solstice" by Barbara Crooker

And this is the shortest day of the year.
Still, in almost every window,
a single candle burns,
there are tiny white lights
on evergreens and pines,
and the darkness is not complete.

"A Winter Solstice Prayer" by Edward Hays

May we find hope in the lights we have kindled on this sacred night,
hope in one another and in all who form the web-work of peace and justice
that spans the world.

"Shab-e Yalda" by Passim

A shadow casts across a closing sky
where crowds will meet to bid the night good-bye.
With hushed excitement, waiting now respite;
in silence but for night hawks eerie cry.

Susan Cooper was one of my favorite authors long, long ago with her series The Dark Is Rising. She also wrote a children's book, The Shortest Day (*affiliate link), with her poem illustrated by Carson Ellis.

"The Shortest Day" by Susan Cooper

And so the Shortest Day came and the year died
And everywhere down the centuries of the snow-white world
Came people singing, dancing,
To drive the dark away.

"Winter's Sweet, Sweet Song" by Damh the Bard

And my honouring of a year nearly gone,
In harmony with the Sun,
And Winter’s sweet, sweet song.

In closing, a poem that isn't about the solstice specifically, but seems to fit the longest night of the year. The entire poem is presented here, with a link to the source where I read it.

"What to Do in the Darkness" by Marilyn McEntire

Go slowly
Consent to it
But don't wallow in it
Know it as a place of germination
And growth
Remember the light
Take an outstretched hand if you find one
Exercise unused senses
Find the path by walking it
Practice trust
Watch for dawn

*I 100% believe you should support your local bookstore and library. I include links to Bookshop.org in case those aren't available to you, and to introduce you to a way you can order online while still benefitting a local bookseller. If I ever receive any commission on book sales through these links, proceeds will be donated to organizations supporting social justice and safer streets for people walking, rolling, and riding.