Let yourself arrive.
There's nothing else you need to hold,
Nothing else you need to tend.
The earth is holding you now.
Allow the body to be fully supported by the floor,
By the mat,
By the chair,
By gravity itself.
Gently close your eyes or soften your gaze.
Letting the outer world fade.
With each exhale,
Imagine the day gently draining out of you.
Any expectations,
Any effort,
Any noise.
The body remembers how to rest.
You don't have to teach it.
Now invite the breath to become slightly slower,
Slightly deeper.
Inhale through the nose,
Exhale through the mouth,
Releasing.
Bringing awareness to your breath,
Not changing it,
Not guiding it,
Just noticing.
Breath arriving,
Breath leaving.
Bring awareness to the crown of your head.
Soften the scalp,
Soften the forehead.
Unclench the jaw.
Let the tongue rest.
Bring awareness to the throat,
The shoulders,
And hands.
Notice your chest rise and fall with your breath.
Soften the belly.
Feel the whole body resting,
Supported,
And safe.
The longest night is the winter solstice,
The longest night of the year.
The earth has turned inward.
Roots draw deep,
Seeds rest in darkness,
And you are alone.
You too are invited into rest.
Darkness here is not absence.
It is the cave,
The womb,
The deep forest at midnight.
It is night.
The sky is dark and vast,
And the air is cold,
Clean,
And still.
You are wrapped in warmth and protected.
Ahead of you is a quiet path,
Lit only by moonlight and starlight.
Begin to walk slowly,
And with each step,
The noise of the world fades.
You are entering the time between times,
The sacred pause,
The womb of winter.
You notice a presence,
Not threatening,
Not rushed,
But the spirit of winter appears in a form that feels right to you.
Perhaps they appear as an elder,
An animal,
A figure made of snow.
A simple light in the darkness.
There is no right way to see them.
They approach slowly,
With respect and with calm.
They see you.
They recognize you.
You are exactly where you are meant to be.
The spirit of winter offers you something.
It may be a word,
A symbol,
A feeling,
Or a gesture.
Receive it without questioning.
This is a gift for the coming cycle.
You are invited to ask one question.
Perhaps,
What am I meant to rest from?
What is ready to be released,
Or what quiet strength is growing within me?
Go ahead and ask your question to the spirit of winter.
Pause,
Listen,
And feel.
The answer may come as words,
Or sensations,
Or just a simple knowing.
Trust what arrives.
In the distance,
You notice a soft glow,
Not bright,
Not demanding,
Just a promise.
The spirit of winter gestures towards it.
This is the returning light.
It does not rush.
It grows slowly,
And as it approaches,
You feel warmth in your heart,
Your belly,
And your hands.
The light does not erase the dark.
It lives with it,
And you carry both now.
The spirit of winter bows and begins to fade,
But their gift remains with you.
Begin walking along the path.
The night remains quiet,
But you feel different now.
You are carrying something new,
Even if you cannot name it yet.
Feel your body again,
The breath,
The earth beneath you,
And the space around you.
You are connected,
And you belong.
Somewhere within your body,
A small warmth begins to glow.
It may be subtle,
An ember rather than a flame.
Perhaps it lives in the belly.
The heart,
Or deep in the pelvis.
This is the sun reborn,
The spark that never fully leaves.
With each inhale,
Feel this ember gently brighten.
With each exhale,
Feel it stabilize.
The light does not rush.
It grows at its own sacred pace.
Let the light and the darkness coexist within you.
Rest and readiness,
Stillness and becoming.
Feel the physical body again,
The weight of your limbs,
The rhythm of your breath,
And the earth beneath you.
When you are ready,
Invite gentle movement.
Wiggling fingers and toes,
Rolling the shoulders,
Stretching if it feels good.
May you rest deeply in the wisdom of the dark.
May you trust what is quietly forming within you.
May the returning light warm you gently,
Not all at once,
But exactly as you are ready.
May the earth continue to hold you.
May your roots remain strong.
May your inner flame guide you home.
The night has turned,
The light returns,
And so do you.
