We are less than a week away from the Winter Solstice in the Northern Hemisphere, which means we are well within the Solstice energy of stillness, reflection & dreaming.
(Solstice actually means “sun-stop” and there is a window of about 10 days in which the sun seems to “stop” before the orientation shifts and the days grow longer again – we are in that liminal time now.)
Right now, in the deepest dark of the year, something essential is happening beneath the surface of things.
While the world around us accelerates into holiday brightness and year-end urgency, the Earth herself is resting – dreaming – germinating.
Do you believe me when I say that the Earth dreams?
If she does, what do you suppose she might be dreaming of?
My guess is that she might dream of healing, and that she is also probably grieving.
After all, these times have not been easy for her, and much has been lost, or taken.
Imagine, tens of thousands of your children going extinct every single year, while some of the children you love the most are causing this destruction. This is what it is to be the Earth Mother at this time.
If we can slow down enough to meet her in this depth of darkness & grief, there is medicine available for us as humans, as dreamers, as her allies in healing.
“Spirit Bear” by Autumn Skye Morrison
We are made of earth – literally – our bodies are made up of elements that are found exclusively on this beautiful planet. Like her, we are mostly made up of water and space, carbon, electrical currents and the music of our bones and tissues singing in harmony with one another.
So what if our dreams are her dreams too? What if our dreaming along with her is actually ESSENTIAL for her survival – and ours?
And yet right here, amidst this deepest of calls in a time where our dreaming may be more necessary than ever before, we are met with societal pressure to be bright, busy & celebratory.
And it feels like pressure because it runs directly counter to the Earth’s invitation to slow down, turn inward, and rest.
For those of us holding grief – whether our own or the tending of others’ – this collision can be excruciating.
Grievers are often expected to “participate” in holiday cheer, to have moved through their loss on a timeline that makes others comfortable, to be “better” by now.
Or they are simply left alone, and facing the darkness of grief alone isn’t really something anyone should ever have to do.
Grief tenders face their own version of this – the pressure to keep showing up, to have energy for year-end everything, to push through when what we actually need is to winter alongside our communities, and our own tender hearts.
The cost of resisting the natural cycle of deep rest, reflection & dreaming is real.
Burnout. Resentment. A kind of spiritual exhaustion that no amount of vacation can touch. And this year, in this moment of crisis on the Earth, maybe we would even miss something that there will never be another chance for.
But what if we didn’t resist?
“Mycelium Dreaming” by Autumn Skye Morrison
The Winter Solstice sits at North on the medicine wheel of the year. North is the place of wisdom, of direction, of finding our true compass bearings – but not in the way our culture teaches us to set goals and make plans.
The clarity that comes at solstice doesn’t arrive through striving or strategizing. It emerges from deep listening. From letting the darkness do what only darkness can do.
Seeds cannot germinate in light. They need the dark, enclosed space of earth to crack open and begin their transformation.
So the darkness is, in some aspect, a form of protection for the tenderest of things.
Our grief and our deepest longings are the same. They need this season of rest and reflection – and protection – to clarify what is truly ours to carry forward and what we are finally ready to release.
Our elder, Jane Spielman, has been asking our community to also consider that in this current cycle, we are in the last phase of the Chinese year of the Snake – and so this is all about a deep hibernation and a shedding of skins we no longer need.
Interesting fact: When snakes shed, they lose their vision temporarily. The skin over their eyes clouds as it prepares to release.
They cannot see clearly while they are transforming.
And so to, we may feel as though we are moving through a kind of sacred fog.
There is a necessary obscuring that is taking place because we need to sometimes forget who we are and what we are doing here.
This is a part of the journey of the Soul.
It’s not a problem to solve. It’s part of the medicine.
Forget. Listen. Dream. Regenerate. Become – slowly.
One of my favorite songs says:
“Be easy – take your time – you’re coming home to yourself.”
We are all coming home to ourselves now. And to the Earth. And to each other.
Be easy. Take your time.
We are meant to move through this threshold without knowing exactly where we’re headed.
We are meant to let go OF what no longer serves AND let go INTO what we cannot yet see the shape of.
It isn’t our vision that is guiding us at this time, but our deepest longing.
It sounds counterintuitive, but while grief is a destructive force, it is also generative when we tend it well.
The letting go is a part of the becoming.
“Ancient Ones” by Autumn Skye Morrison
So….
As we move through this threshold, what are you carrying that no longer serves you?
I’m guessing your answers might go way beyond this list – these are just a few ideas.
For grievers, maybe:
- The timeline others have placed on your healing
- The pressure to “be okay” for the sake of those around you
- Grief that isn’t yours to carry (inherited, absorbed, or imposed)
- The belief that you should be “over it” by now
- Old stories about what your life was supposed to look like
For grief tenders, this might be:
- Burnout patterns that feel inevitable but aren’t
- The colonial conditioning that says rest must be earned
- Professional expectations that ignore your own need to grieve & tend your own heart
- The weight of carrying too much for too many
- The pressure to have all the answers, to fix, to make it better faster
And for all of us:
- The relentless push to produce & accomplish, even in winter
- The fear of not knowing what comes next
- The exhaustion of trying to see clearly through the sacred fog
Finding North is about deep listening…
Setting your compass at solstice isn’t about having a big, clear vision of where you’re going or what you want to DO.
It’s about reflection & clarifying your intention. Making space for what you are truly, deeply longing for – even if you can’t name it yet. Especially if you can’t name it yet.
The Horse energy of the coming Chinese year is powerful, swift, free. But we cannot gallop into that energy carrying everything we’ve accumulated through the year of the Snake.
The shedding must happen first.
The sacred fog must be honoured.
The deep rest must be taken.
“Untethered” by Autumn Skye Morrison
What are you longing for that you haven’t had permission to name?
What wants to emerge if you make enough space?
Could you just let yourself rest?
What becomes possible when you stop resisting the darkness and let go into it like a womb that can hold you?
Grá mór,
Josea