Happy Solstice!
The solstice arrives as if it were a quiet secret shared between the earth and the sky, unadorned by celebration, yet profound in its presence. In a world that craves noise, where everything is hastening toward its next moment, the solstice asks us to pause, to remember that there is great beauty in simplicity. It does not announce its arrival with trumpets or fireworks, nor does it rush in with haste or urgency. Instead, it arrives like a soft breath in the stillness of night, settling gently over the land, inviting us to listen to the deeper rhythms that pulse beneath the surface of our lives.
In this gentle pause, we feel something ancient and sacred stirring within us. The darkness that has long held us in its quiet embrace begins to shift, imperceptibly at first, and yet with a power that is beyond the reach of our understanding. The very air seems to change its texture, as though it is alive with anticipation, ready to welcome the return of the light. It is a shift that is not hurried or forced, but one that arrives in its own time, honoring the natural cadence of the world. In this moment, the light and dark are not enemies, but companions in a dance that has been unfolding since time began. And in their meeting, we are reminded of the delicate balance that holds all things in their place—each part of the whole contributing its own unique essence to the eternal story.
There is a magic in the solstice that invites us to reflect on the quiet transformations that are taking place within us, even when we are unaware of them. It is a moment to rest in the tender embrace of change, to honor the slow, steady unfolding of time, and to recognize that every shift—no matter how small—is part of a greater movement. Just as the light does not rush to reclaim the sky, so too must we learn to honor the quiet moments of our own lives. The solstice, in its quiet grace, reminds us that we need not always be in a hurry to move forward, for there is deep wisdom in allowing things to unfold at their own pace.
The fires we light at this time of year seem to hold a different kind of warmth. It is not merely the heat that fills the room, but a deeper kind of fire—a fire that stirs something within us, awakening the dormant places in our hearts and minds. In the flickering light of the flame, we catch glimpses of our own vulnerability, our own longing, our own deep connection to the cycles of nature. The flame seems to carry the weight of generations, a living reminder that we are part of something much larger than ourselves, something that stretches back to the beginning of time and forward to the future yet to unfold.
And as we sit in the presence of this light, we are also reminded of the snow that falls in such quiet beauty. There is something about the snow that carries with it an otherworldly grace, as though it is the earth’s way of holding its breath, waiting for the return of the sun. The snow glistens in the stillness, as though the very ground itself is cloaked in a sacred reverence for what is to come. It is in these moments of quiet waiting that we can begin to feel the presence of what is beyond us—the eternal rhythm of life, death, and rebirth. We are reminded that even in the darkest times, there is always the promise of light, waiting patiently beneath the surface of our lives, ready to emerge when the time is right.
In the solstice, there is a profound invitation to rest in the space between what has been and what is to come. It is a time to pause, to allow ourselves to be held in the stillness, and to trust that the changes taking place within us, though small and incremental, are powerful in their own right. We do not need to see the full picture in order to know that we are part of something much larger than ourselves. The solstice calls us to trust in the process of becoming, to trust that every small step we take is part of a larger unfolding, a greater movement toward wholeness and light.
And so, we rest in this transition, allowing the quiet power of the solstice to wash over us. May we find joy in the smallest of shifts, knowing that each moment carries with it the potential for renewal. May we allow ourselves to embrace the unknown, to trust that even in the darkness, there is light waiting to be born. For the solstice is not just a turning of the earth, but a turning within ourselves, a reminder that we too are always in the process of becoming.
As the light begins its slow return, let us honor the darkness for what it has taught us. Let us find peace in the quiet moments, knowing that they hold the seeds of the light that will come. May we find delight in the simplicity of this turning, and may we embrace it with open hearts, trusting that what is to come will always be worth the wait. For in the depths of winter, there is the promise of spring, and in the quiet of the solstice, there is the birth of a new year—filled with endless possibilities and the quiet beauty of all that is yet to unfold.
I love You,
Alma
