Winter Solstice: The Slow Return of the Light
Hi dear one,
the winter solstice is darkest day of the year, and for a long time I didn’t know what to do with that.
Darkness isn’t something we’re taught to sit with, we’re encouraged to keep going, stay busy or stay stimulated. This day used to carry a very different meaning. It was a time when stillness was respected, and doing less was seen as wise, because ultimately nothing grows without deep rest.
The Turning Point
The winter solstice is the shortest day and the longest night. It marks a subtle shift, a quiet turning point of the year. Nothing changes suddenly, but everything begins to change. From this moment forward, the light is slowly returning. This year the winter solstice occurs on December 21 at 16:03 CET.
Ancient cultures understood this moment as the “womb of the year.” A place of darkness, containment, and potential. Nothing was expected to bloom here. This was a time for the earth and the body to be held in stillness, gathering strength in ways that couldn’t be measured or rushed.
Even some of our modern traditions carry traces of this ancient understanding. Pre-Christian celebrations marking the solstice, such as Saturnalia in Rome, Yule in the Germanic and Norse regions, and other local winter festivals, honoured the return of the sun and the promise of longer days to come. These festivals were deeply symbolic: feasts, fires, and rituals were all ways to mark the turning of the year, the rebirth of light, and the continuation of life’s cycles.
Over time, these celebrations were absorbed into what we now celebrate as Christmas. Today’s holiday isn’t meant to replace those ancient traditions, rather, it continues them in a new form. The story of Jesus’ birth became the ultimate symbol of celebrating light emerging from darkness. Even though we don’t know the exact historical moment of his birth, it makes sense that this time of year, the deepest darkness, was chosen for such a celebration. The symbolism is clear: from the longest night, light is born, bringing hope and the promise that even the darkest periods are fertile with potential that will emerge slowly, unseen at first, but inevitable.
What We’ve Forgotten
Nothing in nature grows without a period of deep rest. Seeds don’t sprout in constant light or activity, they need darkness and time beneath the soil. Trees shed their leaves not because something has gone wrong, but because conserving energy is essential for survival.
The land lay quiet so it could restore its nutrients. Animals hibernated or moved less. Humans followed the same logic, working fewer hours, sleeping longer, and turning attention away from outward productivity. Winter was not a failure of life, but a necessary phase of it.
Today, we try to grow without this phase entirely. We expect the body, the nervous system, and even our creativity to stay “on” all year long. But without periods of true rest, nothing integrates. The body can’t repair. The mind can’t settle. The nervous system never fully discharges what it’s been holding.
Deep rest isn’t laziness or stagnation, but biological preparation. It’s what allows strength, clarity, and vitality to return later. When we skip it, we don’t actually gain more time or output; we just accumulate exhaustion. Winter, and the winter solstice in particular, reminds us that stepping back is not a loss, it’s what makes future growth possible at all.
A Simple Way to Honour the Solstice in the Middle of Real Life
Even though the solstice is just four days before Christmas and our schedules are overflowing with finishing work tasks, prepping the house, shopping for gifts, making decorations, cooking meals, the winter solstice is an opportunity to pause amidst the chaos. Even a few minutes can make a difference. Take a short walk outside and notice the quiet of the season, cook and eat a nourishing meal slowly, journal your reflections on the year, or do gentle breathwork to calm your nervous system. If you’re really overwhelmed, try out practices like Yoga Nidra or Non-Sleep Deep Rest protocols. These small acts don’t have to replace your responsibilities; they’re moments to restore your energy, honour the season, and reconnect with yourself before the year turns again.
A Simple Winter Solstice Rest Practice (10 - 15 minutes)
You don’t need anything special for this practice. No mat, no candle, no recording. Just a few quiet minutes and a willingness to slow down.
Find a comfortable position, lying down if that feels good, or seated with your back supported. Let your body be warm. If you need a blanket, take one. If your eyes want to stay open, that’s okay. There’s nothing to achieve here.
Start by bringing your attention to your breath. Don’t change it yet. Just notice it. Notice where you feel it most, maybe in your chest, your belly, or your nose.
Now gently lengthen your exhales. Inhale through the nose for a count of four, and exhale slowly through the nose for a count of six. If counting feels stressful, simply focus on making the exhale a little longer than the inhale. This signals safety to your nervous system.
After a few rounds, let go of counting and allow the breath to settle into its own rhythm.
Then bring your awareness to your body. Feel where it’s supported — the floor beneath you, the chair holding you, the weight of your body being fully carried. You don’t need to relax anything intentionally. Just notice what’s already resting.
If thoughts come up, let them pass without engaging. Imagine you’re watching them from a distance. There’s no need to solve anything right now.
Stay here for a few minutes, breathing gently, doing nothing. This is not sleep, but it’s not effort either. It’s a space in between where the body can restore and the mind can soften.
When you’re ready, slowly deepen your breath again and gently return to your day.
This practice may seem simple, but it reflects the deeper wisdom of the season: slowing down, allowing, and trusting that rest itself is productive.
The winter solstice doesn’t ask us to do more, become better, or set intentions for the year ahead. It simply invites us to be with what is. To respect the quiet, the darkness, and the natural slowing that this season brings.
In a world that rarely gives us permission to rest, choosing stillness becomes an act of wisdom. When we honour the darkest day, we’re not giving up on the light, we’re trusting that it knows how to return on its own time.
May this solstice remind you that nothing is lost in the pause, and that even in the deepest dark, something is quietly taking shape.
With light and love,
Ema