Winter Solstice Ritual

On the darkest night of the year, December 21st, I always light a candle and say a wish. The candle flame penetrates the darkness that lingers for far too long. It clings to my skin like oil and sticks like pine sap.

The wish doesn’t have to be complex. It can be a simple, little wish. It is not on a star but on fire. The element that separates humans from creatures. The element that can destroy or save us from the depths of winter cold. The flame carries the wish with the smoke and curls into the air only to disappear. I watch as the smoke flips away.

This ritual fills a small moment within the darkness. The following hours bring the light. Slowly but steadily. For five minutes every day, we gain back sunlight. The light reminds me that seasons do, in fact, change. Acknowledging the shift in this ritual is a way to tell myself to be patient. The darkness will not stay for much longer, although for now, it feels forever.

The winter solstice is a time for renewal. I come out of hibernation. I get excited about the new year to come and what that would become. It is a time for reflection on what I want to change about my life or myself. It is a time to look back and forward, to see both past and future. The days before New Year’s Eve always feel like a state of limbo, where nothing drastic happens. We are all tired from the past year and there is nothing left to accomplish.

I reflect on the accomplishments that I made during the year. The big ones and the small ones, for both are important to recognize. Celebrating the little wins can lead to bigger things. It is important to take small steps first. A flower cannot grow without being a seed. It is all truly that simple. I look back on my small goals that turned into larger ones to see what worked and what did not. The solstice limbo stasis gives me time to evaluate, reflect, and then make revised plans for changing my goals in the coming new year.

December 21st is a day to make goals and make sure I have plans to get them done. Time warps into a slow current and swishes into stasis, until January of the new year filters through. It is a day to be the most present I have been all year round and to watch the red flame flicker quietly.

The tiny candle reminds me how small I am within the world and what lies beyond. The flame is a pinprick, just as I am a pinprick in the grand scheme of things. But even a pinprick can grow into a bonfire, if left to its own devices. I can always grow into more over the course of twelve months.

It is a ritual for being mindful. There might not always be the next winter solstice to light a candle and make a simple wish. Such is the way of life. We burn bright for a while and then flicker out. We can leave a trail behind us or leave nothing at all in our wake.

Even the candle leaves tendrils of smoke curling up to the ceiling once it dies out. It reminds me that everything leaves traces, however small. It is reassuring that I cannot fully disappear from the world, even if I wanted to. The winter solstice is all those things and more.

That is the night I wait for all winter.