Happy Winter Solstice!

The shortest day of the year has begun. I always found it intriguing how, on the shortest day of the year and the first day of winter, the sun is about to reclaim dominion over the sky (in tiny increments). Likewise, even though Summer Solstice is the longest day of the year and the first day of summer, it also signals the beginning of lengthening nights, the axe swing toward winter. I like the yin and yangness of it all; it really serves as descriptive metaphor for my emotional life.

I have a book, The Winter Solstice: The Sacred Traditions of Christmas, by John and Caitlín Matthews, which delves into the history of Winter Solstice celebrations and the fundamental connection between Solstice and Christmas. It discusses Solstice rituals and traditions from cultures around the world, both current and modern, from the ancient Romans’ Saturnalia celebrations to the sun rites of the Zuñi and Hopi to Solstice in modern Taiwan. It covers the meaning behind each of the 12 days of Christmas, the Mummers, the Kalends of January, Hogmanay, Santa, Shamans, the Nativity, etc. It offers ways to celebrate the Solstice (making a winter shrine and preparing a Yule log, for example). It’s a fascinating book and I recommend perusing it if you get a chance. A nice description of Winter Solstice from the book:

The Solstice is a time of quietude, of firelight and dreaming, when seeds germinate in the cold earth and the cold notes of church bells mingle with the chimes of icicles. Rivers are stilled and the land lies waiting beneath a coverlet of snow. We watch the cold sunlight and the bright stars, maybe go for walks in the quiet land. Sometimes we go carol singing—even those who would normally never think of lifting their voice in song. Attending Midnight Mass, even for those without Christian beliefs, can become a special event. All around us the season seems to reach a standstill—a point of repose. Then, as the Solstice sun moves across the heavens, the new year wakens, the darkness is dispelled, the days grow longer, and we prepare for new beginnings.

song heard most recently before posting: The Sadness of the Autumn is Now O’er—Megha Morganfield