Welcome to this meditation for the winter solstice.
I invite you to make your way into a place where you can receive the practice.
Whether that means lying down or gently reclining in something that can support your back.
I'm just taking the next few moments to make sure that you can be fully comfortable building your rest nest for this time that we are sharing together.
And taking your time,
Moving slowly,
Intentionally,
Setting yourself up to arrive fully in the present moment.
And take a slow grounding breath in and exhale softly out through the mouth like a warm gentle sigh.
Welcome to this journey into stillness,
Renewal and the quiet brilliance that lives beneath the surface of the darkest night.
Allow your awareness to soften as we step gently into this sacred turning of the year.
As you settle into your comfortable position,
Let your shoulders melt away from your ears.
Feel the steady weight of the earth beneath you,
Holding you,
Supporting you.
We begin with solstice breath,
A rhythm that mirrors the slow deep quiet of winter.
Inhaling for four,
Holding for two and exhaling for six.
I will guide you for a few rounds and then perhaps silently repeat on your own.
Inhale,
One,
Two,
Three,
Four.
Hold,
One,
Two.
Exhale,
One,
Two,
Three,
Four,
Five,
Six.
Again,
Inhale,
One,
Two,
Three,
Four.
Hold.
Exhale,
One,
Two,
Three,
Four,
Five,
Six.
Hold and exhale.
With each exhale,
Imagine releasing the stories,
Worries and tension gathered from the long year behind you.
Repeat this technique for five more rounds on your own.
Feel your body as though it's laying into winter itself.
The cool hush,
The tender darkness,
The quiet invitation to rest.
Scanning your body gently from your crown all the way to the toes,
Softening the jaw,
Perhaps loosening the ribs,
Letting your belly expand with ease.
Imagine the breath pulling like warm light in the center of your chest.
Now allow a scene to form behind your closed eyes.
You stand at the edge of a snow-covered forest,
The world blue and silver under the deep winter sky.
Snowflakes drift softly,
Whisper light.
The air is crisp but kind.
Every sound is softened as though winter has pressed a finger to its lips.
And as you breathe,
You begin to walk into this forest,
Each step a gentle crunch beneath your feet.
The trees around you stand tall and bare,
Their branches like dark poetry against the sky.
This is the season of inwardness,
The season of listening.
With every breath,
Let the forest invite you to reflect on the year gone by,
Its triumphs,
Its pains,
Its learnings,
Its quiet miracles.
Inhale,
I honor what has been.
Exhale,
I release what no longer serves.
Allow the forest to take what you've become ready to lay down.
Head through the darkened trees,
You see a faint ember grow.
Walk toward it with slow,
Intentional breaths.
Inhaling 1,
2,
3,
4.
Exhaling 1,
2,
3,
4,
5.
Feeling the steady rhythm within you.
Noticing the glow grows into a small fire,
Burning warmly at the heart of a clearing,
A flame that never dies.
This symbol of the sun's quiet promise to return.
You approach and sit before it,
Feeling the warmth kiss your cheeks.
As you sit before the solstice flame,
Bring to mind one intention for the new season,
Not a resolution,
But a seed,
A seed of becoming,
A seed of light that will grow with the returning sun.
Hold it gently in your heart.
Now imagine placing this intention,
This tiny seed of truth into the flame.
The fire does not burn it,
Instead it illuminates it.
The seed begins to glow,
Radiating warmth through your whole body.
Inhale,
I welcome the light.
Exhale,
I awaken the new within me.
The glowing intention expands outward,
Filling the clearing,
Filling the forest,
Filling the long night with soft golden shimmer.
This light wraps around you like a shawl of brilliance,
Warming your ribs,
Your throat,
Your spine.
Breathe it in.
Inhaling deeply,
Exhaling slowly.
Inhaling fully,
Exhaling completely,
Letting go.
Let this warmth anchor into your bones.
The forest remains behind your closed eyes,
But the flame's glow now lives inside you.
Beginning to feel your physical body once again,
The weight of your hands,
The grounding of the floor beneath you.
Making small movements in your body,
Perhaps rolling your shoulders gently.
Beginning to wiggle your fingers and toes.
Take a deeper breath in and a long,
Soothing breath out.
On this winter solstice,
May you find rest in the darkness,
Strength in the stillness,
And renewal in the returning light.
And whenever you're ready,
Not before,
Slowly open your eyes.
