A few years ago, I was ready to learn something new, so I called in new teachers. And the women who came in, were teachers of Norse shamanism, Yggdrasil lineage - Ylva and Renate. Their offering resonated with me immediately. I had been fascinated with shamanism, and they were teaching in a very grounded way, based on traditions from the very land I am from myself. So I dove in and signed up for a year of shamanic school.

I loved it! I learned about connection with nature, Norse mythology, rune healing and the wheel of the year. I learned the power of ritual and intentions and of gathering in circle. I made my own drums and my own rune oracle. After that year, I have been integrating the teachings. Sometimes on my own, sometimes in circle. And this year, for Winter Solstice - I am going to be somewhere truly special...

The Longest Night

The Winter Solstice, usually falling on December 21, marks the longest night and shortest day of the year in the Northern Hemisphere.

It is a true turning point.

From this moment on, the days begin to lengthen again. The return of the light is subtle at first—almost imperceptible—but something has shifted. Even in the deepest darkness, a new cycle has already begun.

In nature, everything appears quiet. Trees stand bare. Growth has paused. The earth is not producing. And yet, nothing is wrong.

This season is not a mistake.
It is a necessary pause.

Winter as Teacher

Winter teaches us rest.

Not the kind of rest we squeeze in when everything else is done—but the kind that asks us to stop producing altogether. In the natural world, even the substances that keep branches flexible are withdrawn. Trees become brittle. Nature does not resist this. It does not try to stay productive.

It simply turns inward.

There is a deep wisdom here.

When we allow ourselves to follow this rhythm, something in our nervous system softens. We remember that we are not meant to be “on” all the time. That there are seasons for action, and seasons for stillness.

Winter invites us to find our own inner centre of quiet—so that when the time comes to move outward again, we do so from clarity rather than exhaustion.

Will, Inner Strength, and the Dark Season

In many Northern traditions, winter is associated with will and inner strength.

Not force.
Not pushing.

But the steady capacity to stay present through difficulty. To keep walking even when the path feels steep. To remain in contact with what matters, even when external warmth or encouragement is scarce.

Ironically, this is often the time of year when modern life becomes most frantic—end-of-year deadlines, social obligations, consumption, and noise. All while nature is quietly asking us to slow down and look inward.

Winter reminds us that we cannot rely solely on warmth from the outside. We are asked to tend the light within.

Stonehenge and the Winter Solstice

Stonehenge is one of the most powerful and precise solstice monuments in the world. And this is where I will be for Winter Solstice this year!

While many people associate Stonehenge with the Summer Solstice sunrise, archaeological and astronomical research suggests that the Winter Solstice may have been even more significant to the people who built and used it.

At Winter Solstice, the sun sets directly in alignment with the central axis of Stonehenge, sinking between the stones in a deliberate and unmistakable way. This alignment marks not abundance, but return. Not growth, but survival, continuity, and hope.

For ancient communities, winter was the hardest season. Food was scarce. Cold was dangerous. The setting sun at Stonehenge would have been a moment of collective meaning—a reminder that even at the darkest point, the cycle continues.

What the Solstice Asks of Us

The Winter Solstice does not ask us to be positive.
It does not demand transformation.

It asks for honesty.

What is ready to be laid down?
What no longer needs to be carried forward?
What small ember of truth or longing is asking to be protected through the dark?

This is a potent time for reflection—not from the mind alone, but from the body. From sensation. From felt sense.

You might notice memories surfacing. Emotions that have been quiet suddenly speak. This is not regression. It is integration.

A Simple Winter Solstice Ritual

You don’t need elaborate tools or perfect conditions. What matters is intention, presence, and a willingness to listen.

Preparation (done beforehand)

Before your ritual, take some time to reflect.

Look back on the year that is coming to a close:

• What are you genuinely grateful for?
• What has served you, and what feels complete?
• What small seed or intention are you willing to carry gently through the dark season and into spring?

Write a few simple notes for yourself. This isn’t about beautiful wording or big resolutions. Clarity and honesty are enough.

What to bring to the ritual

When you’re ready to mark the Solstice itself, gather a few simple items:

• A candle and matches or a lighter
• Warm clothing, a blanket, or something to sit on if you’re outside
• Optional: stones, runes, or other objects that hold meaning for you

The ritual can be done outdoors or indoors, alone or with others. Choose what feels supportive rather than what feels impressive.

The ritual

Create a sense of calm around you. Turn off your phone. Light your candle and take a few slow breaths, letting your body settle.

As you light the candle, you might say something like:

“At this turning of the year,
I honour the darkness and the light it carries.
I release what no longer serves my life,
and commit to tending what is quietly being born within me.”

Sit in stillness. Let the words land in your body. When it feels complete, extinguish the candle consciously.

You may choose to relight this candle over the following days — especially between now and Imbolc (February 2) — as a way of staying connected to the intention you set at the Solstice.

The Quiet Promise of Light

The light does not return dramatically.

At first, it returns as a whisper. A knowing. A subtle shift you may only notice later, looking back.

Winter Solstice reminds us that transformation does not begin with action. It begins with listening.

From the deepest stillness, something true starts to grow.