Into the Quiet
The Heart of Winter
Winter has long been a season of kinship and connection—a time when people gathered close to the hearth to share warmth, stories, and simple presence. In earlier European traditions, midwinter celebrations such as Yule and the Winter Solstice marked the turning point of the year with the rebirth of the Sun, when days would gradually begin to lengthen again from the longest night. These gatherings centred around feasting, firelight, and community to illuminate the darkest nights, offering hope when resources were scarce, the cold was sharp, and the world felt stripped back to its bones.
Over time, elements of these midwinter customs—evergreens, feasting, hearth fires and the Yule log were woven into later Christmas traditions. Modern society, however, has stretched what was once a beacon of hope through those long, dark nights into an endless, glittering parade of festivities, indulgence, and excess... so bright and busy, that the quiet magic of the season often goes unnoticed and we have forgotten how to sustain.
We have lost touch with the heart of these occasions and the rituals that once harmonised us with the natural world, reducing them to hollow commercial observances that strain our weary spirits and the fragile existence of the planet. Ritual, at its essence, is the act of giving thanks for what we already have—pausing to see more clearly, to love more deeply, and to recognise the Spirit in all things. Through ritual, we remember what enlivens our eyes, ignites our hearts, and nourishes our souls.
Again this year, I have chosen to spend Yuletide in solitude, a winter retreat into the quiet of being alone. It feels like an initiation rite, a time to strip away distraction and meet the bare truth of winter, to compost the journey of the past year, creating the rich soil for what is yet to come. While I will be alone for Christmas, this is not about isolation, but a practice in solitude, a conscious turning inward, held in the love and support of dear friends and family from afar.
For me, the true celebration arrives at the Solstice with the rebirth of the Sun. On the 21st December we reach the still point, the longest hours of darkness before the slow return of the light. This year, the Solstice arrives just after the new moon, when the dark night stretches into the vastness. It is a rare moment when both our cosmic bodies are reborn, inviting a deeper quiet. In this fertile pause, we can reflect on the year gone by and sense the shape of what is to come.
However you choose to meet the season, may you find pockets of rest and respite. Let this season be a conscious celebration: embracing the rhythms, rites, and rituals that nourish the parts of us hungry for truth, magick, and connection. Let us step away from the chaos of modern life and return to the heart of winter!