3 seasonal journal prompts for the Winter Solstice

We might feel invited to join the winter trees and hibernating species in their season of rest. Yet these days around the Winter Solstice and Christmas can sometimes feel hectic, pressured, and intense. Stoke the fires of inner reflection and self-care with these seasonal journal prompts (with a shortcut for when you’re just too busy!).

This week, Spin Your Circle Bright continues its series of Wheel of the Year journal prompts, mapping the themes and teachings of each of the eight pagan festivals to your unique self-development journey. In the pagan calendar, Yule  —  the Winter Solstice  —  honours the need to rest, to reflect and to dream. Of course, it’s also a traditional time to gather and celebrate.

Our own festive arrangements might mix those done through choice along with others done through obligation, forming quite the emotional cocktail. Our spiritual needs can so easily slip aside to make way for everything and everyone that needs visiting, buying for and thinking of. Self-care can feel like the side-dish your day’s always too full for.

However, self-care also doesn’t have to be all or nothing. If you don’t have time to sit and fully write out your explored responses to these prompts then you can reflect on them in the shower, when you’re doing the dishes or walking in from putting the recycling out. Brief notes can always be made later (I’ve often done so on the back of a receipt, or similar, that then I glue into my journal when I’ve time!). Gift yourself what you can, but make sure that you’re definately on your own gift list.

Image by Ylanite Koppens from Pixabay

Journal prompts for personal growth and spiritual self-development

Open your heart, mind, and journal to some or all of these prompts to deepen your connection to the season and yourself. Use these suggestions to unlock your reflections on the sleeping year, and discover the dreams that you hold for the new  — as well as what you need to make them happen.

Will you use these Winter Solstice prompts as an experimental, one-off journalling exercise? Or journey further into your self-development with this series of prompts for each pagan festival?

As with the prompts for the other sabbats, each prompt is also broken down into a few further questions. These are provided to help you go deeper with clarifying, reflecting on or exploring your thoughts and feelings.

Image by Bianca Van Dijk from Pixabay

1) I take actual rest from…

What honestly helps you to feel rested and nourished, to quiet your mind, and bring you pleasure and peace? Really think what does it for you… and not just what we’re told brings us these things.

Sometimes, my head gets too busy to engage with yoga without getting distracted, so I stick on a podcast whilst I practice. Although it’s not as meditative, or engaged, or spiritual as just attaining to my breath and body it focuses my brain enough to then bring my focus to my body. So that I actually do the yoga, and then feel pleased about how my body feels for it. Sometimes I can journal or write, but not meditate. Sometimes on a walk a need constant sensory engagement from touching trees, so that my mind doesn’t whirl into worries. All of these things help to clear out mental chatter, internal topic-jumping, rehearsing/replaying conversations and other thought processes that can be unhelpful. A good book or film can also keep your attention from these demons…if and when you’ve time for them.

What really switches off your busy brain? You do you.

How long could you give to that thing today? A minute? (when you’re locked in the bathroom!) Ten minutes? Twenty?

Image by Bob Dmyt from Pixabay

2) I am giving…

Not so much what you’ve put wrapped up under the tree, but what you are shining out into the world. What you’re creating; what you are uniquely offering.

At Yule, the Sun is reborn: what are you birthing out into the world?

This year, I have given for others…

This year, I have given for myself...

Something I have lost, but would like to return, is…

Something I could do to help to make that happen is…

Image by StockSnap from Pixabay

3) This year, my community has been found in…

Perhaps you’ve a strong sense of community among your neighbours, your family, through your kids’ school or a group you regularly attend. Perhaps you also find community online around certain interests, struggles, or aspects of yourself, that you don’t share with your IRL friends. Perhaps you feel a sense of community when you smile in the street at someone you pass who dresses a bit like you, or who you feel affinity with in some way. Community can come in various forms, and perhaps you’ve found more than one tribe.

I feel community from x because…

Through connecting with them, what I have learned about myself is….

What I think I give them is…

We show gratitude to each other through…

I feel that I lack a sense of community around….

A way that I could try to seek this out would be to….

Wishing you a very Winter Solstice; that you do find moments of stillness and calm. That you connect with those that you feel you belong with. And that self-care can be a main course even if just for five minutes. Make sure you’re subscribed for the rest of the seasonal journal prompts series, and more. )O(

Top image thanks to ymkaaaaaa, via Pixabay

How to create a nature-based alternative Advent

How can you celebrate Advent within nature-based spirituality? Do alternative secular Advent calendars exist? With the shortest day just a month away, here’s how to make the darkening days special and meaningful as we approach the Winter Solstice.

Top image by Mariya Muschard from Pixabay

Several years ago, I wrote a post about how I had made an alternative Advent calendar for my then-toddler that reflected our nature-based spirituality. I explained how Advent celebrations still held meaning and importance to me whilst following a pagan path, and in the context of it leading to the Winter Solstice rather than Christmas.

Since then, the exact pagan Advent calendar that I made my son has been upgraded, the types of treats inside have evolved along with him, and an additional calendar has been made for his younger brother. Over the nine years since I wrote the post, various winter traditions have embedded comfortingly into our family life, whilst others have changed along with our needs, interests, home location and circumstances.

Image by Bruno /Germany from Pixabay

Alternative / secular advent calendar ideas

From my own personal Googling, it seems very hard / not possible to find an advent calendar that features dates up until the eve of the Winter Solstice rather than Christmas Eve. Secular Advent calendars are available to buy, featuring a range of themes from nature-based to activity-based to crystal-filled to crafty to sexy to “reverse Advent calendars”. Although witchy calendars exist too, these still feature the standard 1-24 day labels. However, some on a more pagan path use these as a countdown until the solstice: they start to open their Advent calendar before December begins — meaning that pagan kids don’t get short-changed with the Solstice coming slightly earlier than Christmas!).

My solution has been to make my own calendars for my kids, with removable numbers to take into account the fact that the solstice is not on exactly the same date every year. There are various ways to make your own advent calendar, from the simple to those that can showcase the very best of sewing skills.

We start our advent calendars on the first Sunday of Advent. Whilst the four Sundays of Advent are a Christian concept, this is the one that fits best with us. This is possibly influenced by nostalgia around the church advent wreaths I remember from my childhood, watching the big candles being lit amongst lush greenery. We have our own little Advent wreath that we put on our dining table from the first Sunday of Advent, designed around a similar idea to the Steiner-Waldorf Four Kingdoms.

Image by Myriams-Fotos from Pixabay

My eldest’s first advent calendar, that I wrote about nine years ago, was made from eggboxes strung from a large twig. You can use:

• numbered envelopes,
• fabric pouches (bought or sewn yourself),
• empty toilet rolls,
• or decorate a ready-made house with drawers,
• repurposed odd or too-worn socks,
• this printable paper calendar
• knitters might enjoy making an Advent calendar cushion, or one of these ideas.

My kids’ current calendars are less perfect-looking versions of this very neat template. I deliberately made ours with different-sized pockets to accommodate gifts in a variety of sizes, and I use mini clothes-pegs to attach the paper numbers.

As for what goes inside the pockets, you’re the best judge of what will best please your kids and your budget! For toddlers, the simplest things hold so much wonder; my boys’ first Advent calendar gifts were things like:

• acorns / similar woodland treasures,
• a couple of dates wrapped in foil,
• seashells / interesting pebbles,
• a pretty bead,
• herbal teabags,
• crystals,
• crayons,
• a coin,
• stickers,
• a “little gnome” made using one of these,
• a tealight candle to light in the afternoon,
• dolls’ house / fairy garden items,
• a scrap of pretty fabric to make something with,
• notes with details of a festive activity to do that day (bake gingerbread, roll beeswax candles, paint decorations, make cards, decorate the tree, go to see the lights in town).

Image by Helena Jankovičová Kováčová from Pixabay

We used to balance roughly half “note (activity) days” to half “gift days”, which fitted with us home-educating and their ages and interests then. You may find that older children have their own idea of when they want to put the tree up, so a note saying you’ll do be doing that isn’t really a surprise. For us, the time taken up by school and clubs now doesn’t leave them as much time or energy for crafts and outings. And then there’s the other enchantment: screens…

Whilst some of the above might work for any age, advent calendar gift ideas for older kids could also include:

• small toys like mini slinkies, bubbles, or other party bag toys,
• sweets / chocolate,
• snack bars,
• cool stationary / craft materials,
• Lego minifigures,
• badges or iron-on patches,
• hairbands / slides,
• kid jewellery (or supplies for making some!),
• kits, materials or instructions for making festive decorations,
• mini cheddars / similar,
• mini soaps / bathbombs / massage bars,
• lip balm / biodegradable face and body glitter.

Most years, I get a charity shop book or two for the larger pockets of my kids’ advent calendars. We also have a tradition where, on one of the days, their gift is two 50p coins. One is for them, one is to donate to a charity cause of their choice. I’d love to hear of other ideas that come to your mind!

This year’s calendars (almost) ready to go!

Other ways to celebrate alternative, secular or pagan Advent

As the word advent as an improper noun can relate to the approach or coming of something, I believe that you can acknowledge the advent of whatever festival/s you celebrate around this time. These celebrations often involve a lot of preparation, like baking special food or buying and wrapping gifts, Or they can involve various events in addition to the solstice / Christmas Day itself. Winter fairs, school plays, concerts, work parties, gatherings with family you might not spend the Big Day itself with, and perhaps other occasions all form the season of building up and awaiting.

Perhaps these make up a sense of Advent on their own. Perhaps you would like particular markers for each week of Advent (such as a wreath), or to do something special to open the Advent season with. Steiner kindergartens, for example, often hold beautiful Advent Spiral ceremonies which are magical for young children if you ever get the chance to attend (or organise!) one.

A specific calendar or simple list of your family’s various festive activities could be particularly useful for neurodivergent children who might struggle with having lots to remember, changed routines, and overwhelm or overtiredness (even if it’s from enjoyable events). Reducing stimulation for those who are sensitive to it can be another benefit to spreading out celebrations and gift-giving between events.

Image by Sabrina Ripke from Pixabay

For yourself, alternative Advent ideas the reflect nature-based spirituality could include:

• Choosing a theme for each week for an area of self-development, or a problem you’re looking to answer, that you focus on in your journaling, meditation or divination. The themes could relate to Solstice associations, or to anything you choose.
• Choosing a different deity, herb, tree, crystal etc to study each week,
• Choosing a different local walk for each week (perhaps a short that you try to do as many times as possible during that week to build up relationship with its land, plants and spirits),
• Committing to a particular self-care task for each week. Some low-cost ideas include taking a luxurious bath, giving yourself a foot or face massage, phoning a friend, doing some yoga (or pilates or Tai-Chi), or setting aside an hour to enjoy a book and a nice drink.

I hope that your journey towards the Winter Solstice gives you some chances to rest and dream, some opportunities to reflect, and some meaningful and lovely alternative Advent celebrations. Make sure you’re subscribed for future posts for nature table and pagan altar inspiration, seasonal journal prompts and many more tips and ideas for pagan family life. )O(

7 kids’ winter stories to stoke up your heart & hearth

Light the fire or some candles, fill everyone’s mug with hot cocoa, pass around the gingerbread and gather together with this cosy selection of nature-based winter stories.

This week, Spin You Circle Bright continues its seasonal series of recommendations for children’s nature stories and books. Following a nature-based spiritual path, it’s been important for me to share that with my kids. Not to force them to believe the same as me, but to help them to develop their own relationship with nature, whether or not they feel it to be a spiritual one. At this time of climate crisis, and what that means for the future that my sons face, it’s my responsibility to facilitate that learning, Of course, being outdoors immersed in various activities and landscapes offers the best classroom for nature education. However, as writer Barry Lopez says (quoted from one of my favourite blogs, Myth and Moor):

“Stories do not give instruction, they do not explain how to love a companion or how to find God. They offer, instead, patterns of sound and association, of event and image. Suspended as listeners and readers in these patterns, we might reimagine our lives”.

Barry Lopez (About This Life).

Here are some winter stories that I love for the seasonal scenes, plants and activities they depict. If, like me, you’re not fond of books for young children that have garish pictures and lots of sensationalist language, you’ll find these books more gentle. To give loose age suitability, my kids got into these stories around age two or three, and my six year-old still enjoys most of them.

Picture-based winter story for pre-schoolers

Winter, by Gerda Muller

When my boys were younger, we pored over this seasonal series of books. Each takes a pictorial journey through the season, from when early signs appear to when it starts to change into the next. Seasonal activities are shown; in this book these include shovelling snow and feeding the birds. This makes it a great resource for connecting the book’s images with what you and your child see during your own walks or garden time — or you can tell your own story to accompany the illustrations.

Winter solstice stories

Brambly Hedge Winter Story / The Secret Staircase, by Jill Barklem

Both of these popular nature-based classics involve “winter celebrations” rather than naming Christmas. The Secret Staircase specifically centres around the community’s midwinter festival, so could be a lovely opener for discussions with slightly older kids around the separate meanings of the solstice and of Midwinter’s Day.

The Shortest Day, by Susan Cooper and Carson Ellis

Carson Ellis’ gentle modern illustrations follow Susan Cooper’s poem that focusses on traditional Yuletide celebrations and rituals. A gorgeous book to share with younger children about what the solstice is, and introduce how it has held meaning for past generations, as well as how we can connect to those ancestors through our own rituals and festivities.

A festive story to get you all laughing

Findus at Christmas, by Sven Nordqvist

Findus at Christmas is filled with the same kind of chaos, mishaps and bickering as the other Pettson and Findus books, so will get everyone giggling together. This story, like the others, weaves itself around seasonal outdoor and indoor activities in a rural setting. There’s a lovely theme of the community helping someone in need in this book, too. The depiction of Scandinavian festive traditions inspired my kids and I to one year celebrate Christmas Eve in a similar way, with foods and focus like those in the story.

Winter stories with subtle learning opportunities

The Winter Bear, by Ruth Craft and Erik Blegvad

This was a favourite winter story from my own childhood much-loved by my kids, too. It’s out of print now, but if you can get a second-copy then young children will probably enjoy the short rhyming story of three siblings who unexpectedly find treasure “in need of repair”. I like books like this that mention plants and other nature facts as part of the tale; the book isn’t trying to be educational, or force learning, but mentions these within the flow of the story.

Tomten Tales, by Astrid Lindgren and Harald Wiberg

A duo of two more classics set in rural Scandinavia, against the backdrop of farm life and seasonal work. The story also presents the Tomten, a helpful fairy-folk type appreciated by farmers in parts of Scandinavia for their protection and assistance. I particularly like the portrayal of both the farmer’s and the fox’s perspectives, and the empathic but firm and creative way that the Tomten deals with the fox whilst still protecting the chickens.

Wishing you cosiness and contentedness as the light fades and the temperature drops. I can’t think of a more perfect way to spend a winter’s day than wrapping up for a walk, then returning to the sanctuary of my sofa with comforting drinks, a stack of books and my beautiful kids; make sure your winter story stash can see you and your little ones through the season ahead. )O(

Image by ivabalk from Pixabay

Spin your circle bright this week:

Mind~ With darkness falling earlier now, winter is an ideal time to tune our awareness to the moon. Just in case you have some of your book budget left (or room in your kid’s stocking!) after reading this article, check out this list of 12 Best Books About the Moon. For older kids more into chapter books, this list has plenty of suggestions for winter stories.

Body~ If your child struggles with longer book-snuggle sessions because they’re a kid that needs frequent movement, incorporating some yoga can enable a bit of fidget whilst keeping on-theme. For example, butterfly pose could be adapted to be opening and shutting a book, or your movement break could have you being wise owls — or wriggly bookworms!

Heart~ I love seeing artworks and crafts that use old books, like this cute winter house. But if a book of mine is in a condition where I can bear for it to no longer be used for reading, it’s probably even past crafting with! What do you think?

Spirit~ Oral storytelling — without books — is an old tradition that would have pre-dated when most people were literate, so is a lovely practice which holds connection to our ancestors and our past. We’re still in the season of Samhain-tide, when remembering our ancestral connections is still topical, and the veil between worlds still thin. Doing this after dark mirrors how our forebearers are likely to have spent the long evenings. Although lighting a fire or candles will add authenticity to the scene, some children may find having this as the only light source a bit too scary; you know your kids best. If you can’t retell a tale off the top of your head, tell one from your own childhood as kids usually love to hear these. Or use a storybag to prompt.

Sharing~ The Reading Corner is an awesome UK charity on a mission to diversify bookshelves, and ensure every child has access to books and sound literacy education. Find out about their amazing projects here, and diversify your own bookshelf via The Reading Corner’s exciting recent collaboration with Books That Matter.

You can discover new literary voices by joining The Reading Corner’s bookclub, promoting new releases by female, BIPOC and LGBTQIA+ authors. Get background insights into the books you’d like to read through the club’s author interviews, like my recent Q & A with Deeba Zargarpur. Deeba’s spooky YA debut, House of Yesterday, comes out later this month and I can’t recommend it enough for its beautifully written journey through teen grief and loss, centred around the discovery of a ghostly family secret.

If you’re not able to commit to a book club, you can still stay in touch with The Reading Corner’s latest interviews and project developments via their social media and their mailing list. Sign up to today to support their vision of diversifying who appears on and inside book covers; everyone’s story deserves to be heard.

Top image by Алексей Смирнов from Pixabay

Why tiny lights have big appeal. Lantern craft ideas for November.

Lanterns and lamps symbolise illumination, comfort and revealing deep inner mysteries. Read on for tips and ideas for making Waldorf lanterns, links to paper lantern DIY, and other stunning lantern craft projects to light up even the gloomiest days.

Many of us carved and lit Jack-o-lanterns last Monday on the eve of famously-dark November. In countries that have put their clocks back in the past week, dusk is suddenly arriving an hour sooner, and the cusp of winter approaches. The season calls for cosiness and for inner work and reflection, whilst the weather often calls us indoors.

Hoar frost-covered lamp-post image by jggrz via Pixabay

Symbolism of lamps and lanterns

Lucy meets Mr Tumnus beneath a lamp-post; she being the first of the Pevensie siblings to enter Narnia, and he being the first resident of the magical kingdom that she meets. There begins the children’s adventure discovering the secrets of Narnia and their purpose there, the lamp-post also being a landmark they use to find their way back to the other side of the wardrobe.

Image from Harry Potter Cursed Child theatre decor, by Judith Brodnicki via Pixabay

Candles and lanterns (and wands) are the only light sources in the castle boarding schools that Worst Witch Mildred Hubble and famous wizard Harry Potter attend with their friends. Daylight might provide the lighting for most of the pupils’ lessons, but it is often the protagonists’ night-time adventures that supply their most important lessons and inner personal growth.

In the similarly magical world of fairytales, lanterns facilitate the underground work of the gnomes, the late-night revelry of fairies and the mysterious after-dusk work of witches and Father Christmas. Most of us in the West summon instant light with the flicking of a plastic switch and, even at night, don’t experience total darkness because of streetlamps, nightlights, and the tiny but constant LED glow of standby mode. Lanterns perhaps offer a glimmer of connection to the mysteries of the past and of our ancestors, and to the perceived simplicity of pre-modern life.

Candles arranged in heart image by svklimkin from Pixabay

Why do we love to light candles?

Now we have more convenient and powerful light sources, we associate candlelight with the significant, pleasurable and hygge. Their softer light lends to romantic or relaxing atmospheres, as well as to spiritual activities such as meditation, divination, or ritual. A reason given for this is that reducing the stimulation available to the physical senses enables the other senses to be heightened.

A naked flame offers a magic of its own to young children. In Steiner Waldorf kindergartens, a candle is lit on the table at mealtimes to provide the elemental experience of the living flame. Other elements are also represented in the form of fresh flowers (or leaves, berries, twigs in bud etc), fresh water or herbal tea, as well as wholesome, home-baked food.

The emphasis is on the close, dynamic experience with nature; electric light removes us from the natural sources used to make it. A flame dances, changes and participates in the chemical exchange in the air, whereas electric light is stagnant and indirect.

Birthday ring image by M W from Pixabay

Introducing children to the “living flame”, fire safety and responsibility

You don’t need your children to be at a Steiner Waldorf kindergarten, or to have an open fire in your home, for them to access this. Could you place a candle on your table at mealtimes as a simple, but special, touch? The littlest little ones tend to find this enchanting, and can help to blow (or snuff) out the candle at the end of the meal.

At an appropriate age, children can help to light candles, too. I find that using long matches reassures both my kids and I that the flame will stay well back from their fingers, even if the candle wick doesn’t catch immediately. It’s particularly lovely to combine your candle lighting and extinguishing with a little sentence of thanks, or a gratitude blessing, at each end of the meal. Having the candle on the table can open up important discussions around why we don’t dangle decorations close to it, why we don’t leave it unattended, and more.

Jam jar lanterns image by Pexels via Pixabay

Lantern projects for all ages and attention spans

At this darker time of the year, take lantern-making beyond the Halloween pumpkins or other carved vegetables, to create your own magical display. This could range from simple after-school makes like paper lanterns or recycled tin can luminaries, to more complex projects like these ethereal papier-maché ones, or these earthier clay beauties.

The humble jam jar can be covered in various beautiful ways to create a cosy glow:

• tissue paper ideas are good lantern craft project to do with younger children as a lovely effect can be achieved with very randomly cut or torn, and stuck, shapes. They might need help with the gluing, as well as with making a handle if you choose to include one, but this is a fairly toddler-friendly option with low cost and time overheads.

• autumn leaves lanterns are similarly so…..but perhaps with slightly higher mess potential!

• pretty sparkling bead-decorated jars could also be a good lantern DIY for fairly young children if the beads aren’t so tiny that little fingers find them too fiddly. Whilst you might need to supervise closely and do more intricate wire-bending, bead-threading can be a great activity for fine motor skill development (which can then support handwriting development), as well as other Early Years skills.

• older kids may enjoy trying these gorgeous wet-felted or knitted designs.

There’s a wealth of lantern craft projects online that are perfect seasonal makes after Samhain has passed, yet when it still feels a bit early to start Winter Solstice crafts. Placed on your nature table, in your meditation space or on a pagan altar, the making and lighting of your lantern can warm hearts, stir memories, invoke mystery and brighten any grey day.

Mushroom cottage image by Enrique Meseguer from Pixabay

Spin your circle bright this week:

Mind~ From Samhain to Diwali to Martinmas to Loy Krathong right through Advent to Chinese New Year, several festivals within this season feature lantern displays or processions. Your lantern craft project could reflect the style of a particular pantheon that you’re working with in your magical practice. Similarly, you could find a paper lantern DIY that connects with a particular culture or country that your kids are studying as a school or home-ed topic.

Body~ Have you ever tried the Ayurvedic candle meditation practice of tratak? Learn here how to perform this traditional meditation to aid eye health and relaxation, and here for how it could benefit modern shortened attention spans. This video can also guide you through the tratak practice.

Heart~ Following from last week’s post where we explored grief among our Samhain journal prompts, I wanted to share this collection of images from The Guardian exploring loss, memory and hope.

Spirit~ In the tarot, The Hermit is usually depicted carrying a lantern. This card has associations with self-reflection, inner wisdom, introspection, and self-development. It can signify a period of solitude and soul-searching, and perhaps gaining perspective from withdrawing, or being detached, from a situation.

Sharing~ The Lantern Network is an American non-profit that “ inspires, guides and propels young, underrepresented Americans, encouraging them to discover their purpose, reach their dreams, and change their lives for the better.“ Taking its name from the lanterns that were among the symbols that identified homes within the Underground Railroad, this network of anti-slavery activists helped many Black Americans to escape physical slavery. The Lantern Network assists modern young Black Americans to achieve economic freedom, access mentoring, and work towards other life goals. Contribute to this awesome mission here.

Sacred space

It’s been a while since I have been in this space. More than half a year. Late spring, plus summer and autumn have all passed on a spinning plate that wobbles somewhat precariously on some of my fingers whilst my other fingers attempt to weave the myriad threads of Day-To-Day Life, and my mind is scattered in a hundred places. And my ears try to attend to quite a few voices.

Now we are sliding into winter where I live. Samhain-tide, I call this: the time from October’s Vanishing Moon (the waning crescent – the last quarter) to that of November. This winter seems to have come early with that chilly, biting kind of wind that makes you squint as it chaps your hands, dancing around you like a playful toddler who wants to have fun but hasn’t quite learnt what level of rough hurts people! Samhain-tide is a sacred, liminal time where I say goodbye to the year – and with it the dreams I didn’t fulfill, the mistakes I made and hard memories that I’d like to bury. I picture them mushing into a sludge along with all the fallen leaves then sinking down into the earth, their secrets becoming the lessons that will nourish the seeds that grow next year. I look forward to that renewal.

It’s a sacred time, these death-throes of the year, and I find it’s easy to be tempted to skip over it and start focusing on the festive season, to start all the planning and making and buying and counting down. The shops lure us to do this from so early on. I find it sad not to give this time it’s own space, that we turn away from whatever song it has to sing – even if, with plants decaying into the earth and with few flowers left, it’s not the prettiest song.

I wonder if a parallel could be drawn between our society’s skipping-over of the year’s dying, and how we don’t talk about – or we make taboo – old-age and death of us as people.

So I’ve tried to resist the festive magazines and refuse to eat a mince pie yet, until I’ve finished my Samhain-ing. I’ve been connecting with the slowness of this time, enjoying the invitation of the dark afternoons to cosy up and light candles, savouring the remains of Autumn’s beauty. (Like the revelation I had this week of how I prefer the deep red of the hawthorn and rowan berries now to their more scarlet hue earlier on). Protecting space as sacred can be hard though – whether that space is

• a period of time in the calendar,
• the “space” amidst all life’s to-do lists for self-care and spiritual practice,
• personal space when your loved ones need endless hugs,
• emotional space from those who are wearing you down a little,
• physical space (say, protecting our nature table from being dismantled by our now-mobile baby!),
• geographical space such as the land and water that those at Standing Rock are trying so very hard to protect,
• mental space,
• creative space.
• And online space to come here and tell you all about it.

But I guess doing so is part of what makes it sacred.

 Happy winter  ♥ ♥

Vanishing

I was blessed with a beautiful glimpse of the vanishing moon – the waning crescent – this morning. The last, or maybe penultimate, sliver before she enters her dark phase. Sadly I have no photo due to our brilliant little camera being away at the camera hospital, having accidentally met with my arm and then the kitchen floor. Can I blame pregnancy for such clumsiness? Let’s go with yes.

A Great-Grandmother Moon from a less clumsy time in my life. This morning’s moon was leaning back a little more, and the sky a little darker with Venus shining brightly quite nearby.

I correlate the dark phase of the lunar cycle with the Winter Solstice in the solar cycle, so today we’re around similar times in both. I hold the word vanishing in my mind and think about its correlation to my own life right now: the vanishing days before the Solstice and Christmas is upon us (why am I not more organised for these events by this point in December?! And why do I leave it so late every year?!), the vanishing weeks before my baby is due to be born, my seemingly vanishing energy in the evenings. The vanishing sense of anxiety about it all as I realise that, really, almost everything that’s truly important has been done; by the time baby comes, we’ll be ready to welcome them.

Back outside, the colour is fast vanishing from our garden as the last of the nasturtiums have died and the green leaves are pretty few. The piles of crisp, vibrant leaves on the ground are vanishing into brown soggy mud and mush. The light starts vanishing not long after 3pm. “Come inside,” it all whispers sleepily, “find a blanket. Rest and dream”.

December

 

December, to me, is twinkling. The day’s light is pale, fragile and translucent – and there is always twinkling. Twinkling of the indoor lights that peep from windows, determined to be warm against the outdoor winter light, twinkling of streetlights that come on in the afternoon and of Christmas lights. I find some of them pretty and some of them tacky and garish.

Last year’s Solstice Branches

The pretty ones give me an inner twinkle. It’s the twinkle of anticipation as the festive season – and deeper winter – draws near. I love winter: the beauty of bare trees and of frost, the cosying up, the feeling of mystery in the darkness and in the . The anticipation that I feel is similar to that of my son as he opens his advent calendar each day. It’s in our excitement in this month of preparation for the solstice and for Christmas. It’s a child-like feeling and that’s probably what’s so special about it; this time of year awakens the part of me that will always be a wonder-filled, magic-believing, enthusiastic child. The busy awake feeling of my inner world is in contrast to the outer world, which speaks of sleep and inactivity.

But glitter and sparkle is where they both meet.

 

“Snow Garden” – snow is made from soap powder and crystals, twigs, fir cones, conkers etc are added. Taken from Earthwise by Carol Petrash.

November nature table

Our November nature table / family altar is less colourful than earlier in Autumn (see also this and this post). The oranges, bronzes, and rich reds mostly give way to plainer, darker, more sombre hues, although I find that a little sparkle somewhere (like in the spider-webs on this cloth) doesn’t go amiss. I usually prefer altar cloths of natural fabrics, but at Samhain I make an exception and dig this one out to remind me of the association of spiders with Autumn, with weaving magic, and with the idea of interconnectedness: the webs in our lives of community, of the various aspects of our inner and outer selves, of collective consciousness. Sparkle reminds me of frost, and November is usually the month in which it arrives to where I live. I’m also feeling drawn to bowls, particularly empty ones: symbols for winter where the womb of the crone goddess is empty and barren.

To represent air, I’ve offered a little bowl of black copal; it’s colour and scent seem to me appropriate to this time of the year and to the crone aspect of the goddess. Our offering for Earth here is a little piece of cinnamon bun from a batch made by my husband. He doesn’t bake a lot and this kind of recipe was quite a new thing for him to do. To me this was reminiscent of Samhain being the beginning of a new year, a new cycle and new aspirations. 

My mother-in-law spontaneously made this pine-needle angel on a walk in the woods that our family recently enjoyed together. I love it, particularly how the inspiration just came to her to tie a couple of knots to form arms and….voila!

The sweet chestnuts are awaiting a roasting attempt… but I can be quite the champion procrastinator with attempting something new that has strong Fail Potential.

The spoon lives on our nature table. It’s the first of three spoons that my husband has carved, the second being a ladle and the third – carved this Samhain – being around dessert-spoon sized. This one, although so beautiful, wasn’t carved optimally so we only use it decoratively: it reminds me of the idea of process and improvement. The different stages of the cycle of the year (and of the moon) that we see in nature prompt us to consider these stages in the cycles of our inner worlds: our projects, our self-development and other inner journeys. This is particularly relevant at this point in the year where the sleeping Earth calls us to attend to those inner journeys and our psycho-spiritual selves.

The seed-heads below and nasturtium seeds (picture below this) remind me of the “seeds” (ie. things that we have learnt and gained) that we take forwards to replant and nourish us in the new year. The fairy toadstools, the owl and the witch are, to me, symbols of magic and wisdom pertinent to this time of the year.

On our picture wire still hangs a few Autumnal pictures: a couple of the apple and pumpkin harvest that we are still enjoying, a couple reminding us of the falling/fallen leaves that still surround us and our shoes. Another picture, if a lantern procession, reminds me of the light-related festivals of Diwali, Martinmas and Advent that fall in November. The central picture – in the misty greys of typical November weather – is of an old tin mine engine house in my native Cornwall; a reminder of the concept of ancestry honoured and celebrated at Samhain.

Bright blessings in these often-gloomy days!  )O(

A new season

One morning last week brought the first hint of frost to my part of Bristol. Just a teasingly light touch of it on some of the roofs of the streets that surround mine. Winter’s first little stroke, at the end of a grey and chillier week, where more leaves seem to be gracing the ground than the trees now. Autumn’s crispness is turning to a wintery sogginess – in those leaves and in the air. The soil is heavily soggy, clinging to our boots. Damp clings to my coat and condensation to my windows in the mornings. We adjust our routine to factor in putting on more clothes when leaving the house, to get laundry off the line earlier, to draw the curtains before dinner and to spending less time in the garden. We eat more soup. I write in my journal more.

I also feel a shift in my own season, entering the third trimester of my pregnancy round about now. The changes to my body tell me that it’s time to sit a little differently, to sleep and eat a little differently, to adjust how I move and how I lift. To make time to be pregnant – for yoga, for breath work, for just sitting talking to the baby and gently poking my bump whilst it pokes me back. To slow my pace. It’s easy to try to fight this, expecting the same of ourselves whatever the “season” our lives our in (for example, when we’re ill, when we’re menstruating, when we’ve just had a baby, when we’re menopausal). Those around us – and wider society – may perpetuate this disconnection and the lack of opportunity to honour these fluctuations and these rhythms. There’s pressure to just put on a brave face, dose up with painkillers and carry on with all your normal jobs and tasks.

I’m trying to listen to what these new seasons are calling me to do.

November

November is a faded – and fading – image in my mind. Like one of your grandparents’ childhood photos. The light is fading, the calendar year is fading, the temperature is fading and most of the leaves are usually off the trees and starting to rot into the ground. People often describe November as grey, bleak, damp, miserable; rarely anything flattering. It always seems a short month to me and I wonder if really it’s just outshone by its neighbouring months of Orange October and festive December.

WInter starts for me in November, around the vanishing (last quarter) moon, or when nature gives me enough signs to welcome the season in. My favourite season. I learned yesterday that the Anglo-Saxons believed 7th November to be the official start of winter; although where I live hasn’t yet had a frost, this week has certainly felt winter’s kiss.

I’m sure some would argue a case for November glowing rather than fading. A-glow with the bonfire flames on Guy Fawkes Night, the lantern processions at Martinmas, the lights in the windows of homes in the long nights (and dreary days!), and the twinkling Christmas lights in shops windows. In my head, these glows and twinkles create a kind of blurriness around and behind them. Rather than the lights, it’s that fading, blurred image of the background that is what I remember in November. ♥