Winter Solstice: An invitation to gestate
The Winter Solstice is a time often hailed as the return of the light: On the darkest day of the year, the Sun metaphorically is born again. A seed of possibility is planted during the shortest day of the year, taking root in the darkness, symbolically being born at the Vernal Equinox and coming to fullness during the Summer Solstice and Harvested during the Autumnal Equinox. Even in today’s world, so filled with artificial light, we instinctively align ourselves in relationship to the changing seasons, marked by the movement of the Sun.
The root of the word solstice comes from the Latin solstitium, "point at which the sun seems to stand still," and nowhere is that more appropriate than in the quiet, velvety darkness of this time of year. New growth always begins in darkness; winter is a time of gestation.
While we are gestating, it often seems as though nothing is happening, yet hidden deep inside us, all manner of things are occurring.
In our charts, the Sun and Moon are the lights. The Sun is the light of the day, and the Moon is the light of the night. The Sun is the giver of life, and the Moon is our home. Our Sun shows the path forward, and our Moon illuminates our past pathways and embodied experiences. The Sun is steady and visible as it sharts its path across the sky, mirroring our experience of daily life: During the daytime, we can fairly easily see the outer landscape; it is clearer where we are heading. However, the light is different at night, softer, and we cannot see as clearly. Like us, the Moon is ever-changing and not alone in the night sky; when we view the stars, we can imagine multitudes of worlds just as there are multitudes within us. As Walt Whitman said in his epic poem Leaves of Grass, “Do I contradict myself? Very well then I contradict myself, (I am large, I contain multitudes)”
The multitudes within us carry so much possibility, but we must allow them to gestate and develop so that they can see the light of day. This is the power of the Winter Solstice.
It’s funny; there is no real synonym for the word gestate. Grammatically, it is the verb form of the noun gestation. Which had an additional, early meaning I was not aware of, including being associated with riding on horseback because its Latin root gestationem (nominative gestatio) means "a carrying," noun of action from past-participle stem of gestare "bear, carry, gestate," frequentative of gerere (past participle gestus) "to bear, carry, bring forth” ultimately coming down to the root gest. Which then connects to the word gesture. Which too is a form of embodiment.
When gestating spiritually, we are preparing to embody something new within our lives, whether it is a creative project, a new pathway we are hoping to head down, or anything we wish to make real within the world. The Winter Solstice takes place when the Sun moves into Capricorn, a cardinal earth sign that offers an initiation/invitation to make something real. But first, we must mirror the season and just like nature pull our energy within so that it can be focused on the new life that bursts forth at the Vernal Equinox.
The more we practice savoring periods of both solitude and silence, making it a priority within our lives, the more we are able to connect with our own vastness. The more we embrace our darkness, the unknown frontiers within; we come to understand that it can hold us, cradle us in its womb, and nurture us into a new life. What you nourish, the new life within pulling at you, is in many ways fulfilling a promise that, in some gorgeous, mysterious your soul planted long ago.
We need both the light and the dark. The Solstice is a time when light and dark are equally balanced. Celebrate and ground in this singular moment of your life as we move into the uncharted territory of 2025.
This Solstice, I am overflowing with gratitude. Thank you all for the attention, curiosity, and support you have given me. It has opened me in ways I could not have imagined a few years ago.
Happy Holidays,
Mindy
