Yule - The Quiet Return of the Light

Winter Solstice Reflections & A Simple Candle Ritual

There is a moment each year when the Earth pauses.

The Winter Solstice marks the longest night and the shortest day — the deepest descent into darkness before the slow, almost imperceptible return of the light. The Earth, still in her resting phase, does not announce herself with urgency or force. It happens quietly, beneath the surface, in the unseen places.

For our ancestors, this moment mattered deeply. Candles were lit. Fires were tended. Not because they feared the darkness, but to honour it, and to remember that light is born from within it.

Yule reminds us that darkness is the beginning of all creation. It is the womb. The place of rest. The place where life gathers its strength.

 

The Inner Solstice

Nature moves in cycles, and so do we.

Just as the Earth turns inward during winter, we too are invited to soften our pace, to listen more closely, and to release what has grown heavy over the year. This season does not ask us to strive or become — it asks us to be.

To sit with what is.

To acknowledge what has ended.

To make gentle space for what wishes to emerge in time.

In a world that often demands constant light, productivity, and motion, Yule offers a different wisdom:

Rest is sacred. Stillness is fertile.

A Simple Yule Candle Ritual

This is a ritual of remembrance rather than effort.

It can be practised on the Solstice itself, or anytime throughout winter when you feel the call to return to yourself.

What you’ll need

• A natural candle (beeswax if possible)
  
  
• Matches or a lighter
  
  
• A quiet space where you won’t be disturbed
  
  

The Practice

Place your candle somewhere safe and grounded. Allow yourself a moment to arrive fully in the space.

Before lighting the flame, pause.

Ask yourself gently:

• What am I ready to release from the year that has passed?
  
  
• What feels tender, hopeful, or quietly alive within me right now?
  
  

Light the candle.

Take a slow breath in through your nose, and release it softly through your mouth.

Repeat this a few times, allowing your body to settle.

As you sit with the flame, imagine it as a symbol of the returning light — not something you must chase, but something that is already finding its way back to you.

If thoughts arise, let them come and go like shadows passing across snow.

There is nothing to fix. Nothing to force.

When you feel complete, you may allow the candle to burn a little longer, or extinguish it with gratitude and return to it again another day. Some people choose to revisit this practice daily, letting the candle slowly burn down over the course of winter.

Trust your own rhythm.

 

 

The Gift of the Dark

Yule teaches us that life does not move in straight lines.

There are seasons of expansion, and seasons of contraction.

Times of clarity, and times of unknowing.

In the deepest dark of the year, the smallest flame carries the greatest meaning.

May this Solstice remind you that even when you cannot yet see what lies ahead, something within you already knows the way.

The light is returning.

Quietly. Faithfully. In its own time.

Winter Solstice blessings.