Late post - Winter solstice

My last post has been quite a while, but I hope to go back to writing regularily in 2010 again. The post for today is late, too, because it is a pathworking for winter solstice, or Yule.

Right now, it is dark, very dark. Many people now leave their houses in the morning when it is still dark and return in the evening, when it is dark again. It is during this time of the year that we have time for slowing down, for introspection, because the lack of light keeps us in our homes. Of course, this is less true in our world full of artificial light, but it is still noticeable.
The days grow shorter and shorter and we long for the return of the sun. Then, at the winter solstice, it is time: The sun child is born, and brings with it the promise of light and life returning. Even though we know that it is a long time until spring, we rejoice and celebrate the promise that it will return.


Pathworking Winter Solstice

Make yourself comfortable. Take some deep breaths and relax. Let go of stress, anger, anxiety.
Close your eyes and go to your safe place.
It is gloomy today. Turn around and look for a door. It is there, quite unobtrusive, with an eight spoked wheel engraved. Open the door. It is night on the other side, you can see some stars that give at least some illumination. Before you, there is a path through a winter forest, covered in fresh snow. Follow that path. It leads you through the forest, among huge trees. There are animal tracks in the snow everywhere, from the tini signs left by a bird hopping on the ground, to big paw tracks.
Strangely, most of the tracks seem to be leading into the direction where you are heading.
The area is hilly, and your path leads you downwards, getting steeper. ... You reach the bottom of the descent, and the trees give way to a wide open meadow. The edges at the meadow are filled by the animals whose tracks you have seen – and a lot more. Fortunately, the leopard and the bear are at the far end of the meadow, peacefully besides each other. Everybody is quiet, and peaceful, as if they are waiting fore something. You ask the squirrel next to you what is happening, ant it answers: “Can't you see it? There – the Goddess gives birth to the new sun.” It points across the meadow, and indeed there is a hushed light coming from the entrance of a cave. “And hight time, if you ask me, too.”
You join the animals in their silent vigil and watch the entrance of the cave. It is still night, but dawn seems to be setting in, and it is slowly getting brighter.
Suddenly, the light at the entrance of the cave grows brilliant, and at the same time, the first rays of the sun cross the horizon. You hear the animals cheer the birth of the sun.
A woman leaves the cave, carrying a baby on her arms. It seems to be the source of light from the cave, it radiates a warm light. The Goddess looks tired. She addresses everyone present: “Behold Him, the reborn Sun. From now on, the light shall grow in strength, until it is time for the dark to return.”
The baby stretches its arms towards the sun, and it seems as if the sun stretches its rays towards the child. The cold of the snow is forgotten, and you watch the display. ...
It is time to return. Slip away silently. You realize that a lot of the animals have done the same, pusuing their own business once they have seen proof of the return of the sun. You follow the path that led you there, up the hill and through the forest, until you stand before the door again. You open the door and return to your safe place. ...
From here, return to your body. Take some breaths to return and readjust. Count from 10 to 1. Open your eyes. Welcome back.