When the light returns, it begins in the dark.
Winter festive season: An Invitation to Slow Down
Being in a place where Christmas isn’t really a thing – even though the decorations are everywhere – made me reflect on what I actually want to celebrate at this time of year.
And maybe even more honestly: what I truly need to celebrate.
I noticed I’m not missing the Christmas rush.
Not the consumerism.
Not the over-spending, the endless parties, the over-eating, the overstimulation.
Somehow, it all became… inflated.
So big that we often forget – or distract ourselves from – the original essence:
a celebration of light & hope in the darkest & coldest time of the year.
What I do miss is togetherness of families.
And – a tiny bit – the darkness of the European winter season.
Because this is the time when our systems need rest the most.
When our bodies and nervous system long for space – to integrate, to reflect, and to release before renewal.
Yet instead, we push ourselves through another round of expectations.
Another calendar full of obligations.
Another layer of pretending that this is “the most wonderful time of the year,”
even when we feel exhausted, disconnected, or overwhelmed.
We are too busy, people.
Our lives are too busy.
And that’s where winter solstice comes in.
The Wisdom of the Winter Solstice
When I reflected on what does feel meaningful to celebrate now, the answer was clear: the Winter Solstice.
The shortest day.
The darkest night.
The coldest period of the year.
A natural threshold inviting us inward –
to feel what we need,
to reflect on what this year has asked of us,
to release what no longer wants to be carried into the next cycle.
Before we set intentions.
Before we “start again.”
Before we reach for the returning light.
Winter Solstice is the deepest point of the seasonal cycle – the opposite of Summer Solstice.
And in many ways, it mirrors the opposite of ovulation in the menstrual cycle: menstruation.
A time where rest isn’t optional – it’s essential.
A time where non-doing allows life to reorganise itself from the inside out.
Because sustainable growth doesn’t come from constant expansion.
It comes from returning to our essence.
From checking in with ourselves and asking:
Am I still living in alignment with who I am?
Or am I running on external expectations, habits, and pressure?
What Trees Teach Us About Letting Go
I love the metaphor of trees.
Trees don’t cling to their leaves.
They release them – gracefully, instinctively, at the right time.
As the days shorten and temperatures drop, chemical changes signal that it’s time.
The leaves fall, not because the tree is failing – but because it is preparing to endure the winter and make space for what comes next.
Letting go is a strategy for survival – and for long-term thriving.
The tree conserves energy and water during the cold months, when the ground is frozen and resources are scarce.
And what falls away doesn’t disappear – it becomes compost.
Nourishment.
The fertile ground for future growth.
Nature has always known what we often forget:
We need to let go in order to grow.
Our bodies do this continuously.
If they didn’t, we wouldn’t survive very long.
Again, the menstrual cycle being a great example of this cyclical process.
Our minds and nervous systems need to integrate this same wisdom.
If we want to keep evolving, the old must be released.
Outdated identities.
Outdated patterns.
Outdated ways of coping that once served us – but no longer do.
Autumn and winter remind us that we all have out-moded parts of ourselves.
They don’t need to be rejected or shamed.
Like fallen leaves, they can become the compost for something new.
Holding On vs Letting Go
Trees don’t let go of everything.
They keep their roots.
Their trunk.
Their core.
And that’s an important lesson.
Letting go isn’t about giving up or erasing yourself.
It’s about discernment:
What is essential?
What is draining?
What no longer belongs to this season of my life?
We often resist change because we’re afraid of the unknown.
We cling to what feels familiar – even when it’s heavy, even when it limits us.
But nature teaches us something profound:
non-clinging
Not hoarding.
Not grasping.
Not holding onto what is already dead.
In yoga philosophy, this is captured by the beautiful word Aparigraha: non-attachment
When we release our grip – on outcomes, identities, expectations – we create space.
Space for relief in the nervous system.
Space for creativity.
Space for alignment.
Space to come back into our own authority and sovereignty.
Letting go is not about giving up;
it is about releasing the need for control and trusting that life will unfold as it should.
By loosening our grip, we open ourselves to new possibilities and allow life to surprise us.
Letting go isn’t weakness.
It’s wisdom – and a quiet, grounded form of power.
Hibernation is not being lazy
In Winter, trees appear barren.
But beneath the surface, life is very much happening.
Energy is being conserved.
Roots are deepening.
The trees are prepping to burst with new life in the next season.
The same is true for us.
Periods of dormancy in our lives are not voids to rush & push through.
They are times of integration, regeneration, healing, and inner preparation.
When we stop demanding constant productivity from ourselves,
we begin to hear what truly matters.
Winter teaches patience.
Letting go is gradual.
It cannot be forced.
And winter teaches trust.
That after darkness, light returns.
That spring always comes.
prompts
🌀 As we move into the darkest days of the year this Sunday, I invite you to pause and reflect:
How do you relate to winter?
Do you allow yourself to live at the opposite point of summer?
Or do you expect yourself to show up in the same way, with the same energy, every day?
How do you relate to rest?
Can you rest more when you need to?
Can you take a nap without guilt or the feeling that it’s a loss of your time?
Why (not)?
Do you have space to return to your essence this festive season?
Where can you give yourself 1% more rest and 1% more of space?
✨ When created this space and rest, you could continue to reflect on:
5 moments or experiences from 2025 worth celebrating
5 lessons you learned in 2025
5 skills you deepened in 2025
5 moments where you conquered yourself in 2025
5 moments where you felt most alive in 2025
❤️🔥 And, finally, ask yourself:
What am I holding onto that prevents me from growing?
Or perhaps… what am I holding back from stepping into?
Letting go can feel scary.
Sometimes it feels like a small death.
But it is also the doorway to growth, empowerment, love, and renewal.
Just as trees know that spring will come,
so can we.
To close,
I’m wishing you a winter season that feels warm, nourishing, and honest.
May you find your own balance between rest and celebration.
Between reflection and renewal.
Between darkness and the returning light.
With love,
Stéphanie 🌙🌞
Awareness. Embodiment. Alignment. Transformation.
