midwinter rites
Bonds of spirit, bonds of sisterhood. That is the glue that binds us together. In our blood and bones the cosmic web of life thrives.
Cocooned in the wintering womb of Gaia, earth goddess, mother nature — our inner self and all of creation hibernates within — infinite and insulated.
All allied and at One — mind, body, soul — identity incarnate. In the bosom of an ever expanding cosmos augmenting the power of incubation.
At Yule time wisdom and gnosis are birthed anew — blooming forth as the sun rises. Gestation and timing are held sacred. We surrender in trust and faith, flow in grace, grow in womanhood.
This year my sisters and I purchased burled wood urns for the babies lost in our family. In a dream a vision of an unborn child came and named himself to us. A surprisingly sweet Christmas gift we are eternally grateful for.
A child is loved always but in times of pain and loss we are opened up and left raw — longing to escape the tragedy. It could take years to embrace the moment and return to the memory of the beloved.
Still painful but ever grateful. A rite of burial to return to peace. Soothed by the strength of our bond — now and forever.
Every year on December 20 to 23 the sun reaches the most southerly point on the horizon — appearing to rise in the same location for a few days. Solstice literally means standstill of the sun — where the sunrise appears to do just this.
Christmas marks the time when the sun is reborn and longer days return with the solar orb beginning to move northwards on the horizon — heading towards the spring equinox and summer solstice as this year winds down.
Blessings to all!
Originally published at http://diywellbeing.blogspot.com.
