Let the Darkness Hold You

Rituals. Rest. And letting the universe do it's part.

Come sit with me for a moment.

Imagine we’re on your couch or saddled up around the kitchen table, warm mugs full of our favorites in hand. Mine likely is cacao (currently mixing up some Kakao with Maya Moon’s Aphrodisiac Blend). The light is low, the world feels quieter than usual, and neither of us is trying to fix anything.

That’s winter solstice energy BB.

The longest night of the year isn’t here to motivate you or inspire a breakthrough. It’s not asking you to set goals or get clearer or be better. Thank god right. Can we just get one minute where we don’t have to look ahead, dream big, be the boss, etc.

All it’s asking you is to rest.

Like, actually rest. Not “I’ll rest once I’m done” rest. Real rest.

The Dark Isn’t a Problem
It’s a Container

I think we forget this sometimes. Darkness isn’t failure. It’s where things get held.

Seeds don’t grow in constant light and bodies don’t restore in constant output. The solstice is the earth reminding us that slowing down is not quitting. It’s intelligent. I mean, just look at nature right now… what is she doing?

And honestly? Most of us are exhausted from carrying too much for too long.

Which brings me to one of my favorite solstice rituals. It’s simple, old, and surprisingly relieving… but does require a little dreaming, scheming moment…

The 13 Things/Wishes/Dreams/Goals Ritual(aka: You Don’t Have to Do It All)

And I am not even sure that’s what it’s call. It’s just how I refer to it.

What you’ll need:

  • Pen + paper

  • A candle

  • Matches or a lighter

  • A fire-safe bowl

  • Your favorite dish, jar, or container

How I Prepare

(there is nothing that says this works better or worse than anything you do)

Like all good rituals, I start by setting not just the space, but myself.

If I have the time, I love an Epsom salt bath with a dash of Florida Water. A little salt scrub. Washing my face. Maybe even a mask. I like to feel clean in that energetic way, like I’ve rinsed off anything that might get in the way of clarity or focus.

Then I’ll make a warm cup of cacao, infuse it with Reiki, and set my intention for the ritual. I light candles. Invite in any guides or spirits who wish to be present. Turn on soft, reassuring instrumental music. Essentially I am trying to woo myself here.

From there, I take a few deep breaths, usually three, but sometimes more, sometimes less. There’s no magic number here. Take as many or as few as you need. You’ll know when you are ready.

Once I feel present, I reflect on the year behind me and then gently let my attention move toward the year ahead and what I want to call in.

The Writing Part

Write 13 wishes, dreams, intentions, goals…whatever word resonates with you, do that.

Thirteen things you want to see, feel, experience, or become in 2026. They can be big or small, silly or bold… if it comes up, write it down.

A quick note I probably should’ve said first:

Make sure each wish is on its own piece of paper. Or leave enough space so you can cut them out…you’ll want them separated. Trust.

Once they’re written, take each piece of paper and fold it tightly, one by one, so you can’t see what’s written. Place all 13 into your favorite dish, jar, or container.

The Releasing

Starting tonight!

For the next 12 nights (with the winter solstice as night one, TONIGHT), you burn one piece of paper each night.

Don’t open it. Don’t peek. Just pull one from the container and burn it.

This is the part where you let the universe take over. Whatever that wish was, it’s being handled. Release it. Trust it. Let it go.

The One You Keep

On the 13th night, the final wish is yours. Open it.

Some people see this as the biggest focus of the year, or the intention of the year. I see it as a reminder that not everything is our responsibility. Some things need tending. Others just need space.

I like to keep this final wish in my journal all year long, checking in with it, letting it guide me, returning to it when I feel untethered or unsure.

It becomes a quiet through-line. A north star. A soft anchor.

Just remember, you don’t have to do it all. You were never meant to. Leave some things to the universe, it’s got your best interest in mind. Promise.

If Fire Isn’t Your Thing, That’s Okay

There are a million quiet ways to honor this night.

You could:

  • Light one candle (I know, fire, but more contained!) and sit with it for as long as you’d like. I also love lighting a candle, carrying it through each room in my house. Imaging that I am clearing out the old energy and welcoming in the new light of the year as it moves through the house.

  • Take a hot shower and imagine the year washing off you. This is what I was hinting at earlier: salt scrub, warm water, slow breaths. When I’m done, I like to watch the water go down the drain and picture the year being gifted back to the earth, transmuted into something useful for someone else.

  • Go to bed earlier than usual and not explain yourself. Pro Tip: This doesn’t need to be winter solstice thing, this can be an anytime thing.

There’s no gold star for doing any of this.

The ritual is the listening.

Rest Isn’t Just for Tonight

Here’s the thing I really want you to hear…

The solstice isn’t just about this night.

It’s a reminder that rest is meant to happen every night.

In a culture that praises discipline and performance, choosing rest is a quiet rebellion. A devotional act. A way of saying I trust myself enough to stop. Do you?

You don’t need to earn sleep.

You don’t need to prove you deserve softness.

How I’m Honoring This Solstice

Tonight, my plan is very unglamorous and very sacred.

Lights low.

Body horizontal.

I’m opening the space for a free Goodnight Reiki because this feels like the most honest way I know to honor the solstice. By resting together. By letting ourselves be held. By ending the day gently.

If you want to join me, you’re so welcome.

No experience needed. No expectations. Just lie down and receive.

If not, that’s okay too.

Take this as your permission slip to log off, drink some water, and let tonight be slow.

The dark knows what it’s doing.

Sometimes the bravest thing you can do is rest and let the rest be handled for you.

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I Don't Want to Regulate Anymore. I Want to Feel