Winter Solstice has been honored for thousands of years because it marks a precise and powerful moment in the earth’s rhythm—
the shortest day and the longest night of the year.

WINTER SOLSTICE RITUAL — WELCOMING THE RETURNING LIGHT

A gentle practice to help the body soften, unwind tension, and bring awareness to where anxiety may be hiding.

Sharp, grounding, and clarifying, this ancient herb helps you hear your truth again—then guards it with quiet strength.

In late autumn, bears begin slipping into hibernation—not on a precise date, but when the world around them shifts. As daylight fades, temperatures drop, and food becomes more challenging to find, these furry beings naturally read these cues and choose to go inward.

Each year, I notice how my body does something similar.

Winter asks the body to soften, but that softening can feel unsettling when our nervous system is used to a faster pace. In this month’s Gentle Science piece, we explore how changes in light, melatonin, serotonin, and the pineal gland shape our anxiety in early winter—and why these sensations are not a sign of something wrong, but a sign that your body is recalibrating.

The body is always listening. Every breath, every heartbeat, every subtle shift in muscle tone reflects the signals it receives from the world around and within us. When awareness softens into appreciation — that quiet state of connection and coherence — the body mirrors it through rhythm, chemistry, and calm.

Developed by Positive Psychology founder Dr. Martin Seligman, Three Good Things is a gentle reflection that helps the mind remember moments of goodness and the body settle into balance.

Nadi Shodhana, or alternate-nostril breathing, is said to purify the body’s energy channels — the nadis — creating harmony between the right and left sides of the brain.

For me, gratitude isn’t a list or a command. It’s not something I can force myself to feel or prove by writing it down. Gratitude, to me, is more like a quiet relationship between body, breath, and being — a conversation that unfolds when I slow down enough to listen.

Once labeled a weed, Dandelion teaches us the art of reclamation — how to rise again, rooted in truth, even after being cut down.

Twice each year, the world pauses in balance. Day and night meet as equals — light and dark holding one another. This brief moment, the Equinox, reminds us that balance is not static but a rhythm.

I wish someone had told me that trauma and anxiety are deeply interwoven — creating strong, misunderstood emotions that are not signs of weakness, but signals of something deeper. Together, they are informational.

Oat invites rest, softness, and the kind of slow restoration that can only come from consistent care.

Some women describe feeling vulnerable, as if letting go of this deep muscle might cause them to “fall apart.”

We go through life changes because if we didn’t, well we wouldn’t be living.

Herbs offer more than symptom relief. Many have been used for centuries to calm the nervous system, build resilience, and restore balance — gently and respectfully.

Dandelion reminds us that even what is cast aside can root deep, rise bright, and scatter seeds of healing on the wind.

Within freeze mode, the hyper-arousal from the fight/flight response remains hidden in the body. To return to homeostasis, one must first navigate back through the fight/flight state.

And when we slow down enough to listen, the body begins to reveal itself.

The verb “balance” means to keep or position something steadily so it doesn’t fall.