The winter solstice is the longest night of the year — and one of the most powerful thresholds on the calendar.
If you’re in a season of transition, this is your night. A night for honoring what’s ending, sitting with what’s unknown, and opening to what’s beginning.
Here’s a simple practice you can do alone or with others. It takes about 30 minutes, though you’re welcome to linger.
Turn off overhead lights. Light your candle. Sit somewhere comfortable.
Take a few slow breaths. Let your body settle. You don’t need to feel peaceful or “ready.” Just present.
Acknowledge the night: This is the longest darkness of the year. I am here for it.
The solstice marks a turning point — but before we turn toward light, we honor what the dark has held.
Write or reflect on these questions:
You don’t need to write a lot. A word, a phrase, a knowing.
If you have something physical to release — a written word you can burn, an object you can bury or throw away, a leaf you can crumble — hold it now. Thank it. Let it go.
This is the part we usually skip. But the solstice asks us to stay here.
Blow out your candle. Sit in the darkness.
This is the in-between: the space where what was is gone, and what will be hasn’t yet arrived. You don’t need to do anything here. Just be with it.
Notice what arises. Discomfort? Relief? Grief? Possibility? Let it all be here.
When you’re ready — not rushing, but ready — light your candle again.
With the flame lit, turn toward what’s coming.
Write or reflect:
Don’t force an answer. If nothing comes, write: I am open to what’s emerging. I trust the turning.
Place your hand on your heart. Offer yourself a moment of recognition:
I am here, in the dark and the light. I am in transition. I am still becoming.
Let the candle burn as long as you like. When you’re ready, blow it out — carrying the intention forward.
This practice is beautiful done alone, but it’s also powerful in circle — each woman sharing what she’s releasing, what she’s welcoming, while others witness.
If you gather with others, keep it simple: share the questions, give each woman space to respond (or pass), and resist the urge to fix or advise. Witnessing is enough.
The solstice reminds us that darkness is not failure. It’s not stuckness. It’s not something to be solved.
It’s the necessary precursor to light.
Whatever transition you’re in — whatever is ending, unknown, or just beginning — tonight is your threshold. Honor it.
The light returns tomorrow. But tonight, the dark is yours.
Terri Altschul is a depth coach working with women in the second half of life. If you’re navigating a transition and want a companion for the journey, learn more at terri.coach.
Terri Altschul is an ICF PCC—a Professional Certified Coach with more than 30 years of experience and thousands of coaching hours. She works exclusively with women in the second half of life, drawing on Jungian depth psychology to guide women across the threshold into wholeness. Her gift is holding space for what’s emerging—and helping you become who you haven’t yet been.