Make Sit Happen: We Make The Light | For This Winter’s Day

Join me for a calming guided meditation where we explore the quiet beauty of winter. Together, we make “sit” happen, creating a space for stillness amid the busyness of life. With the soft glow of a candle and Katherine May’s reflective words as our inspiration, we’ll journey inward to connect with the rhythms of this season.

Through grounding practices and mindful breathing, we’ll honor the winter’s lessons of rest, deceleration, and tending to our roots. You'll learn to invite all aspects of yourself—thoughts, feelings, and sensations—into the present moment, cultivating a sense of belonging within.

Key Takeaways:

• Practice inclusivity by inviting your feelings and thoughts to "sit" with you.

• Connect with your inner light and explore how it flourishes in the quiet margins of winter.

• Embrace winter’s lesson of slowing down and honoring stillness.

• Reflect on nurturing your roots and keeping the sun’s energy alive through light and silence.

May you leave this meditation with peace, kindness, and a renewed connection to the steady heartbeat of life.

Katherine May

An incantation for solstice eve

The year crawls toward its end.
We wake in darkness.

The solstice is not a single moment.
Sol stit: the sun stops.
The sun reaches its furthest point and rests there until
New Year.

In this long solstice, we do the sun's work while it rests.
We keep it alive in fire and candlelight, in song and silence.
In the dark of midwinter, we make the light.

Time slows to treacle.
We are taught our lesson of deceleration, of contemplation,
of contact with life's still heartbeat.

Life above ground hangs in suspension.
In subterranean darkness, we tend to our roots.

The year dies softly as it sleeps.
We cradle its rebirth.

May we allow the sun to rest.
May we allow time to fall still.
May we discover what flourishes in the quiet margins of the year.

TRANSCRIPT

Thanks for joining me for a guided meditation. This is where we make sit happen. It's never convenient. There's always a 1000000 other things. So I'm honored you're here.

Let's practice. I will start and finish this guided meditation with the sound of a bell. We are exploring this winter day, today, right now, tonight, whichever part of this winter day or evening or night, you are meeting me. I have a candle lit. And we are contemplating and working with words by Katherine May.

And I, of course, am improvising, riffing, playing music with the words as I guide you on a meditation. Find a comfortable seat, drop into your body, drop into this moment right now. And in this present moment, practice inclusivity where you invite all your feelings as they are, any of the thoughts or the narrative as they're playing the mind, the body, the soul, let them all be here, invite them to come home, give them a place and a practice and a seat to belong to. Plant both your feet if you're able to on the ground. Left foot, right foot, left foot, right foot.

Drop your shoulders. Relax your neck, forehead. Follow the breath all the way in and follow the breath all the way out. On this winter day, we do the sun's work while the sun rests. It's winter.

As we do the sun's work, we keep it alive in fire, in candlelight, in song, and in silence. It's normal and natural to be somewhere else in thought, in mind, with your emotions, your plans. Start again, come back, invite yourself back here. In the dark of winter and midwinter, we make the light. Connect with that inner light within your inner world, where within your body inside, do you sense and notice and mark the light, your light?

In the winter time slows to treacle, and we are taught our lesson of deceleration, contemplation of contact with life's still heartbeat. Imagine, sense your being and body and self connecting with life's steady heartbeat. On this winter day, life above ground hangs in suspension. And in subterranean darkness below ground, we tend to our roots. Repeat the following phrases to yourself: May I allow the sun to rest.

May I allow the sun to rest. May I allow time to fall still. May I allow time to fall still? May I discover what flourishes in the quiet margins of this season? May I discover what flourishes in the quiet margins of this season?

Bringing your attention back to the space that you're in. Gentle gentle invitation to consider one last idea on this winter day. You make the light. May you go in peace with kindness and ease and flow.