Amethyst Whispers

12/19/2025

Blessing for the Longest Night

“All throughout these months
as the shadows have lengthened,
this blessing has been gathering itself,
making ready, preparing for this night.

It has practiced walking in the dark,
traveling with its eyes closed,
feeling its way by memory by touch
by the pull of the moon even as it wanes.

So believe me when I tell you this blessing
will reach you even if you have not light enough to read it;
it will find you even though you cannot see it coming.

You will know the moment of its arriving by your
release of the breath you have held so long;
a loosening of the clenching in your hands,
of the clutch around your heart;
a thinning of the darkness that had drawn itself around you.

This blessing does not mean to take the night away
it knows its hidden roads,
knows the resting spots along the path,
knows what it means to travel in the company of a friend.

So when this blessing comes, take its hand.

Get up. Set out on the road you cannot see.

This is the night when you can trust that any direction you go,
you will be walking toward the dawn.”

~ Jan Richardson,
© Jan Richardson
janrichardson.com

Art: Kendra Hirons, “To the Light”
Kendra Hirons

12/17/2025

💕

12/15/2025

Beautiful cards pulled this morning 💕

12/15/2025

12/15/2025

12/12/2025

12/08/2025

12/08/2025

Long before Christmas, long before calendars mapped the year into neat months and weeks, people across Northern Europe marked the turning of the year with Yule, the festival of the midwinter sun. It was a time when the nights were longest, the earth deepest in sleep, and the promise of returning light shimmered just beyond the horizon.

Yule was not a single day but a season—a sacred pause. Fires were lit, evergreen boughs were hung, and feasts were shared, honoring the sun’s slow return and the cycles of life and death that governed the land. It was a time of reflection, protection, and renewal, when households cleared out old energies and called blessings into their homes for the coming year.

The ancient Norse and Germanic peoples celebrated with ritual and revelry. In some tales, Odin himself rode across the skies during Yule, leading the Wild Hunt, a procession of spirits and ancestors that reminded people of the thin veil between worlds. In Celtic and Druidic traditions, Yule honored the rebirth of the sun, with symbols of light—candles, torches, and golden fruits—offered to guide the returning warmth.

Evergreen trees, now so entwined with modern winter celebrations, were originally symbols of eternal life, standing green against the decay of winter. Holly, ivy, mistletoe—plants that survive frost—were hung in homes to invite protection and resilience. Feasting, storytelling, and song filled the long nights, binding communities together against the darkness.

In modern practice, Yule invites us to pause, reflect, and honor the rhythms of nature rather than the calendar alone. It is a time to light candles, decorate with symbols of endurance and abundance, and mark the turning of the sun with small rituals of gratitude, intention, and connection.

Reflection Questions for Yule:
~What are you ready to release as the year turns?
~Where can you invite light, warmth, or growth into your life during the longest nights?
~Which traditions—old or new—help you feel connected to the cycles of the year?

Yule reminds us that even in darkness, light is returning. The season is a time between endings and beginnings, a pause to honor the past, and a call to step into the year ahead with awareness, intention, and reverence.