For keeping faith in the longest dark
Yule is the winter solstice—the longest night, the shortest day. The sun reaches its lowest point in the sky and stands still. The word "solstice" means exactly this: sun standing still. And then, almost imperceptibly, it begins to climb again.
In the old practice, the Yule log was lit at sunset and kept burning through the night—a vigil flame to carry the household through the dark. Evergreens were brought inside as proof that green survives, that life persists even when the world is cold and bare. Holly, ivy, pine: the plants that do not surrender.
Yule asks you to keep vigil. Not to celebrate—that comes later. Not to pretend the dark isn't dark. But to stay. To tend the flame. To trust that the turn will come, even when you cannot see it. The longest night ends. It always ends.
The dark has reached its depth.
I do not rush. I do not flee.
I light the flame and I stay.
I name what I carry.
I wait for the turn.
The sun stands still, and so do I.
From here, the light returns.
I made it through. I am still here.
Your intention: