The winter solstice is the longest night of the year—the moment when darkness reaches its peak and the light begins its slow, steady return. For thousands of years, humans have gathered on this night to mark the turning of the wheel, to honor what has passed, and to welcome back the sun. We light candles in the dark. We burn fires to remind ourselves that warmth and brightness will return. We celebrate not because the hard part is over, but because we've made it this far.

Yule, as this sabbat is known in many earth-based traditions, falls around December 21st or 22nd (in 2026 it is December 21st). It's a threshold moment—a pause between the exhale of autumn and the inhale of a new solar year. And in that pause, there's an invitation: to turn inward, to reflect on what we've carried through the darkness, and to consciously choose what light we want to kindle as the days begin to lengthen again.

This isn't about forced positivity or pretending the darkness doesn't exist. The solstice teaches us that darkness is necessary. It's the soil where seeds wait. It's the rest that makes growth possible. It's the shadow that gives light its meaning. But it also teaches us that we have the power to create warmth and illumination even in the deepest dark—not by denying the night, but by honoring it and tending our own inner fire with intention.

This Yule, I'm inviting you to create a simple tarot ritual that honors both: the darkness you've moved through and the light you're ready to call back in.

Creating Your Solstice Altar

Altars don't need to be elaborate or Instagram-perfect. They're simply intentional spaces—physical anchors for the work you're doing internally. For Yule, you're creating a space that holds the energy of the solstice: the balance of dark and light, the stillness of winter, the promise of return.

Here's what you might include, using whatever speaks to you and whatever you have on hand:

Candles are central to any Yule altar. White or gold candles represent the returning sun, but you might also include a dark blue or black candle to honor the night. If you only have tea lights, that's perfect. The point is the flame—the living light you're tending.

Evergreens like cedar, juniper, or pine bring the energy of endurance and continuity. They stay green through winter, reminding us that life persists even when it seems dormant. A small sprig is enough.

Crystals that resonate with solstice energy might include sodalite or lapis lazuli (for inner wisdom and reflection), turquoise (for protection and balance), or clear quartz (for clarity and light). But don't feel you need to go buy anything—if you have a stone that feels right to you, use that.

Seasonal herbs and spices like star anise, bay leaves, or cinnamon can represent warmth, wishes, and the unfolding of cycles. Bay leaves are especially potent for Yule rituals—write a word or intention on one and burn it as an offering.

Symbols of the season might include an hourglass (for time and cycles), feathers or arrows (for direction and focus), or anything that represents both the ending of one cycle and the beginning of another.

You don't need all of these. You don't need any of these if they don't resonate. Your altar might be a windowsill with a candle and a rock you found on a walk. It might be a corner of your desk with your tarot deck and a mug of tea. What matters is that it feels like a threshold space—a place where you can pause and turn inward.

Arrange your items in a way that feels balanced to you. Light your candle(s). Take a few breaths. Let yourself arrive.

The "Light in the Dark" Tarot Spread

This six-card spread is designed to help you honor where you've been, acknowledge where you are, and clarify what light you're ready to kindle as the wheel turns. You can do this spread on the solstice itself, or any time during the days surrounding it when you have space for reflection.

Before you begin, take a moment to ground yourself. Feel your body in the chair, your feet on the floor. Notice your breath. Shuffle your deck while holding the energy of the solstice in your awareness—this longest night, this turning point, this invitation to both rest and renewal.

When you're ready, lay out six cards in two columns of three:

Column 1: The Darkness (What I'm Honoring)

• Card 1 – What I carried through the dark: This card represents what you've been holding, processing, or enduring during the darker months. It might be a challenge, a loss, a fear, or simply the weight of the year. This isn't about judging it as good or bad—it's about acknowledging it.
• Card 2 – What the darkness taught me: Every season of struggle or stillness offers wisdom. What lesson, insight, or understanding emerged from the hard parts? What did you learn about yourself, about life, about what matters?
• Card 3 – What I'm ready to release: As the light returns, what are you ready to let go of? This might be a pattern, a belief, a relationship to something that no longer serves you. The solstice is a natural time for release—what do you want to leave behind in the longest night?

Column 2: The Light (What I'm Kindling)

• Card 4 – The light I'm calling back: This card shows you the energy, quality, or focus you're ready to invite into your life as the days lengthen. What do you want more of? What part of yourself is ready to emerge or be expressed?
• Card 5 – How I tend this flame: This is your guidance card—the action, practice, or perspective that will help you nurture and sustain the light you're calling in. How do you keep this fire burning?
• Card 6 – 12: This card represents what becomes possible when you honor both the dark and the light—the blessing, the outcome, or the transformation that waits on the other side of this turning.

Take your time with each card. Journal about what you see. Notice not just the traditional meanings, but the images, colors, and feelings that arise. Let the cards speak to your specific experience of this year, this season, this moment.

If a card confuses you or feels difficult, that's okay. Sit with it. Sometimes the most challenging cards are the ones we need most.

Working with the Spread: Reflection and Ritual

Once you've laid out and interpreted your cards, consider taking the ritual a step deeper:

For Card 3 (What I'm ready to release): Write down what you're releasing on a bay leaf or a small piece of paper. Burn it safely in a cauldron, bowl, or outside, watching the smoke carry it away. As it burns, say aloud or silently: I release this with gratitude for what it taught me. It no longer serves my path forward.

For Card 4 (The light I'm calling back): Write down the quality or energy you're calling in. Place this word or phrase on your altar where you'll see it regularly. Let it be a reminder of what you're tending.

For Card 5 (How I tend this flame): Translate this card into one concrete action you can take in the days and weeks ahead. If the card is The Star, maybe you commit to a practice of hope or creativity. If it's the Four of Swords, maybe you protect your rest. Make it specific and doable.

For Card 6 (The gift of returning light): Sit with this card as a meditation. Visualize yourself receiving this gift. Feel what it would be like to embody this energy fully. Let yourself imagine a future where this blessing is already present in your life.

The Invitation to Rest, Reflect, and Rekindle

Here's what I want you to know: Yule doesn't require you to have everything figured out. It doesn't ask you to be healed, complete, or ready to charge into the new year with perfect clarity and unstoppable momentum.

The solstice invites you to rest. To be still. To acknowledge that you've been walking through the dark, and it's been hard, and you're tired. That's not failure. That's being human in winter.

It also invites you to reflect—not in a punishing, self-critical way, but with curiosity and compassion. What happened this year? What changed you? What did you survive? What surprised you? Reflection isn't about judgment; it's about witnessing your own journey with honesty.

And finally, it invites you to rekindle. Not to become someone new, but to remember the fire that's always been inside you—the part of you that persists, that hopes, that creates, that loves even when it's hard. The light isn't something you need to find outside yourself. It's already there. You're just choosing to tend it again.

December is busy and full and often overwhelming. You might not have time for an elaborate ritual. You might barely have time to light a candle and pull a few cards. That's enough. The solstice doesn't need your perfection. It just needs your presence.

So light your candle. Lay out your cards. Ask yourself what you're ready to release and what you're ready to call back in. Honor the darkness that held you. Welcome the light that's returning.

The longest night is also the turning point. You've made it this far. The sun is coming back. And so are you.