Winter returns us to ourselves. Distractions fall away as the nights grow long.
We spend more time inside — inside our homes, and inside ourselves.
Winter is a soulful season.
We are remade as we drift into our depths. We encounter what has been hidden.
We sense into the great mystery of life: why are we here, and what is our purpose?

What will we seed?
We may touch into old sorrows or seed new possibilities.
We may discover a well of creativity.
For my artist mother Emily Jackson, winter was her painting season. She loved the wild weather as it swept over dark landscapes.
(The painting at the header of this newsletter is one of hers from the Northland Winter series.)
Ancestry
We may seed a quest such as exploring our ancestry: who are we, and where did we come from?
This winter I discovered a family secret: a child who was born to my father’s parents but never spoken about. Dorothy died in 1907 at six days old and lies in an unmarked grave in New Plymouth.
I felt sad that this family sorrow was never brought to light. The discovery has seeded understanding about the life of that family and the impact of the hidden loss on my father and others.
Winter’s invitation into the quiet gave me the time and courage to journey into this mystery and find the truth.
Maybe you too will take on a winter quest?

Watching for the sun
At winter solstice, we mark the turning of the light.
My ancestors watched for the return of the sun, using posts or stones for accuracy. Once they knew for certain that the sun had ‘turned’, they rejoiced and feasted, sang and danced.
This is the bright spark of winter solstice: the joy of security as the sun returns.
Rituals to mark the return of the sun are still relevant today. And so I offer one for you. It begins with two questions for contemplation.

Two questions for winter solstice
What is your experience of the winter dark this year?
What hope might you kindle or seed with the return of the light?
A ritual for winter solstice
To Prepare:
Create an altar on a dark cloth.
Add symbols of winter, including discoveries from nature.
Set up a circle of candles, ready for lighting.
Contemplate the two questions:
For the first question, sit in darkness with friends or family as you hum together and feel into your experience of the dark.
For the second question, name your hope and light a candle.
As your candles flare and you feel the warmth and light in your hearts, sing a song of welcome or rejoicing.

A blessing
May you find courage in times of darkness.
May you find hope in the returning light.
May the light grow in your heart over the weeks to come.
May nature show you signs of new life.

A note about the painting
The painting shown at the top of this newsletter is called Northland Winter 7.
If you would like to find out more about the paintings of Emily Jackson available to the public, take a look at the website Emily Jackson artist
For futher reading:
Celebrating the Southern Seasons: rituals for Aotearoa
Dancing with the Seasons: inspiration and resilience through times of change
Sun, Moon, and Stars: Seasonal Celebrations for children and families, tamariiki and whānau



Amazing paintings by your mother Emily Jackson.
Thank you Ruth! I’m glad you could see them. She was fortunate to have good mentors, such as Colin McCahon.
Dear Juliet I found your newsletter inspiring thankyou, and loved your mother’s art – beautiful
Thank you Diane, and I’m glad you enjoyed my mother’s art. She started painting seriously after raising her family of five!