The Whisper Beneath the Noise
Allowing myself the gift of time to be bathed in Mother Night
Have you ever felt a quiet nudge inside you—
and ignored it because life was too loud?
Your soul doesn’t shout.
It whispers.
And when you pause long enough to listen,
you realize something steady and surprising:
You already know the way.
The New Year arrives heavy with expectations—
movement, resolution, becoming—
as if we haven’t already lived, carried, survived enough to earn our rest.
Every year, the holidays and the turning of the calendar stir everything.
And if you’re sensitive to the collective tide, as I am,
the afterward can feel like a strange emptiness—
a letdown that borders on grief.
This year, I chose differently.
Instead of numbing or rushing forward,
I watched a Winter Solstice ceremony
and let myself be soaked in Mother Night—
the wisdom of darkness, of stillness,
of being held by the star-filled sky.
Winter reminds us how to stay.
I’ve been practicing horse stance—
an embodied prayer of strength and rootedness—
a reminder of what it means to be the evergreen
in a world eager to bloom before it’s time.
Spring will come.
March will arrive.
But attuning to your soul’s compass
means honoring this season—
intentionally crafting space for stillness
so the whisper beneath the noise can be heard.
Winter asks us not to fix, but to be.
Not to know, but to stay.
I know the dark can feel uncomfortable.
The void.
The crossroads.
The not-yet.
And yet, these are the places that have taught me the most.
Right now, I am practicing not running.
Not hiding.
Not avoiding the cold, the uncertainty, the night.
My body and soul have been whispering to me for months now:
Rest.
Remember.
Remember what you have done and be proud.
In your remembering, something new will arise—
quietly, magically, in its own time.
Be with us.
Let Mother Night wrap you in her star-lit embrace.
Invocation:
How are you honoring the wisdom of winter in your life right now?
What is one whisper you’ve been hearing beneath the noise?