Embracing Darkness & Death: A Winter Solstice Reflection
The Winter Solstice marks a sacred time of inner work, a time to surrender and let go of what no longer serves us. This year, I spent the Solstice at a sunrise Lakota sweat lodge ceremony with some of my favorite humans. It was one of the most magical and potent ceremonies I’ve experienced. To enter the womb of the Inipi, say prayers, give thanks, and offer gratitude before emerging to greet the new sunrise—a new chance to be reborn again—was deeply moving.
The ceremony, as always, took me through a journey of profound contrasts. In the beginning, there was fear, confusion, and anxiety. As the flap closed and the darkness settled in, my heart pounded in my chest. The steam began to rise, and I realized that there was no turning back. We had started, and I was overwhelmed by doubt. I know this place of fear deeply.
But what’s beautiful about this work is that after years of devoting myself to this path, I’ve learned to sit with fear. I’ve come to a place where I can be keenly aware of its presence, yet courageously hold love and gratitude amidst it all- how to stay steady and firm in the name of love, how soft can I be when the grips of fear arise? This awareness feels like a type of maturity, one that can only be earned through embodiment and experience. And humbly, I remember—I'm only just beginning.
This experience took me back to my first sweat lodge ceremony in 2019, almost five years ago to the date. I was crying, overwhelmed with fear. I remember a man beside me saying, "La luz está adentro"—the light is within you. Isn’t that what the Winter Solstice is all about? The darkness around us is a reminder of the bright light within.
Lately, fear has come around more often—deep, primal fear tied to transformation and the death of old identities. The Winter Solstice has brought these fears to the surface, asking what no longer serves me to be composted, allowing for new growth in the spring.
As some of you know, I work closely with mushrooms, and they’ve been incredible allies in this process. Sitting at the altar of my life, reflecting on who I am and who I am becoming, is one of the greatest gifts I can give myself. It’s life-changing—the kind of change that isn’t always easy, yet always so deeply worth it, every single time. And so, on 12/18, I sat alone with the medicine, and the fear I’d been carrying was amplified—fear that something bad would happen, fear of monsters, fear of the unknown, fear of death.
It’s funny how my mind clings to death with such fear, while my body feels it as something deeply needed and natural- a homecoming. What I ultimately experienced was death as an embrace from Mother Earth—a sweet, comforting release. It’s always the anticipation that is worse than the experience itself. Once we are in it, we realize that death is not what our minds have made it out to be, but something so sweetly sacred and necessary. No, not an enemy, but a friend.
And so it is with this season, a time to germinate and go inward. To explore the fears that come up and know that we are emerging again, reborn. For me, there is a deep call to step into the role of matriarch, to claim this next chapter as a steward of the land and of the soul. The parts of me that rose in the Inipi and before I took those 4 grams are the same parts of me that are deeply afraid of stepping fully into that destiny.
It doesn’t feel like I’m transforming into something new, but rather, claiming the path I was always meant to take. What an honor to witness these parts so clearly. What an honor to nurture them within the matriarchy of my very own being.
So I ask you,
What is your metamorphosis?
As you reflect on your essence and your time here on this earth, what is so deeply yours to claim?
What vision is coming through that you can no longer deny?
How can you cultivate and honor the light within you during this season of darkness?
Bowing to your kindling light,
Liz (a Matriarch rising)