A Yule ritual for forgiveness

I’m going to go ahead and assume you have a working knowledge of winter solstice traditions and history, so I can jump in the middle of the river but still make sense. Reach out if you need help with any of this though.

I know we all hate the cooking blogs where the blogger talks about the process of finding the recipe and how it changed their life and shit, but I’m totally doing this here. I need to figure out what ritual I’m doing this year.

I realised I’ve never posted a Winter Solstice ritual on my blog either, perhaps because there are already so many others to choose from, but it makes our collection incomplete.

So, despite tradition, we know that we don’t need to light a big bonfire to bring summer back. In fact, the seasons don’t give two shits about us, and we affect them in much more mundane and sinister ways. But I do enjoy the tradition of starting the current year’s fire with last year’s ashes AND I finally have access to an enclosed outdoor space so I could have a small fire. No melted carpet or setting off fire alarms this year.

But also, no staying up until dawn to watch the birth of the sun. It’s highly likely I’ll be awake at dawn (because anxiety) but I’d much rather sleep past it if at all possible. Plus, the solstice is on a workday this year.

In previous years, I’ve invited family members to write wishes on bay leaves which we burn in the Yule fire, but this year I’m celebrating either alone, or with my eldest child only, and I know my wish already: Forgiveness.

Not for others to forgive me, as great as that would be (if I’ve done you a grievance, I would love the opportunity to make it right,) but for me to learn how.

Because at 36 years old, I don’t know how to let go. Time and distance heal my wounds. Forgiveness comes of its own accord—not as a conscious decision—and that hinders my growth and limits my happiness.

The birth of a new solar year seems like an appropriate time to nurture a new skill, or quality, or whatever this counts as, so my Yule ritual this year is going to have a focus on looking forward, not back. To support this theme, I won’t collect and keep this year’s ashes – I’ll create a bag charm to keep in its place.

Let’s get to the ritual already.

Yule 2023

You’ll need:

• A small, contained fire
• Last year’s ashes
• Two bay leaves and a marker to write on them
• A baggy or square of cloth if you’re keeping ashes or making a charm
• Items for your charm (reach out if you need help deciding what to include. I’m not including mine here for privacy reasons.)
• A journal or Book of Shadows and a pen
• Snacks/ offerings

Create your ritual space in whatever way suits you best, and state your intent. Here’s a basic Yule intro if you don’t have time to conjure your own:

The Goddess gives birth to the God during the longest night, a reminder that joy and pain come hand in hand. That hard work, in whatever capacity we apply ourselves, leads to the harvest. I/We acknowledge hard times are made bearable by the company we keep, and stand by the goddess in her labour. The coldest edge of winter is yet to come, and we move toward it bravely to reach the warmer days ahead.

Light your fire, using last year’s ashes or add you ashes to your fire and say:

These are my past hurts, my burnt-out wishes, and mistakes made against me. Versions of myself and my loved ones/coven that belong in the past. We are renewed. Transformed. We begin again. I release my ties to the past. I release my resentments and grudges. Every step this winter carries me closer to who I want to be.

If you’re using a Yule log, now’s the time to reflect on its symbolism and add it.

Next, write the same thing on both your bay leaves, and put one into the fire.

Here is my wish for the coming year.

Put the other into your charm bag, or the bag you’ll use to save ashes if you’re doing so this year. If you’re making a charm bag, do so now. I like to state out loud what each regent is and what it does.

Then, build energy in your circle in the way you prefer, and read or recite this incantation:

Face the sun and walk through the cold.
Face the sun and let your tension unfold
Face the sun, brighter days are coming, though we might struggle to get there. Though the ground is frozen and our hearts are broken and we’ve every right to carry our rage for warmth it doesn’t serve us.
Let go. It’s heavy.
Let go and face the sun.
Let the knots come undone.
Face the sun and let the past melt away
Through little steps every day
No longer bent, dried, inward-curled
Face the sun and let your leaves unfurl.
Release the pain, choose to begin again.
Face the sun.

While you enjoy your fire and snacks, record this ritual, what you’re leaving behind, and the positive growth you hope to see in your Book of Shadows. Dig in as deep as you can. Really focus on the benefits of letting go and how your life will change for the better. How your heart will heal as winter progresses into spring.

Happy Solstice!

(I’m trying hard to resist the urge to remind you to be super safe, make sure your fire is properly extinguished when you’re finished, close your circle properly and thank your invisible friends. Cause you know this already. But it’s real hard not to say it!!)

Miriam Caelus Cumming has been practising witchcraft for 20 years. Back in the day, ze would have cleansed and consecrated every regent, and would absolutely never bring hir phone into circle. These days? Well, we’re all doing our best.

If real magick is just having people who love you very much, make sure you are one of the people who love you very much, and make your own magick.