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Tonight's New Moon is in Sagittarius. Archer energy is always fun -- Sagittarius, while the philosopher's sign, is also always up for anything. As a Sag myself, I often say my philosophy of life is, "What? I'm too busy dancing!" When the New Moon is in Sagittarius, we're invited to look at our Shadow side and discover what spark of light we can generate or find to illuminate the darkness. Coming as it does in the darkening days before Winter Solstice, the Sagittarius New Moon also reminds us that there is always dawning after the night, and also that night will inevitably follow day. We need to ride the tides of this cycle, trusting that all darkness will eventually be dispelled by light -- even if it means that darkness must come again eventually.

The focus this new moon is on relationships -- with each other, with the world, with our communities, and with ourselves. Awakenings happening to us and around us as well -- some of these are painful, some are jarring, but all are necessary. There is a sense that the world is waking up from a long sleep, or shaking itself out of complacency. 

It snowed in the Blue Mountains, where I live. It's always colder here than in Sydney, the mountains - which are not really mountains at all, but a plateau pushed up from the sea one hundred and seventy million years ago - are a kilometre above sea level and have their own weather. Which means that, although it never snows in Sydney, it does sometimes snow up here.

I was coming back from Sydney, on the train and I watched as the rain drops falling outside the window somehow seemed to get lighter, to become blown about by the wind, I watched them becoming snow as the train moved higher and further west. It was late afternoon and out the window I saw small dips in the land filled with ferns carrying a delicate blanket of snow on their fronds, like icing, it was truly magical. I stared and stared.

   Yule nearly passed me by this year. My husband and I have been working around the clock, it seems, and the days leading up to Yule were no different: long days at work, scrambling to keep the house neat and the children fed and in bed at reasonable hours. We missed the opportunity to collect sunfire, and because of this it feels like something is lacking this year. It almost feels like the mystery has gone out of Yule.

   Over the years I have come to learn that we need mystery in our lives. Overall we believe what we can see, though some of us (many) are willing to believe that which we cannot. And therein lies a truth.

At long last, we’ve come to the valley of the year: the longest night, the middle of winter, and the apex of darkness. But as they so often say “it’s often darkest before the light” and cultures around the world have long celebrated midwinter with merry revelry, well aware that the Sun will soon return.

In our annual megapost for Yuletide, we’ve gathered as many stories as we could find about winter, seasonal merriment, and gift-giving for the holiday season. Many of the linked posts are from our own PaganSquare, but you’ll find plenty more if you feel inclined to look. We hope you and enjoy and wish you a very Merry Yule (and a Happy New Year’s)!

-Aryós Héngwis

SHE who Laughs, Lasts
The past, the present and the future walked into a womyn’s gathering. 
They were in tense.

The AULD ONES say: 
One day, you realize that you are older than almost every other living being. Your familiars: cats, dogs and other close critters; the wyld messengers: birds, serpents and others who visit you; most plants; and even other humans day by day are increasingly your younger sisters, children, grandchildren. 
That’s what’s so great about trees! They are the only species where so many individuals are older than you! In the dark inspiration that marks Winter Solstice, find a tree. Place your palms upon her, slow down, and seek counsel. Take in this elder’s survival story; let the patterns in your mind mirror the patterns she shows in bark and branch—yule feel tree wisdom swaying your own canopy. Honor your tree with a token, or—well, go ahead, you old tree hugger you, embrace her. Then, take a wide stance. Raise your arms. Look up—invoke the return of the Sun!
Good Night (simple words that are always true) to the year of Wild Card XV—X for the girrrl gene, V for the sacred vulva—celebrate your jolly old self.

Ride the Night Mare.
See with owl eyes.
Dream with sleeping bear.

Carolyn Myers © Mother Tongue Ink 2014

I have had more elegant Yules than this, when there were more decorations up: more evergreen swag, a larger altar covered in small candles and mistletoe, a Yule log burning in a hearth. There have been years when I marked the Solstice with Yule feasts, parties, festivals, days and nights full of reveling, gluttony and socializing.

Across town, across my networks of family and friends, tonight, this whole week really, is full of these things. There are vigils around sacred fires, out on the prairie, at the edge of forests. There are hearths alight with sacred flames, and altars set up in warm homes and under chilly starlight. Tables loaded with venison, or pork, roasted root veggies mashed in butter. I think about my beloveds, far and wide, and send them love, as they vigil the night through, or call upon the Old God in his passing, or libate the Divine Mother. So many magickal, magickal things happening.