“Darkness is not the absence of light; it is the place where light rests." -- Bayo Akomolafe

There is a particular kind of quiet that arrives when something has been fully lived.

Not the hush of absence.
Not the silence of retreat.
But the settled stillness that comes when a cycle has done what it came here to do.

For eighty-two entries, we have walked the 3 Step Reciprocity Cycle together. Through seasons and thresholds. Through questions, stories, rituals, grief, wonder, momentum, and pause. We traced how relationship deepens—not in straight lines, but in spirals.

As this cycle comes to rest, I find myself drawn not toward explanation, but toward offering.

The Winter Solstice arrives as the Earth’s own punctuation mark.
The day with the least amount of light in the Northern Hemisphere.
Not an ending.
Not a beginning.
A pause.

And so this final entry is not a conclusion.
It is a return.

Acknowledge Earth Is Our Home

The Winter Solstice does not announce itself loudly.

It arrives quietly, almost unnoticed—
a fraction of a degree in the planet’s tilt,
a barely perceptible shift in the long arc of darkness.

This Saturday night, as the sun lowers toward the horizon, I will join a familiar ritual I’ve returned to for the past five years. A group of people gathering at a high point in the city. Candles and lanterns flickering against the deepening dusk. We will watch the last light slip away, then begin to walk.

Silently.

Our feet will move together through streets and shadows until we reach a labyrinth. No instructions. No commentary. Just the sound of breath, footsteps, and flame.

This is one of the ways I remember that Earth is my home.
Not through ownership or permanence—but through orientation.
Through rhythm.
Through the shared act of slowing down enough to notice where we are.

In nature, the darkest day is not a failure of light.
It is a turning.

Discover Your Earth Archetype

After the walk, I will enter a very different kind of space.

Warm.
Soft.
Human.

I’ll gather with my dance community for a short ritual—no more than thirty minutes—before the rest of the evening opens into food, laughter, music, touch, conversation, and movement. Some people will dance wildly. Others will sit close and talk quietly. Some will cook. Some will rest. Some will watch.

No one will be asked to perform the solstice “correctly.”

And that, too, is the work.

Over this past year, the Earth Archetypes have moved from concept into lived experience. What once needed explanation now has begun to show itself with "a-ha" and "Oh you're a Weaver too!" and "I've taken the next step."

Some of us test everything.
Some of us connect the dots.
Some of us bridge gaps.
Some of us imagine that.
Some of us breathe deep.

There is no hierarchy here
We're all part of the same body like any good forest or ensemble cast.

The Earth Archetypes serve as a language to speak, share, and orientate.
They are in motion.

Work Together in Community

Next Saturday, I will travel to Trout Lake Abbey to sit in ceremony with a group of Druids.

Together, we will open the gates to connect the upper and lower realms to Middle Earth. We will call in the ancestors, the nature spirits, and the gods. We will offer gifts (human-made offerings of whiskey, barley, chocolate, and other treats) not as transactions, but as gestures of gratitude and respect.

And then we will listen.

A divination will be offered. Not as prediction, but as response.
A reminder that reciprocity is not complete until we allow ourselves to receive.

This, to me, is the heart of community.
Not agreement.
Not uniformity.
But shared presence in a moment that matters.

Across these three rituals—silent walking, embodied gathering, and ceremonial offering—the full arc of the Reciprocity Cycle closes itself.

Earth acknowledged.
Belonging embodied.
Community honored.

Nothing added.
Nothing extracted.
Nothing rushed.

The Winter Solstice does not ask us to decide what comes next.

It asks us to tend the smallest flame.
To notice who stands beside us in the dark.
To trust that the Earth remembers how to turn back toward the light—
with or without our plans.

So for now, I set the 3 Step Reciprocity Cycle down.

Not away.

Just back into the soil it came from.