Winter Solstice, the 12 Magical Nights, and Teaching Our Girls to Pause, Trust, and Choose Themselves

Winter always asks us to slow down, even though we are existing through hot ass summers because of climate change!

This year, Winter Solstice arrived on December 21st, which is the longest night of the year. Instead of rushing past it before the “new year,” my girls and I chose to stay there. To sit in it. To honor it.

12 Magical Nights, connects directly to a previous episode of my podcast, Secular Homeschool Revolution, titled Secular Homeschooling During the Holidays: Reclaiming Winter, Rest, and Cultural Truth. In that episode, I talk about how many Indigenous cultures understood winter as a season of pause and not productivity. A time for listening, rest, and discernment. I do think more people should practice discernment BUT that is for another blog post...lol

Before colonization disrupted rhythms, winter wasn’t about pushing harder or becoming more. It was about conserving energy, reflecting, and trusting that growth doesn’t always look loud.

Writing What We’re Brave Enough to Name

Before the nights begin, each of us writes 13 intentions, one on each strip of paper. They aren’t polished. They aren’t performative. Some are tender. Some are heavy. All of them start the same way:

“No harm to none.”

That line matters. It grounds us in accountability before desire. It reminds us that wanting something doesn’t give us permission to hurt ourselves or anyone else to get it.

Each strip is folded closed, never reread, never revised and placed into our own personal jar. No shared jars. No comparison. No adult hovering. Autonomy matters here.

We used what we had...old sweet heat jalapeño jars we emptied and cleaned because reclamation doesn’t require buying new things. It requires intention, very much like what we are doing for ourselves on this journey.

One Night at a Time, Without Needing to Know

Trusting the Universe (Without Performing Faith)

Starting on December 21st, each night we pull one folded paper from the jar.

We do not open it.

That part is key.

Not opening the paper is an act of trust...not blind faith, but trust in process.

It says: I don’t need to control every outcome. I don’t need to micromanage the future to feel safe.

That lesson is especially important for kids growing up in a world obsessed with control, productivity, instant gratification, and certainty.

We pull the paper. We sit with the unknown. And we let it go into the universe.

One night at a time.

The 12th Night

By the 12th night, only two folded papers remain in the jar.

One of them is burned.

That intention is released to the universe...not because it doesn’t matter, but because it isn’t ours to force. It represents what we don’t control: timing, outcomes, other people, systems bigger than us. Burning it is a soft goodbye. A letting go. A recognition of limits.

The final paper is opened.

This one stays with us.

This is the intention we are responsible for...not through wishing, but through how we move, the boundaries we set, and the choices we make in the year ahead.

No bypassing.

No outsourcing.

Just ownership.

MY oldest is placing her intentions in a jar.

What I Want My Girls to Carry From This

More than anything, I want my girls to know how to sit with themselves. To see who they are. Do not be afraid of desiring more and claiming more. To trust their inner voice. To understand that rest is important.

I also want them to understand autonomy...not independence for the sake of independence, but ownership of their inner world.

This ritual teaches them:

• They get to name what matters to them

• Their intentions don’t need an audience to be real

• Not everything is theirs to carry

• And what is theirs deserves care, not pressure

  
  

Each jar is personal. Each intention is private unless they choose to share it. No adult correcting their language. No ranking of which hopes are “big enough” or “good enough.” That privacy matters. It tells them: you belong to yourself first.

They’re learning that autonomy means listening inward before responding outward. That trusting themselves isn’t selfish, but it’s grounding. And when autonomy is paired with accountability, it becomes powerful. They learn when to release and when to step forward. When to rest. When to act.

Why We Set Intentions Instead of Goals

People have asked why we write intentions instead of goals, especially when it comes to kids. On the surface, they look similar. This was a new understanding and journey for my family this year.

Goals are about outcomes. They focus on arrival. They’re usually tied to timelines, productivity, and measurable success. Even when they’re well-intentioned, goals can quietly carry the message that you’re not enough until you achieve something. That pressure shows up early for kids, and it sticks.

Intentions move differently.

Intentions are about relationships and how we want to show up, how we want to care for ourselves, how we want to move through the world. They don’t collapse when things don’t go as planned. You can live with an intention even when the outcome changes.

A goal asks, Did I do it? An intention asks, Did I stay aligned with myself?

That difference matters.

In a decolonized practice, intentions make room for rhythm, rest, and reality. They don’t demand constant forward motion or treat growth like a straight line. They allow for winter seasons. They allow for a pause. They allow for becoming without shame.

For my girls, intention...setting protects their sense of worth. It teaches them that they are not projects to be completed or problems to fix. It shows them that accountability doesn’t have to be harsh and that their value isn’t tied to productivity.

We’re not forcing the year to behave. We’re choosing how we’ll meet it with honesty, care, and trust in ourselves.

Letting Winter Close the Year Gently

We don’t end the 12 Magical Nights with declarations or pressure to transform. We end them quietly. Softer than when we began.

We paused. We trusted. We released. And we chose what we’re ready to carry forward.

Is this for Boys?

ABSOLUTELY. When my son is older, I will most definitely encourage him to do this trek with us.