Surrendering to the Contraction: The Magic of the Great Conjunction and the Winter Solstice
Over the past few months, I’ve been having so many conversations – with others, with myself – about contraction and expansion. When we think of contractions, we think of discomfort and pain. We want the contractions to end; we long for expansion. Framing contraction and expansion as binary opposites does us no service: one good, the other bad. Something begins to shift when we realize that they're two sides of the same coin. Just as our exhale requires an inhale, expansion requires contraction. In fact, we're contracting precisely because we've expanded enough to hold the pain and discomfort.
Ever had one of those super annoying moments where everything in your life is feeling good, you're living in that sweet, sweet window of tolerance, and then BAM! Dissociation, panic, pain flare! Suddenly we feel absolutely awful. Why? Why is this happening? we wonder. I was feeling great! Well, that's the kicker: when we create enough spaciousness within ourselves, our nervous system understands that we've built our capacity to experience discomfort can go deeper with our trauma work. Contraction happens not because we’re failing at our healing work. Contraction happens BECAUSE we’re healing!
That doesn’t mean that it’s still not uncomfortable AF. Contraction is also super comfortable for our trauma brain. We’ve spent so much of our lives living in freeze mode, which is the territory of contraction and dissociation. And so contraction might feel really familiar to our bodies. It might feel like we've been tied up in ropes, or as though we're wedged between two panes of glass. One slight movement and the glass will shatter. To protect ourselves, we freeze and contract. We hold our breath. We forget to exhale.
“I touch my own skin, and it tells me that before there was any harm, there was miracle.
— adrienne maree brown, Pleasure Activism
If there's anything I've learnt from years of trauma work, it's that there's no use in fighting the contractions. I can kick and scream and be dragged. Or I can surrender, learn to sit with the discomfort, and begin the process of expanding once again.
Right now we’re in a huge moment of contraction and expansion. For the first time in 200 years, Jupiter and Saturn have come together again, moving out of Capricorn and into the sign of Aquarius. Jupiter represents abundance and expansion, while Saturn represents structure, form, and contraction. We can’t have one without the other.
Alongside the Great Conjunction is the Winter Solstice, or the Witch’s New Year as I like to call it. The winter solstice marks the darkest day of the year. What better manifestation of contraction can you ask for? And, because it’s the darkest day of the year, that means that each day forward will offer us more light and expansion.
With this solstice and the great conjunction, I’ve also been thinking about how we’re moving into a Hierophant year (2021: 2 + 2 + 1 = 5; 5 = the Hierophant). Numerologically, 5s represent contraction. And that makes a whole lot of sense coming on the heels of the Emperor year of 2020, which was all about taking up space and expanding. The Hierophant is the knowledge keeper, the storyteller, the wise ancestor, the witch. In order to tap into this wisdom, we must clear out old beliefs and stories that no longer match our truth. In many ways, this requires us to return to and tend to our inner children.
In the guidebook for the Fifth Spirit Tarot, Charlie Claire Burgess begins their discussion of the Star card (ruled by Aquarius) with a quote from adrienne maree brown’s Pleasure Activism: “I touch my own skin, and it tells me that before there was any harm, there was miracle.” The person represented in the Star card is naked as the day they were born. No self-hatred. It’s as though before there was any shame, there was self-love.
“My mom is calling me, and I’m ready to build a new relationship with her.
With this move of Saturn and Jupiter into Aquarius on the solstice, and the transition into the Hierophant in a little over a week’s time, we’re reminded that our individual healing is not just for us: it’s for the collective as well. When we heal ourselves, we heal the world we live in. Aquarius may appear to be this singular individual, this lone wolf weirdo, but Aquarius knows that the individual and the collective is not some false binary. As my brilliant friend Jaime said, the individual is part of the collective. Similarly, the Hierophant understand that their inner wisdom is the wisdom of the collective because none of us exist outside of the social.
We cannot move towards our own healing, and collective healing, if we continue to resist the contractions, if we refuse to turn inwards, let go of the old stories that harm us, and welcome in those that support our flourishing. Building our capacity to sit with the contraction requires small titrated movement. We don't want to go from 0 to 100, because that would be overwhelming. In fact, it would replicate the experience of trauma, which is too fast, too much, too soon. This can look like taking a few deep breaths, our hands on our stomach to feel the inhale and the exhale. What our trauma brain needs to see is that we don't have to process everything all at once. We can take our time. We can move slowly.
My work right now is processing a lot of shame connected to my teenager self and our sexual trauma. I am contracting. It doesn't feel great. But I'm now ready to let go of the old beliefs that I'm undesirable and unloveable; that I must accept whatever scraps I'm given. I get to reparent this younger part now. I know that in order to do this work, I need to connect with my mom, who died when I was 11. All of the unprocessed grief from her death is inextricably linked to the traumas that followed. It feels so fitting that this is the year of the Hierophant. My mom is calling me, and I'm ready to build a new relationship with her.
In one of my Trauma Witchery sessions from last week, we were talking about shame and the Star card, as well as the 4 of Pentacles. 4s ask us to build a sacred container for ourselves (a profound reparenting task). In the ritual I created for the person I was working with, I suggested that they create a literal container where their younger self can feel held. And today. on the solstice/conjunction, I did the same.
I took some photos to share and below you'll find the instructions and some photos from my process in case you feel called to do the same. Our contractions will be uncomfortable, but we can make them less so by leaning into the hard and messy work of loving ourselves. For with contraction comes expansion; with our healing comes the healing of the collective.
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Materials:
A mason jar or other glass vessel
Moss, stones, or some other material for the "ground"
A photograph of the younger self you're reparenting
Glue, scissors, and sparkles
An image that will act as the background (could be from a magazine or you could paint or draw one)
Anything else special you want to add. For me this included a photograph of my mom, which I put in a small heart-shaped frame; amethyst, emerald, and a pinecone I foraged and covered in sparkles, to mark the solstice/great conjunction
Instructions:
Create the collage background for your container, which includes the photograph of your younger self. I've used this sticker gems to represent the expansion that comes after the contraction, which is represented by the 3 of Swords tarot card.
Use the hot glue or regular liquid glue to secure your collage background on the inside of the vessel.
Add whatever elements will make up the "ground" (I used moss that I foraged) and anything else you want to add.
Place the container at your altar as a reminder that you are held in your contractions.
