Every year, right around the time the sun is tapping out at 4:30 PM and my body is halfway convinced I should be hibernating with the neighborhood squirrels; two different parts of my life tap me on the shoulder.
One says, “Hey… the light is returning. Slow down. Listen. Light a candle, honor the turning.”
The other says, “Buddy, we have three Christmas parties, a Secret Santa, and ten thousand cookies to bake. MOVE.”
Welcome to late December in a mixed spiritual household.
I’m a modern druid. I’m the kind who reveres the earth, studies the old Celtic stories, pulls ogham stavesWooden sticks or wands inscribed with Ogham characters for study or divination. They serve as tools for meditation and interpretation. Each stave carries layered symbolic... more... in the morning, and still shows up for Christmas dinner with my family because the potatoes are phenomenal and my wife would leave me if I skipped out on decorating the tree.
But here’s something I’ve realized… these traditions? They don’t have to fight each other.
They can actually hold hands pretty comfortably like two old neighbors who finally realize the property line never mattered that much.
Yule and Christmas: Not Opposites, Just Different Songs in the Same Season
Yule, for me, is the heart-softening moment of the year. It’s the still point. The tiny flame in the long dark that says, “I’m still here. And I’m coming back stronger.” A time to reflect within the darkness of winter on the past year and prepare for the coming year.
It’s the solsticeThe point in the year when the sun reaches its greatest northern or southern position. It marks either the longest or shortest day. Observing it..., after all… the literal turning of the sun’s tide.
Christian Christmas, however, has deepened into a cultural tradition more than a theological one in my home. It’s family, it’s ritual nostalgia, it’s the smell of cinnamon sugar and pine needles crushed under the tree stand. And if I’m being honest… a little bit of Christian mythos can still be beautiful when you take it as myth. Under it all, it’s a story about hope being born in the darkest night. And that theme is pretty universal.
Yule whispers.
Christmas jingles.
But both, at their core, celebrate light returning.
How I Hold Both Without Feeling Like a Walking Contradiction
1. I treat Yule as the spiritual center.
This is where I drop into the season more deeply.
My Yule practice is quiet, groundingA technique for connecting awareness to the body and the earth. It releases excess energy and restores calm after spiritual work. Breathing and visualization are..., and intentional… a blend of candlelight, reflection, and a little ritual work. I’ll do things like:
- Light a Yule candle at sunset
- Honor my ancestors (both of place and blood)
- Reflecting on the past year’s growth
- Doing a symbolic “release + renewal” moment
- Stepping outside to actually feel the solstice night
This is where my soul plugs in.
2. I treat Christmas as the communal celebration.
Christmas, to me, is for:
- Family gatherings
- Ugly sweaters
- Way too much food
- Gifts (which I will forever insist are modern offerings, fight me)
- Telling my wife the tree is perfect even though it’s clearly leaning
It’s joy without pressure. Play without the existential undertones.
Christmas carries the cultural weight; Yule carries the spiritual one.
And I think it works pretty well this way.
3. I honor the overlap without forcing a fusion.
Some people try and blend Yule and Christmas into one hybrid holiday. I don’t.
Not that I see anything wrong with that approach, but because I like letting things be themselves.
I don’t need to shove everything into a single “spiritually unified mega-holiday.”
Some days are quiet.
Some days are loud.
And that’s totally fine.
The red-green lights can twinkle.
The Yule fire can burn.
They don’t need to share a syllabus.
4. I let the season be a mirror.
Winter has a way of stripping us down to what’s essential.
The celebrations, all of them, just nudge us toward questions like:
- What do I want to release?
- What light am I choosing to protect?
- What seeds am I planting for after the thaw?
- Who do I want with me as the year turns?
And honestly… that’s a conversation I can have at the solstice and over Christmas dessert.
The Real Magic Is in the Balance
For me, Yule is the slow heartbeat of the season.
Christmas is the party where the heartbeat puts on a sweater and eats too many mashed potatoes.
Both matter to me in different ways.
I don’t need to choose.
I don’t need to pick sides in a spiritual custody battle.
I just let the season be what it is:
A time of light kindling in the dark.
A time of warmth shared across beliefs.
A time where the ancient and the modern sit down at the same table and, somehow, get along just fine.
If the ancestors could see the electric Yule logs, LED Christmas trees, and chaotic cookie swaps we do now…I think they’d shrug, grab a cup of mulled something, and join in.
