In late December, several major cultural and spiritual celebrations converge: the Winter Solstice, Hanukkah, Christmas, and Kwanzaa. Though their origins, rituals, and theological frameworks differ, they arise at the same moment in the year—during the longest nights—and all turn toward light as a symbol of renewal, resilience, and connection.
For many of us, this season carries a natural inward pull. The earth rests. The days are short. Life slows down. Across cultures, human beings have responded to this moment not by denying the darkness, but by illuminating it—gathering together, lighting candles, telling stories, and remembering what endures.
For Vajrayana practitioners, this convergence offers a profound mirror for our own understanding of luminosity (ösel) and the nature of mind.
Honoring Our Practitioners in the Southern Hemisphere
As we reflect on this season, it is important to acknowledge that for our practitioners in the Southern Hemisphere—in places such as Chile, South Africa, Australia, and New Zealand—this time marks the Summer Solstice, the longest day of the year. While the external conditions differ, the underlying truth remains the same: we are all living within the same great turning of the earth. Whether light is increasing or reaching its fullness, the invitation is shared—to recognize luminosity, presence, and the living intelligence of awareness as it expresses itself through all seasons and directions.
The Shared Human Gesture Toward Light
The Winter Solstice marks the longest night of the year—the point at which darkness reaches its fullness and then, almost imperceptibly, begins to turn. Ancient solstice traditions honored this moment with fire, bonfires, and ritual flames to welcome the sun’s return.
This same instinct appears in the religious and cultural holidays clustered around this time:
Hanukkah, the Festival of Lights, commemorates the rededication of the Temple and the miracle of a small amount of oil sustaining light far beyond expectation.
Christmas celebrates the birth of Christ, often called the “Light of the World,” marked by candles, stars, and illuminated homes.
Kwanzaa, a cultural celebration honoring African heritage, centers on the lighting of seven candles in the kinara, each representing a core principle such as unity, purpose, and collective responsibility.
Despite their differences, all of these traditions emphasize light in darkness, gathering in community, renewal, and shared values. They affirm that even at the lowest point of the year, something luminous is present—and quietly growing.
Luminosity: The Internal Sun
In Vajrayana Buddhism, luminosity is not merely symbolic. Ösel refers to the innate, radiant clarity of awareness itself—the knowing quality of mind that is always present, even when obscured by confusion, fear, or suffering.
Just as the sun does not disappear at the Winter Solstice, the luminous nature of mind is never absent, even in our darkest moments. The solstice marks not the defeat of darkness, but a turning—a recognition that light has never been lost.
From this view, confusion does not destroy wisdom; it temporarily obscures it. Darkness is not an enemy to be conquered, but a condition within which luminosity can be recognized.
From Symbol to Direct Experience
The bridge between winter festivals and Vajrayana practice lies in a movement we know well:
External symbol—candles, fire, light in the dark.
Internal reflection—contemplation, prayer, meaning-making.
Direct recognition—resting in the luminous, empty nature of awareness itself.
Many Vajrayana practices already use light in this way: visualizing deities as radiant forms, embodying these beings, dissolving appearance into luminosity, and resting in clear knowing beyond concepts. During the solstice season, even a single candle can become a reminder—not of something to attain, but of something to recognize.
A Guided Contemplation
You may wish to pause here for a few minutes of reflection.
Allow the body to settle. Feel the support of the earth beneath you.
Imagine a single flame—simple, steady, alive.
Notice how even a small light changes the quality of darkness. Darkness is not pushed away; it is gently illuminated.
Now allow this light to be sensed within—perhaps in the heart, perhaps as a pervasive clarity. This is not something you create. It is something you notice.
Thoughts may arise and dissolve. Emotions may move. Awareness remains. Clear. Open. Luminous.
If you bring to mind a place of uncertainty or tenderness in your life, see if it can be met with this same gentle illumination. Not to fix or resolve it, but to know it fully.
Finally, allow awareness to widen. Sense others—near and far—seeking warmth, meaning, and connection during this season. Like one candle lighting another, let this luminosity naturally extend outward, without effort or depletion.
Rest here for a few breaths.
Light Without Duality
In Vajrayana, the nature of mind is often described as the inseparable union of emptiness and luminosity—openness and vivid presence together. Light is not opposed to darkness in a moral or dualistic sense. Rather, luminosity is the basic clarity present within all experience, including grief, uncertainty, and pain.
This understanding resonates quietly with the wisdom of winter traditions:
Light is born within the darkness.
A single flame is enough to transform a space.
Light is meant to be shared.
For practitioners, this invites a subtle but powerful shift. The very experiences we label as “dark” can become gateways into direct recognition, if met with awareness rather than resistance.
Community, Sangha, and Shared Light
Winter festivals are rarely solitary. They emphasize family, community, remembrance, generosity, and shared meals. Light is placed in windows, carried into public spaces, and kindled together.
In Vajrayana terms, this mirrors the role of sangha—the field created when practitioners gather in shared intention. When luminosity is recognized, it naturally expresses itself as connection and compassion. We realize that this light is not personal or owned; it is shared by all beings.
Just as each tradition affirms that every home can hold a flame, Vajrayana teaches that every being possesses Buddha-nature.
Living as Lamps for the World
In all of these traditions, light is not hoarded. It is offered. Shared. Passed on.
From a Vajrayana perspective, recognizing the luminous light of being naturally expresses itself as compassionate action. When we trust this light within ourselves, we become—quite simply—lamps for others.
At this turning point of the year, we might gently ask:
How do I meet darkness—in myself and in the world?
Do I trust the luminosity that is already present?
How does this light want to express itself as kindness, clarity, and courage?
Dedication of Merit
By the goodness of this reflection,
by resting in the luminous nature of mind,
may any clarity, warmth, or insight that has arisen
benefit all beings without exception.
May this light extend to those who are struggling,
those who feel lost or alone,
those living in fear, grief, or uncertainty.
May the darkness of ignorance be gently illuminated
by wisdom that is spacious and kind.
May confusion soften into understanding,
and suffering into compassion.
As the light returns after the longest night,
may we remember the indestructible luminosity
present in every being and every moment.
For the benefit of all beings,
in all directions,
without limit.
Immense light, space, and luminosity to all beings.
May it be so.
Svāhā.