What do the tarot cards tell us about the Winter Solstice of 2025? They speak of leaving, carrying, daring.

The Winter Solstice is the moment when night triumphs. Not metaphorically, literally: it is still the longest night of the year, right? And the body knows it before the mind. It feels it in the cold that seeps into the bones, in the heaviness of sleep. It asks for silence, slowness, less noise, and above all, fewer expectations. In this suspended space, which is no longer what was but not yet what will be, tarot does not offer certainties. It does not promise immediate rebirths or bright endings on demand, as I always say. But it does offer something more real: a direction to follow even when the path is not yet clearly visible. I asked the cards how to cross this esoterically significant threshold without forcing anything, without pretending we’ve already moved forward when we are still in the darkest point of the year. The answer is clear and “simple”: before lighting something new, we must extinguish what no longer warms us, continue to carry only what truly matters, and find the courage to take the first step even without knowing where it leads. Because the Winter Solstice is not a dramatic turning point that changes our lives; it is a minimal, almost invisible gesture. But this is how the light can begin to shine again.

The Spread for Winter Solstice 2025: Ten of Cups reversed, Ten of Wands, The Fool

What to Let Go – Ten of Cups (Reversed)

The reversed Ten of Cups speaks of unmet expectations, of a harmony that should exist on paper but in reality creaks a lot. It’s not that what you are experiencing is wrong; it’s that perhaps the idea you had no longer matches how things really are. The perfect family, the perfect relationship, the happy ending that should arrive just now, after so much effort: these are heavy situations when they don’t have a true reflection in daily life. This card reflects the difficulty of feeling genuinely in sync with others, even when the desire for connection is strong. It speaks of bonds that exist, but not in the way we expected. And in winter, when everything already requires more energy, maintaining an image of happiness that you don’t fully feel becomes exhausting. Letting go here does not mean breaking ties or surrendering to difficulties; it means stopping the performance of always having everything perfect, always being grateful for what you have. It means admitting that some things have changed, that certain relationships are no longer what they were, and that this is not a failure. In the darkness of the solstice, pretending consumes more energy than honest silence.

What to Continue Carrying – Ten of Wands

The Ten of Wands is the card of a man advancing bent under a load of wood. It’s not a light card, and it doesn’t pretend to be. It speaks of responsibilities that seem too many, of a weight you sometimes wonder is worth carrying. But it also speaks of endurance. That part of you that, despite fatigue, can still say, “just a little more.” In tarot, the ten represents the completion of a cycle, the end of a long and arduous journey. You are not at the beginning. You are almost there. There is little left. And precisely for this reason, some things, even if heavy, must be carried through to the end. Not everything should be let go. Some struggles have meaning. The work you have chosen, a promise you made, a person you care about even if things are complicated right now. The Ten of Wands does not tell you to give up. It asks you instead to choose with clarity what is truly worth the effort. The key is distinguishing between a burden that is leading you somewhere and a burden you continue to carry out of habit, duty, or fear of disappointing someone. In the heart of winter, this distinction makes all the difference.

What to Dare – The Fool

When everything is dark and heavy, The Fool steps in. And he has no map. The Fool is the energy of new beginnings, the willingness to venture into the unknown. Not because he knows what awaits, but precisely because he does not. It is a primal, instinctive trust, arising before experience and before fear. For the solstice, this card does not speak of major revolutions or ambitious projects. It speaks of something subtler, yet more radical: the courage to not know. The Fool has the energy of someone arriving in the world without instructions. He does not know the ground he is about to cross, and for this reason, he is not yet blocked by the fear of making mistakes. It is not naivety. It is openness. It is the intact awareness that you don’t need to see the whole path to take the first step. Daring, in the darkest point of the year, means allowing yourself to change your mind, to start over, to not have everything defined. It means leaving room for the unexpected just when control seems the only thing that can keep you safe. The Fool does not promise security. He promises movement. And perhaps, in this moment, it is the most honest form of courage there is.

Rituals for Letting Go, Carrying, Daring

Letting go of what no longer nourishes

On the evening of the solstice, December 21, dim the lights as much as possible, turn off your phone, close your computer, and eliminate any source of noise. Light a candle and write on a piece of paper an idea of happiness you feel you need to stop chasing. It doesn’t have to be something big or dramatic; it can be something like, “I want to always have everything under control,” “I want to please everyone,” “I want never to show how tired I am.” Fold the paper and place it in a drawer: there is no need to destroy it. Even just extinguishing the candle can be a meaningful gesture.

Continuing to carry consciously

Prepare a warm drink, whichever you like, and sip it slowly on the couch. While doing so, mentally name one single thing you are carrying with you and consciously choose to continue carrying it until the end of winter. You don’t need to say it out loud or explain it to anyone. Just knowing it is enough, because naming the weight you carry often makes it more bearable.

Daring without knowing how

Before sleeping, place next to your bed an object that represents a beginning for you: a key, a ring, even just a piece of paper. Decide nothing, make no plans, just acknowledge that something new already exists, even if you don’t yet know its form. The Winter Solstice does not ask for enthusiasm but for presence, learning to stay in the dark without rushing the arrival of light, letting go of illusions, carrying what truly matters, and, when the time comes, taking a step forward even without a safe harbor to rely on. Bright moments will return, but in the meantime, keep moving along your path.