The Choosing of the First Step – Irish Winter Practice for the Last Week of December
- Sorcha Lunaris

- Dec 24, 2025
- 4 min read
“The light has turned. Now choose how you walk.”

In Irish seasonal understanding, the final week of December was never regarded as a time of bold beginnings. Although the Winter Solstice had passed and the cycle of light had technically turned, the land itself had not yet committed to forward movement. Dawn still arrived hesitantly, pale and low. Dusk gathered early. The days lengthened almost imperceptibly, as if the year itself wished to move cautiously after the depth of darkness.
This was a liminal interval — not the dark season, and not yet the season of return. Older rural wisdom recognised this as a fragile moment in the year’s rhythm, one that did not reward ambition or haste. The land was believed to be sensitive now, listening rather than responding, observing rather than opening.
For this reason, the last week of December belonged to direction rather than declaration. It was not a time for vows, resolutions, or loud claims upon the future. Instead, it asked a quieter question: How will you move, now that the light has begun to loosen the dark? What mattered was not what was promised, but how one stood upon the ground when movement resumed.
The Folk Belief of the First Deliberate Step
In older Irish folk belief, there was an understanding that the land “noticed” how it was met in the days immediately following the Solstice. This was not a superstition rooted in fear, but a relational belief — the idea that the earth responded to attentiveness with steadiness, and to carelessness with imbalance.
Footsteps taken in this week were thought to carry weight not because they determined fate, but because they expressed attitude. A rushed step suggested unrest. A careless stride implied disconnection. A deliberate, grounded step invited steadiness to mirror it in return.
This belief appears quietly across rural customs: hearths were tended evenly rather than flared; tools were handled with care; journeys were kept short unless necessary. The year was allowed to gather itself slowly, and people were expected to do the same. The land had endured the dark. It deserved to be met without demand.
Thus emerged the quiet practice now known as The Choosing of the First Step — a moment of conscious movement marking not where one intended to go, but how one chose to walk upon the returning light.
What the Practice Asks of the Witch
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