🕯️ February 18 – Songs for the Returning Sun: Morning Rituals for Gratitude and Awakening

By February 18th, the slow turning of the season becomes more visible, more tangible. The light has changed. It spills earlier over the horizon, catching the frost and setting it aflame in quiet brilliance. Birds stir earlier now, testing their songs in the chilled air, and even the wind carries a different note — softer, filled with expectancy. This day, known as Songs for the Returning Sun, celebrates the growing strength of light, the reawakening of gratitude, and the renewal of spirit that dawn brings. It is a morning of praise — not in words alone, but in presence, in breath, in the act of simply waking to life again.

The ancients who marked this turning of the wheel understood something we often forget: sunrise is the oldest ritual, the first act of devotion known to humankind. Long before temples or scriptures, there was the simple reverence of those who stood facing the east, hands open, hearts lifted toward the returning light. The sun’s rising was the promise that life continued, that warmth and clarity would come again after darkness. On this February morning, as winter loosens its grip, we join those countless souls in that primal act of thanksgiving — greeting the light not as something distant, but as something reborn within us.

To honor the returning sun, rise as close to dawn as you can, or whenever the first clear light begins to touch your surroundings. Step outside if weather allows, or stand by a window where you can see the sky. Bring a candle or small lantern with you and light it quietly, saying: “As the sun rises in the sky, may its flame rise in my heart.” Let this act be both symbolic and sincere — a gesture of alignment with the rhythm of life itself.

As you gaze toward the east, notice the subtle gradations of color in the sky — the deep blue softening into silver, then gold. This transition mirrors the awakening of the soul: each layer of darkness giving way to greater illumination. Take a deep breath and feel the air move through you; it is the breath of the world, shared by all beings. With each exhalation, release heaviness or stagnation. With each inhalation, draw in vitality and light.

It is said that Brigid herself is the keeper of this returning fire — not only the flame of the hearth but the solar flame of dawn. Her presence can be felt in the first shafts of morning light that fall upon frost or water, turning the ordinary into something radiant. In the Celtic imagination, she is the one who sings the sun awake after winter’s sleep, whose breath warms the air and whose voice fills the world with praise.

To participate in Songs for the Returning Sun is to remember that gratitude itself is a form of music. Every word of thanks, every sigh of wonder, is a note in the larger song of creation. You need no instrument but your own breath to join in this hymn. If you wish, hum softly as the light strengthens, or speak words of gratitude aloud. They might be simple: “Thank you for this day. Thank you for life. Thank you for light.” The power lies not in eloquence, but in sincerity.

As the light grows, reflect on what is awakening in your own life. What new energies or insights are beginning to stir within you? What do you feel called to bring into the world as the days lengthen? The returning sun mirrors our own creative fire, urging us to emerge from dormancy, to begin again with clarity and joy.

You may wish to keep a small journal nearby to capture any thoughts or inspirations that arise during this quiet dawn vigil. Sometimes the simplest revelations — a renewed sense of purpose, a gentle desire to connect, a forgotten dream reappearing — arrive in these soft, early hours when the mind is still and the heart is open.

After your time of reflection, take a few moments to move — stretch, walk, breathe deeply — honoring your body as part of the Earth’s awakening. The same energy that turns the sun and quickens the seed also animates your limbs, your breath, your heartbeat. You are not separate from the dawn; you are one of its many expressions.

In the old Irish countryside, people would sometimes ring bells or sing aloud to greet the sun, believing that their voices helped strengthen its ascent. The belief may be poetic, but the truth behind it is powerful: joy feeds light. To sing, to smile, to lift your voice in gratitude, even silently, is to amplify the world’s brightness.

Consider crafting your own morning song — a few lines or simple hums that express your gratitude. You might sing something as unadorned as:

“The light returns, and so do I.
My heart is bright beneath the sky.
With every breath, I wake anew,
O golden sun, my thanks to you.”

Repeat it softly as you move about your morning. Let it anchor you in presence, weaving the sacred into the ordinary rhythm of the day.

Throughout the hours that follow, carry the memory of this dawn within you. Notice how the sunlight changes on surfaces, how it warms your skin, how it transforms even humble things — a mug of tea, a shadow on the floor — into something alive. This awareness is the heart of spiritual practice: not to chase the light, but to recognize it in everything.

As the day unfolds, find small ways to embody gratitude. Write a message of thanks to someone you appreciate. Tend to your home or workspace with care. Step outside again in the afternoon and feel the sun’s rays as a benediction. Each gesture becomes an echo of your morning ritual — a continuation of the song begun at dawn.

When evening comes and the sun begins its descent, take a final moment to acknowledge the full circle of the day. You might light your morning candle again for a few minutes, saying softly: “As the sun rests, I keep its warmth within. The light that rose returns to me.” This act completes the cycle — external light mirrored by internal flame, gratitude carried through the turning hours.

Songs for the Returning Sun reminds us that awakening is both daily and eternal. Every morning is an opportunity to rise again — to greet the world with wonder, to begin anew regardless of what came before. Gratitude is not a reaction but a rhythm, a way of aligning with the universe’s heartbeat. When we meet the dawn in reverence, we participate in creation itself, singing the world into brightness one breath at a time.

The returning sun does not demand worship; it invites relationship. It calls us to remember that life, in all its fragility and brilliance, is a continuous gift. To greet it with open eyes and an open heart is to live in harmony with the oldest truth there is: that darkness is never the end, and light always finds its way back.