The Sun Soaked Exhalation as a Spell, Tarot Spread & Journaling Ritual
You have walked bravely through the bones of this year—
through the raw-breathed winter of endings,
through the restless ache of becoming.
You held onto the flicker,
the promise of light returning
when all you had was cold faith and inner fire.
In Taurus season, you learned to wait—
to trust the slow-bloom,
to sink into soil and body and breath.
You luxuriated in the patient miracle of roots deepening.
You let your worth whisper itself back into your bones.
Then Gemini came, electric and sharp,
cracking you open like a peach—
mind racing, tongue lit with questions,
a million windows flung open in the house of the self.
Curiosity spun its web across your psyche,
rewiring stories, flickering synapses with holy mischief.
But today, Cancer arrives, not as a thought but a threshold.
A watery womb-door creaks open on the longest day.
The Solstice is her portal.
And she says:
Come.
Warm yourself by the hearth of your own becoming.
Come back to the inner temple,
to the soft-lit cave of memory, belonging, and feeling.
Not the performance of growth—
but the tending of it.
This is where your soul exhales.
Where you stop running and start remembering.
Where light meets longing,
and you are asked not to burn—but to nurture the fire that already lives inside.
"Let the fire touch your bones."
Today, the Sun stretches to its fullest, swelling in the sky like a god drunk on honey and gasoline.
The Solstice is not polite.
It doesn’t whisper.
It roars:
“Look what you've become—look how you burn.”
This is the apex of light,
the climax of the year,
when the Sun sits on its golden throne and demands:
"Show me your joy. Show me your wild."
So what do you do?
You answer.
With bare skin and open throat.
With your chest cracked open to the sky.
With your YES.
With your FUCK YES.
The Solstice doesn’t ask for small.
It wants the full spectrum of your glory.
Your heat.
Your hunger.
Your holy “too much.”
Dance like you're invoking your ancestors’ forgotten gods.
Sing like you're made of thunder and citrus.
Plant your feet in the dirt and remember—
you are not here to dim.
☀️ Solstice Spellcraft: A Tarot & Journaling Ritual for Soul Excavation ☀️
Today, we stand inside the golden mouth of the year.
The Sun, high and holy, pours its light into the cracks we once tried to hide.
This is not just a turning point.
This is a remembering.
The Solstice calls for more than celebration—it calls for soul excavation.
Not the polished kind. The real kind.
The sticky, sweet, sun-drunk spiral into your own radiant underworld.
We do not fear the light here.
We use it as a blade and a balm.
So bring your cards. Bring your pen. Bring your truth, half-feral and half-frightened.
Let’s ask questions we’re brave enough to hear.
Let’s let the tarot be mirror and map, and our words be offerings laid at the altar of becoming.
This is not just a journaling practice.
It’s a spell you write with your own blood and nectar.
It’s the ceremony of being willing to know yourself more.
And to name it.
🔥 5-Card Solstice Tarot Spread: “The Light I Tend”
1/The Root of My Becoming
What inner truth or desire has quietly been growing beneath the surface?
2/The Fire That Fuels Me
What passion, hunger, or calling wants more of my devotion?
3/The Shadow Cast by My Own Light
What fear, pattern, or illusion do I face when I begin to shine fully?
4/ The Offering to My Future Self
What can I gift, commit to, or release in order to grow into the life I crave?
5/ The Radiance I Am Ready to Embody
What divine quality, gift, or version of myself wants to rise and be lived out loud?
📝 Journaling Prompts to Follow the Spread
- Card 1: Where in my life have I undervalued what has taken root? What parts of me are ready to be seen as sacred?
- Card 2: What lights me up, even when no one is watching? How can I commit to feeding that flame daily?
- Card 3: What stories do I tell myself about visibility, success, or worth? What am I afraid will happen if I let myself be fully seen?
- Card 4: What can I leave behind at the edge of this Solstice? What would it look like to act as though I already trust the future me?
- Card 5: Write a love letter from this future, radiant self. What do they say about who you are becoming—and how you got there?
✨ Close your ritual with this affirmation-spell, spoken aloud:
"I am the light I’ve been waiting for.
I am the warmth, the witness, and the wild prayer.
I do not shrink from my shine.
I rise with it."
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