Summer Solstice: Becoming the Radiance

Welcome, dear ones! I’m so grateful you’re here! Your presence, curiosity, and the beautiful community we’re creating together mean the world to me. Together, we really are ushering in the more relational way. If you’re new, you can learn more about Spirit Connections on the About Page, and if you’d like to journey more closely with us, you can subscribe below. 💖💖💖

Here in New Mexico, summer doesn’t arrive, it insists. By the time the solstice rolls around, the days are already long and ruthlessly bright. My morning walks have turned into an elaborate game of shade-hopping: one patch of shadow to the next, trying to make it to the end of the block without getting scorched.

The other morning, mid-hop, I stopped and actually looked at the sun. Not for long—after all, this is the high desert, not a poetry retreat—but long enough for one word to drop into my mind and stay there:

Radiance.

I’ve been sitting with it ever since.

What radiance actually is

We use the word a lot. We tell people they’re radiant. We talk about glowing. But standing there in the heat, watching the sun pour itself out onto the cracked earth, I started to feel what the word actually means in its bones.

The sun isn’t trying to shine. There’s no effort in it, no performance, no internal pep talk about showing up brighter today. It just is. Its light is pure overflow, it’s what happens when something is so full it simply can’t help but move outward. You see it all the time in smaller ways: sunlight hitting water and scattering into a thousand directions. Laughter that escapes before you’ve decided to laugh. A child so absorbed in joy they start twirling.

That’s the version of radiance I’m interested in. The kind that doesn’t ask us to generate anything from scratch, but just to be so full that something spills out.

So I’ve been feeling this solstice as an invitation to do just that. To expand the intake. To really receive what’s being offered, to the point of overflow, rather than immediately jumping to giving it away.

And here’s what I’ve noticed: when I actually let something good land in me, really land, it doesn’t stay stuck. It moves. A few minutes of sitting in genuine gratitude and something in me softens and naturally wants to reach toward someone else. No striving. The filling and the radiating aren’t two separate things. One just naturally becomes the other.

If you want to try this out for yourself today, here is the gentle structure I’ve been using:

This is simple. It takes about ten minutes, though you can stretch it longer if you want. It works best in the morning, but honestly, any time is fine.

1. Find a moment of stillness. Sit somewhere comfortable. Outside is lovely if you can manage it, even a doorstep, a fire escape, a patch of grass. Close your eyes, or soften your gaze downward.

2. Choose something good. Think of one thing that has genuinely filled you lately. It doesn’t have to be enormous. It could be a conversation, a piece of music, the way the light looked at a particular moment, the feeling of being understood by someone. Just one real thing.

3. Let it land and expand. This is the practice inside the practice. Don’t just think about it, actually let it arrive in your body. Where do you feel it? Does your chest soften? Does something release in your shoulders? Stay here longer than maybe feels necessary.

4. Notice when it wants to move. There’s usually a moment—subtle, but real—when the feeling shifts from receiving to something that wants to go outward. A quiet fullness. A warmth that has nowhere left to expand except toward someone else. Just rest here until it happens.

5. Carry it into your day. Without it being a project or another to-do, just let that quality of warmth move through your ordinary moments exactly as you feel like it. Maybe a text you send, the way you listen to someone, the patience you extend in a frustrating moment, the way you look at a stranger. No forcing. Just overflow.

That’s it. Nothing to get wrong. It’s just a practice of becoming, for a little while, a small sun.

I also have a downloadable Summer Solstice/Litha ritual pack available for anyone who would like a little more support for this season.

Inside, you’ll find reflections, simple practices, journal prompts, and a ritual for working with the energy of the solstice in a grounded, accessible way. It’s meant to be something you can move through slowly, return to over time, or simply let inspire your own way of honoring the longest day.

Since paid subscriptions are currently on pause, I’m making this seasonal pack free for everyone.

You can download it here:

https://spiritconnections.love/downloadable-library

May it help you receive the light, tend your own radiance, and carry a little warmth forward into the days ahead.

I’m turning much of my creative attention right now toward writing the book version of Sacred Roots, my ancestral healing course and body of work, which means my posts here may be a little less frequent for the time being.

I’m also keeping paid subscriptions on pause for this time. This gives me room to tend the deeper work without feeling like I need to keep producing on a set schedule, and it also allows these seasonal offerings to be shared more freely.

This isn’t a goodbye, just a season of deeper tending.

I’m so grateful for all of you who continue to read, gather, practice, and walk beside this work. I’ll still be sharing here when there’s something meaningful to offer, and I’m especially looking forward to sharing a few upcoming workshops and evergreen resources as they come into form.

And if you ever want to reach me, ask a question, or share something with me, you’re welcome to send me a direct message here or email me anytime at jenna@spiritconnections.love

For now, may this Solstice offering meet you gently.