The Energy of Winter 2026 | A New Cycle
The air is crisp and quiet. A blanket of snow tucks us in, heavy and gentle, like the weight of a quilt over our bodies. Winter is midnight stretching long, moving toward sunrise, as we turn toward the light—but first, rest. Let brittle energy shatter in your sleep, like an old day breaking free from where it stifled you. Let dreams, beautiful and terrible, mingle the old and the possible into a brew too mystical to grasp.
Winter is our old selves and our new dreams all at once—the elder and the incubating. It is spacious, layered, complex. It asks for detachment, the kind that mirrors sleep itself: a letting go into uncertainty. What will you release, and what will you dare to dream? What will you cling to too tightly in this first third of winter, even as it already shows a crack? And what will you finally allow to shatter in midwinter—freedom and bitterness, coolness and liberation entwined? What will you surrender to as the season wanes, too weary to hold on, yet trusting that dreams will carry you somewhere inconceivable, where light and shadow merge into one?
In a mythic sense, winter echoes the words of Jesus in the Gospels of Matthew and Mark: “It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of God.” I hear this not as a call to reject the material world, but as a reminder: the more we clutch, the harder it is to let go—to liberate, to surrender, to return to the primordial soup of creation. Each winter presents a quiet test: can you release what life asks you to release, or will you grasp, claw, and hoard what is already falling apart? Can you let it go? Can you trust a touch of chaos as the scaffolding of a new, unknowable order?
What makes life meaningful? This is the perennial question of winter’s brittle season. Detachment invites perspective. We step back, surveying the whole: what has it all been for? What gives weight to our striving, our love, our hate, our suffering, joy, grief, greed, generosity, connection, separation, ignorance, and wisdom? What has it all meant? Winter is existential. To detach is not avoidance—it is a paradoxical act of attention, observation, and integration. The answer is personal. Your answer will not be mine. And yet, in witnessing the question swirl in the full spectrum of human experience, we begin to see what we uniquely contribute—not from ego, not to leave a mark, but in response to the call of light: our personal meaning offered, even anonymously, to the world’s unfolding.
The power of this winter does not lie in abandonment. It lives in leaning into the magic of uncertainty.
From Wood snake to Fire Horse, and a new 9-year cycle
2026 Chinese Animal & Numerology
A Reflection on 2025’s Fire Snake & 9 year
As we approach the Winter Solstice—the true start of winter in the astrological wheel—the Sun is reborn. Daylight begins its slow return. We have about ten days between the astrological new year and the calendar one to reflect on the year that’s passing and prepare for the one about to begin.
Looking back on 2025 and its Chinese Wood Snake ruler, I see something that hadn’t quite crystallized before. Wood, being a spring element, pushes—it’s growth itself. The yang expression of Wood is like a tree expanding its rings, strong and steady in its upward reach. The yin expression, which we experienced this past year, is more like grasses and vines—softer, spreading, even viral in its growth. It’s not as hardy, but profoundly connective. Wood in all forms is resilient. Yet the yin Wood of the Snake year—the spreading, searching kind—attached itself to a spiritual, philosophical animal. This Snake was not shy. Its wisdom and mysticism were assertive, sometimes even forceful.
In numerology, 2025 was a 9 year—the culmination of a long cycle of growth and integration. While I write these words in November, weeks before the Solstice, I can already feel the reflection arising: since 2017, our last 1 year, we (especially in the U.S.) have been in a kind of fever dream—a delirium that began when Trump first took office at the start of this now-ending nine-year cycle. He was an agent of chaos whose influence reached full expression in this 9 year, universalizing its consequences.
While Trump’s divisiveness, greed, and consolidation of power have caused deep harm, I do believe there’s a strange purpose to the presence of psychopaths in history. Saltburn offers a striking study of this. When a construct begins to collapse, those at the top reveal the rot first—taking in strays, losing meaning, descending into indulgence. Privilege without conscience becomes debauchery (does that feel resonant right now?). Some, realizing the unfairness of their position, are paralyzed by guilt yet do nothing to change it, while others consolidate too much to keep track of and hold together. Felix takes Oliver in as a stray, offering him his privileged world. Oliver, the covert psychopath, senses the unraveling and feeds on it. Psychopaths destroy what is broken. They cause real and lasting harm, yes—but they also accelerate collapse when collapse is overdue. They are the hungry dragons of the human story, feeding on the death of systems.
Eventually, though, the psychopath consumes even their own foundation. Their selfishness isolates them. They’re cast out, and new, more mature building begins. Perhaps the past nine years have been the psychopath cycle—a collective purging where hungry dragons smashed what no longer served. Could humanity have done this more gracefully? Likely. But perhaps we are not yet emotionally intelligent enough to evolve without a bit of fire.
Will the next nine-year cycle again center around destruction? I don’t know. What gives me hope is the recent shift in public consciousness. The midterm elections in the U.S. suggested a turning point: progressives swept in many regions, bringing fresh ideas and movements. One figure that caught my attention was Zohran Mamdani, the Socialist Democratic mayor-elect of New York City. Might he offer a blueprint for new, inclusive forms of leadership? There will be wins and losses, of course, but the energy feels different—bold, necessary, impossible to return from. The old structure IS shattering. The seed and summit point we’ve been in for the past year was a point of creating blueprints. We need to be looking for and creating the long-term plans we want for the future. With 2026 being a 1 year, I think we still have another year to make revolutionary long-term blueprints.
2026 Fire Horse & 1 year
2026 begins a whole new cycle. We start with 1.
(2 + 0 + 2 + 6 = 10; 1 + 0 = 1)
A 1 year acts like a magnet. It draws clarity, leadership, and creation. It asks: what becomes singular in focus? What carries a charge that feels pioneering and true?
In numerology, 1 is ruled by the Sun—the great unifier, the light that cuts through chaos to clarify and direct. It is the number of beginnings, but also of selfhood. Sometimes selfish, sometimes radiant, always creative.
So, who is stepping up as a leader—in the world, in your community, in your own life? Where are you being asked to claim clarity and command? Seek direction, creation, and magnetism. And perhaps most importantly: seek leaders who deserve to lead. Listen for new voices with unifying messages. Ask yourself how you might bring clarity to your own circles.
Alongside the new numerological cycle, we also enter the Chinese Year of the Fire Horse on February 4th. While the Lunar New Year follows the second new moon after the Solstice, the astrological animal year always begins when the Sun reaches 315°—typically February 4th.
Let’s start with Fire. Attached to a masculine, dynamic animal, this is Yang Fire—a burning energy like the Sun or a great bonfire (as opposed to Yin Fire, which flickers like candlelight). Yang Fire is adventurous, creative, passionate, and consuming. It brings unquenchable love but can also scorch the earth.
Pay attention to your passions this year. In a fiery 1 year, the impulse to act is high. Are your flames illuminating or burning bridges? Is your enthusiasm exuberant or overzealous? You may charge ahead more than once, only to circle back for recalibration. All action and little planning can feed hunger but rarely sustains long-term success—though beginner’s luck may abound.
This is a year for clarifying what lights you up, not necessarily for building the long-term structures to hold it. Those foundations will come later. For now, enjoy the ignition. Make an 18-year plan and burn it the next day. While I brought up long-term planning earlier, which I still think is necessary to find new blueprints, allow your passion to transform what you believe to be possible. Blueprints are suggestions and starting points—a way to focus goals and aspirations. Don’t treat them as solid, unbendable, written-in-stone orders. Treat them as mediations that can help you see where you are bored, stale, and brittle. Set that stodgy old script on fire and allow the big picture of what you want to build in life to change.
Adding the Horse amplifies everything—movement, freedom, connection, and play. The Horse brings humor, heart, and high spirits. It saves us from taking ourselves too seriously, reminding us to enjoy the ride for what it is. Learn new things. Work hard. Play hard. Socialize. Try not to burn out.
While Fire can inflame conflict, my hope is that the 1 year’s solar focus will encourage independence of thought rather than herd mentality.
A Year to Set the Tone
2026 is important. The energy we cultivate now will echo through the next nine years. Pay attention to what begins. Seek unity. Seek clarity. Seek heart.
This will be a passionate, magnetic year—charged with new ideas and fresh voices. Many of us are waking up to the power structures that have long preyed on a broken world (especially in the past 9 years). The old dragons are full; they’ve devoured their purpose. Now it’s our turn to build something luminous from the ashes.
Winter Numerology in the Snake/Horse year
In a 1 numerological year, every month number moves forward one from its core number. When you add January (1) to the ignition of the 1 year, you get 2. There is a sense that things are moving forward from where we’ve been. While 1 in numerology is ruled by the Sun, it also has self-interested qualities. Try to be mindful of others this year, even as you hold on tight to your own rapid growth.
Let’s peer into the numerological vibration of the winter months to gain insight into the collective energy we might experience. While each of us has a personal month number in numerology, this reflection observes the universal qualities of these months.
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We end the year with an extra dose of fun, expression, and sociability. Breakthroughs deserve celebration, communities want to gather, and color longs to be shared. It feels as though something opens in the world—an awakening of connection and wisdom worth expressing and enjoying.
The 3 loves to play, experiment, and create a buzz. Under the wise gaze of the 9 and the influence of the Snake year, celebration feels both collective and subtle—like a piece of art that unites the world in quiet joy, or an insight that opens the collective heart. Something light yet wise has the power to mend deep philosophical divides. After the intensity of the 11 month, anything feels possible. The expressive energy of the 3 adds color to the year’s sensual wisdom, turning reflection into radiance.
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November 2025 brought us an 11 month number, and remarkably, it returns just two months later. Not every year carries an 11, so to receive it twice in such close succession is extraordinary. The 11 vibration is high-frequency, visionary, and collective-minded—it reminds us to lift our gaze toward what’s possible for humanity.
Unlike November’s closing cycle, this January’s 11 opens a new one. We’ve crossed the threshold into a fresh 9-year journey. This 11 looks forward rather than back—it’s about future vision, not integration. Capricorn and Aquarius seasons bring structure and innovation, asking us to plan wisely and dream boldly.
Still in the Wood Snake year, this month gives growth to new and inspired philosophies and spiritual insights. What is your dream for the future? Get close and touch your dreams the way a snake stays close to the ground. Allow wild-card possibilities and frequency shifts to guide you toward the next version of yourself—and of the world.
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December also carried a 3 vibration, but then it celebrated reflection; now, the 3 energy serves the fresh momentum of a 1 year.
This is a month to flirt with life—to experiment, explore, and dare new beginnings. Under Aquarius and Pisces influences, creative collaborations spark easily and carry an inspired charge. By the month’s end, the 3’s musical, spiritual tone softens the air—inviting imagination, compassion, and wonder.
Still, take care not to drift too far into escapism. The end-of-month urge to dissolve can lead to creative breakthroughs or confusion—depending on your focus. Let your play feed purpose.
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It’s been an exciting ride since November 2025, but the 4 arrives now as a grounding force. It asks us to get practical—to turn sparks into structures and dreams into foundations.
The 4 month calls for responsibility and sustained effort. What needs cleaning up? What plans require shaping? Where can you build containers strong enough to hold your passions? Channel the Horse’s drive into steady work; its stamina is unmatched when focused on purpose.
Pisces season softens the first half of the month with imagination and vision, urging us to build from our dreams. As spring and Aries season approach, the 4’s energy crystallizes into clear direction—ready to construct what the winter inspired.
From Celebration to Structure
As the Wood Snake exhales and the Fire Horse prepares to run, the numbers shift from 3’s joy to 4’s foundation. A bridge of play, vision, and becoming carries us from reflection into renewal.
December opens the heart with color—
a chorus of laughter at the edge of the year.
The 3 sings of play,
of wisdom shared through joy,
of hands that paint light into the cracks of endings.
Something opens—subtle, collective—
like a secret art that unites the world in quiet awe.
January rises as an 11—
a mirror, a bridge,
a high note calling us into the future.
Yet the Wood Snake still coils beneath the frost,
listening, teaching us to move with care.
This is the last month of the old rhythm—
one more shimmer of quiet knowing
before the fire awakens.
Capricorn builds the scaffolding,
Aquarius fills it with sky.
The Snake whispers: vision must have roots.
The dream glows, but patience keeps it alive.
February hums with 3 again—
but now the song is new.
The Fire Horse stamps its hooves,
and the world quickens.
We flirt with possibility,
dance with change,
and weave bright threads with kindred minds.
As Pisces mists the horizon,
we learn the fine line
between escape and imagination—
between drifting and divine play.
Then March arrives with the weight of 4—
steady, grounded, patient.
Dreams gather into form,
foundations hum beneath our feet.
The winter dissolves,
Aries stirs,
and what began as celebration
becomes the framework of a future
ready to be built.
The World, the Star & the Moon
TAROT SYMBOLISM FOR THE Winter SOLAR SEASONS
Trickster’s Journey Tarot
CAPRICORN SEASON (DECEMBER 21 - JANUARY 19) | THE WORLD
After the wide-angled quest of Sagittarius, we arrive at the summit—Capricorn Season, the crown of the zodiacal year. Here, the climb culminates in The World, the tarot’s emblem of completion. The journey has come full circle; the structure stands. Celebration, mastery, and recognition meet us at this peak—but so too does gravity. To stand atop the mountain is to feel the full weight of what it took to get here.
In The World card, we often see a figure—sometimes pregnant—encircled by the four living creatures of the fixed signs: the Bull, the Lion, the Eagle, and the Human. They represent the stability, endurance, and respect earned through integration. Capricorn, ruled by Saturn, honors such maturity. It knows that every achievement is both an ending and a beginning—that one framework must complete for a new dream to gestate within it.
To hold The World is to hold responsibility, authority, and power. Success offers a sweeping view, but also the sobering awareness of how much there is to sustain. The mountain’s pressure is immense, yet it is precisely this pressure that crystallizes the seed of the next vision. What once was effort becomes wisdom; what once was striving becomes stewardship.
This season asks: how will you carry your crown? How will you wield the respect you’ve earned and channel it into what’s next? Capricorn reminds us that completion is not closure—it’s coherence. It’s the moment the dream meets form, and the form begins to dream again. Standing at the summit, we honor the weight, the work, and the wonder of the whole ascent—and listen for the next pulse stirring beneath the stone.
AQUARIUS SEASON (JANUARY 19 - FEBRUARY 18) | THE STAR
After the summit of Capricorn, a hush follows—the quiet after completion, when the weight of achievement gives way to the clarity of sky. Aquarius Season arrives as the dawn after the mountain, and its tarot counterpart, The Star, speaks to what comes once the old world has been built, tested, and laid to rest. Here, under vast constellations, the soul breathes again.
The Star is the card of renewal and divine reminder—the return of faith after collapse, the first clear light after the storm. Where The World sealed one cycle, The Star opens a new dimension of vision. Aquarius, ruled by Saturn and co-ruled by Uranus, carries both the architect’s discipline and the revolutionary’s spark. It gathers the wisdom of what was and streams it toward what could be.
In the imagery of The Star, a figure kneels by the water, pouring from two vessels—one into the earth, one into the flow. She shows that inspiration must circulate: grounding innovation in practice, and offering wisdom back to the collective. Aquarius energy is this flow embodied—the pulse of systems reimagined, structures reformed, and ideas poured freely into shared currents.
This season asks: what do you pour forth now that the old vessel is full? What vision can you hold that benefits not only yourself but the greater whole? The Star reminds us that hope is not naive—it’s radical alignment with the future we are brave enough to imagine. From the stillness after striving, Aquarius teaches that liberation begins with re-enchantment. We rebuild the world by remembering the light that still shines within it.
PISCES SEASON (FEBRUARY 18 - MARCH 20) | THE MOON
After the clear light of The Star, we drift into the shimmer and shadow of The Moon. Pisces Season is the zodiac’s final passage—the return to source, the dreamtime between worlds. Here, we dissolve what the year has built, allowing the boundaries of form to soften so something subtler can speak through.
In The Moon card, the path winds through mist. The familiar gives way to reflection and symbol, to the animal instincts and ancient tides that move beneath the conscious mind. Pisces, ruled by Neptune, rules this domain of feeling and illusion, where truth reveals itself through image, emotion, and intuition rather than logic. To walk by moonlight requires trust: the willingness to see by reflection, to sense what cannot yet be named.
This is the season of surrender and synthesis—the gathering of all twelve signs into one oceanic field. What was once separate begins to merge; what was once solid begins to breathe. The Moon teaches us that not all clarity comes from light—sometimes understanding arrives through the mystery of shadow. Dreams, synchronicities, and emotional tides become our compass now, guiding us toward inner reconciliation.
Pisces reminds us that endings are never truly endings—they are dissolutions into continuity. The story that began with Aries’ spark now returns to the waters that birthed it. In this twilight between cycles, imagination becomes the bridge to rebirth. The Moon reflects our inner world back to us, asking: can you rest in not knowing, and still trust the pull of the tide? For soon enough, dawn will rise again—and the dream will take new form.
Elements of the seasons
Winter with the Celtic & Qigong seasons
Flowing with Uncertainty in Winter
Throughout human history, many systems have emerged to track the seasons and the subtle energies that influence us. While I primarily use Western Astrology, I also follow a few other seasonal frameworks that add depth and dimension to how I navigate the year.
The Celtic Wheel of the Year is one such system I adore—an eightfold rhythm that pulses through the year with associated directions, elements, animals, deities, and myth.
I’m also fond of Chinese Qigong, which I practice in alignment with its seasonal correspondences—linking directions and elements to organ systems, emotions, and rhythms of health.
The Deep Season: Winter, Water, and Returning Light
In the Celtic Wheel, winter reaches its still point at Yule, the Winter Solstice, when the Sun pauses in the dark before beginning its slow return. Unlike the modern calendar, which sees this moment as winter’s beginning, the Celtic year considers it midwinter—the heart of the dark half of the year. The seeds of spring are already gestating underground, even as frost still holds the land in silence.
In this rhythm, winter stretches from Samhain (Nov 1) through Imbolc (Feb 1), encompassing both the descent and the first subtle stirrings of return. Yule marks the pivot—the rebirth of the Sun. The north holds sway, the element is earth, and the guardian is the Crone, who tends the wisdom of dormancy.
Modern astrology, however, moves us through Capricorn, Aquarius, and Pisces—a trinity of seasons that together describe the alchemy of endurance, renewal, and release.
Capricorn Season: The Weight of the Summit
In Capricorn, we reach the summit of the solar year, the mountain peak where structure crystallizes. This is the World card’s domain—completion and accountability, mastery and gravity. Here, we see the architecture of what we’ve built and the cost of carrying it. Capricorn honors time, patience, and legacy.
In the Celtic rhythm, this is Yule, when the Sun begins to rise again from its darkest night. Though the outer world is still cold, something essential turns inwardly toward life. We are asked to honor both the burden and the beauty of completion—to recognize that endings are also wombs for beginnings.
In Qigong, this corresponds to the depth of the Water element, a time to nourish essence and rest the will. The organs are the kidneys and bladder, and the wisdom is to listen—to the bones, to silence, to what endures beneath ambition. Fear may arise as we confront emptiness, but the medicine is trust.
Aquarius Season: The Thaw of Vision
As the light lengthens, Aquarius brings a crystalline brightness—the first shimmer of renewal through the ice. In the Celtic calendar, this aligns with the approach to Imbolc, the cross-quarter festival that marks the beginning of spring. Imbolc means “in the belly,” a reference to the lambing season and the quickening of life within the womb of Earth.
Aquarius, ruled by air yet born in deep winter, carries the paradox of cold light and social fire. It is the visionary current that runs beneath the frozen surface—the spark of humanity awakening from hibernation. In the Chinese Water element’s later stage, we begin to sense movement; the will (zhi) that was resting now starts to dream of direction.
Just before the shift into Wood (around February 3), Earth returns for 17 days in the Qigong cycle to support this transition. This is a time to ground insight into form, to steady yourself as the new current gathers strength. Earth’s organs—the spleen and stomach—invite nourishment, digestion, and sincere reflection. We translate stillness into purpose.
Pisces Season: Melting into the Stream
By Pisces, winter softens. The waters move again, carrying memory and emotion toward the first green shoots of spring. Pisces dissolves boundaries, reminding us that all forms return to flow. The Crone becomes the Dreamer; the inner world, once sealed in frost, opens to imagination.
In the Celtic Wheel, Imbolc (Feb 1–2) has just passed. The goddess Brigid presides here—a flame of inspiration, poetry, and healing. The element shifts from transitional Earth to Wood, from stillness to stirring. The qi of life, long stored in the roots, begins its subtle ascent.
In Qigong, we move from Water to Wood, from preservation to emergence. The kidneys pass their deep wisdom to the liver, the organ of growth and vision. The body wants to move, stretch, plan, and awaken. The emotional tone transitions from fear to hope, from contraction to expansion.
Pisces teaches us to surrender to this flow, to let dreams dissolve the old structures Capricorn built and Aquarius shattered and reenvisioned, so that something more fluid and compassionate can be born.
The Medicine of Winter
In this season, three elemental teachers converge:
Earth (Capricorn) – Endure and integrate.
Water/Air (Aquarius) – Flow and imagine.
Wood (Pisces) – Awaken and emerge.
Or in the language of Qi:
Store → Stabilize → Stir.
The invitation of winter is to trust the invisible work of restoration. The darkness is not a void but a fertile field. Each breath we take in the stillness of the season draws us closer to our own rebirth.
So as you move through the deep winter months, let the Water within you settle and clarify. Rest your bones. Listen for the first heartbeat of spring beneath the frost.
The world is already turning toward light.
