Summer Solstice Sense-Care
The peak of yang meets the birth of yin
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On Friday, June 20, 2025, the northern hemisphere will experience the longest “day” of the year, aka the Summer Solstice. Of course, the “day” is still 24 hours, so it’s worth clarifying that we are talking about the day with the longest amount of sunlight in our calendar year. Each of us experiences and notices these shifts in our cosmic alignment differently. For many, there’s the familiar end-of-school excitement of casting off the strictures of schedules and homework, and trading them for looser play-clothes. As adults, we may not be able to step away from responsibilities with such complete abandon, but we can still find ways to honor the energy of freedom and expansiveness that all beings under the sun experience this time of year. For me, it’s been refreshing, if not sometimes panic-inducing, to feel the morning light coming through my windows well before my 5:30 am alarm goes off the last week or two; and while in my part of the country we’re bracing for the first hit of summer heat (they’re calling it a “heat dome,” and I appreciate the meteorological poetry there), I feel like this year we’ve had a proper enough spring, and I’ve been staying on top of my self-care well enough, that I am really ready for summer. (Ask me after the heat dome, if it ever ends, and I might have something different to say…)
This procession of seasonal change is one of nature’s gifts, the expression of the Earth’s deep wisdom, experience, and instinct for self-preservation and longevity. She knows that, even though the sun is central—literally—to our universe and life as we know it, the sun can’t be our everything. We get a break every day (in the form of night, and, ideally, sleep), which allows us to reunite with our inner light that maintains homeostasis (in the form of deep digestion, cleansing, and integration of experience) and not become obsessed with, or possessed by, the oh-so-captivating light outside of us; we get longer breaks from sun when we slip past the autumn equinox and into winter, where our faith in and relationship with our inner light is both challenged and reinforced on a more macro level. Emerging from the dark winter, celebrating the return of the sun throughout the late winter and spring, is how nature sustains our faith in the light inside and out.
The summer solstice is a kind of apex of that faith—our bodies are revved up, juiced up, warmed up, ready to LIVE in the form of summer adventures. We feel jivana, vitality, in the form of rakta dhatu, the tissue layer of blood that courses throughout our entire body all the time, but perhaps even more obviously in warmer temperatures. But as the sun shines with all its might, we’re also given a chance to confront—to feel with all of our senses, but especially sight, the sense associated with fire—the responsibilities of jivana. What do we need to do to care for our bodies? Summer imbalances are the most obvious of all—from sunburns and all varieties of skin rashes, to burn out and all varieties of emotional melt-downs (think: airports, long car rides with cranky children or cranky adults, hanger, competition for having the best/coolest/awesome-est summer plans). But it’s also very easy to be too distracted by all the fun things happening out there, our desires and ambitions to travel, read, craft, etc., and miss what’s going on in here. We might be tempted to consume life with eyes that are bigger than our stomach’s true digestive capacity.
The sun itself is the ultimate teacher for the lessons of self-study, svadhyaya, we need to learn in summer school. While it is the center of the universe, important and capable and powerful, the sun’s light does not exist to illuminate itself. The sun’s power is relational, which is something it might be loathe to admit or become resentful about when out of balance. It shines all the time, even when we’re sleeping, and feeds the plants which feed the animals; and yet we can’t even look it in the eye. With such power, the sun must keep itself at a distance from those it nourishes; it must have its own faith in us, even when we turn our gaze away from its intensity. Instead, the sun experiences acknowledgment through reflection—the moonlight that is a balm to the sun’s intensity, the sweet fruits and beautiful flowers that put on a dazzling show during summer, our own growth in body, mind, and spirit that results from honoring our inner light in the form of our digestive fire, our mental discernment, and our commitment to dharma, our unique path of righteous action.
Together, all of these things create an integrated body, a (solar) system, wherein the precise alignment and self-awareness of each individual—the Earth on its axis, the other planets on theirs, the sun burning boldly, steadily, stationary—begets collaboration and harmony. We see this in a more absolute way in the progression of the elements according to Samkhya philosophy:
Space
Air
Fire
Water
Earth
Fire is (again) at the center, and its job of transformation is what allows for the subtle nature of space and air to become manifest in the gross form of water and earth—i.e., consciousness becoming matter. In the other direction, fire can “digest” the gross elements of water and earth into energy and awareness that make up our subtle body, and help us experience that aspect of life through the breath, the mind, and the spirit. Fire needs the other four just as much to keep it in check. Air and water, its immediate neighbors, are the first-responders when fire gets too excited (air can blow it out, water can douse it); and, with more steady application, air and water will feed fire, manifesting as the circadian rhythms of life such as appetite/metabolism, hormonal secretions, wakefulness and sleep, etc. Space and earth, the outermost containers, allow fire to take on a steady, consistent, slow-burn quality—the let fire spread out and calm down (which fire-types know are necessities!). These elements refine fire into its essence as tejas, higher intelligence and divine love.
Tejas is what tethers the molten core of the earth to its reflection, the star 95 million miles away. This is love that knows and respects boundaries, that shines without obligation or expectation, that shows up day after day and gives its light wholly and confidently. This love never burns out because it doesn’t try or pretend to be someone or something other than it Self.
At the summer solstice, we have an opportunity to receive, and begin to remember our ability to project, this kind of light. More often than not, our culture encourages us to be mini-suns—shining bright with our individual brand, our “look,” our “vision” for reality. And while celebrating our uniqueness is exactly what the sun allows us to do, if only focus on the solar and forget the system—the other elements, energies, and beings that give the sun its power and purpose—then we are negating the essence of our interconnected universe. The sun cannot be at the “center” of anything if it is all alone, with no other eyes to recognize it, with no matter and energy to transform around it, even if indirectly. In our individualized society, we’ve traded those eyes for “I”s, and our personal universes are lonely, dark, and cold.
While our modern world might be experiencing a peak of “I” obsession, we know from the ancient texts of yoga and Ayurveda that egotism is not a new problem. These systems were designed to help people move away from misidentification with the ego—in the form of mental fluctuations and our individual tendencies toward imbalance—and toward unification with the whole Self, the center of which is the everlasting, unchanging sun-like light of the Soul. While there are many ways to approach this kind of healing and experience this state of being, I want to offer here a simple interpretation of the Ayurvedic daily routine, or dinacarya, as a way to rekindle our relationship with our five-elemental universe through the five senses that bridge our external and internal worlds—the prisms that refine and refract light as it moves between outside to inside.
On the surface, these practices might seem like a reinforcement of our navel-gazing, individualized perspective that is at the heart of our imbalances. We are devoting attention to our bodies, our needs, our rhythms, our cravings; paying so much attention to ourselves might seem to detract from paying attention to others, to service, to the bigger problems and crises of the world that our hearts feel drawn to support somehow. But without healthy bodies—microcosms of the earth element—we cannot receive, reflect, or project light in any form. Without addressing our need for yin—the literal structure of our tissues, the flow of our inner juices, the sense of contentment, satisfaction, and safety in our minds—the yang that fuels our desire, our passion, our vitality will overtake us and burn us away. In the light of the solstice, we can see most clearly what we need to sustain life—the rhythms of the earth that give it its power, which we experience as self-care. The effects of our self-care shine outward like the sun, inspiring others to follow our lead. From there, a ripple effect of healing can begin, with each of our inner suns at the center, forming a system of light that can survive even the darkest of times.
The days before and after the solstice (or any significant astronomical event, such as a full or new moon, equinox/solstice, or eclipse) are said to be energetically potent and volatile, making them excellent times for self-reflection and assessment rather than big action. These practices might support you in taking an inventory of how your needs are being met, what you really desire for the season ahead (as opposed to what you think you want, or what’s expected of you), and the overall balance of yin versus yang in your personal galaxy.
Sound/Space
Spend time in silence, especially in the early mornings and evenings before bed. Nature stays awake for a longer period of time, meaning her vibrations might be louder and more potent during summer. Listen to the music of life and allow organic, necessary movement to spring from that vibration.
Touch/Air
When the temperature rises, we might not want as much touching our skin externally—products, fabrics, or people. The internal gesture of pranayama can offer a more soothing form of touch that also helps balance our body temperature and steady the movement of prana, minimizing spikes in heat, emotion, and hunger.
Nadi shodhana will bring more overall balance to the system, while cooling breathwork such as chandra bhedana (left-side nostril breathing/moon-piercing breath), sitali pranayama, or lengthened exhalations can calm an overheated system.
Sight/Fire
Let the sun be your alarm clock and relish in your ability to use natural light instead of artificial light for longer periods of time. After dark, ask yourself: what do I need to see now? Where do I need to direct my gaze and attention?
Spend time outside at the seams of the day—dawn and dusk, sunrise and sunset—when it is easier on the eyes to take in the brilliance of the sun. Let this appreciative gaze be a kind of sensory “sun salutation” that doesn’t strain the body or drain it of precious yin through excess or heating movement.
Taste/Water
Assess your pantry and refrigerator for the foods you need to stay balanced in the summer. Notice if your cravings or appetite have changed recently, and spend the week or so around the solstice—called the rtu sandhi, or seasonal joint—to eat a simple diet and allow seasonal cravings to come to the fore. Then, feed them!
Smell/Earth
Make contact with the ground whenever you can—feet on the earth, lying in the grass or on the beach. When the earth in you and the earth around you recognize each other, you’ll reinforce the quality of stability and spaciousness that fire needs to stay even-tempered. Cloud gazing is an excellent practice to invite in earth and space.
If you don’t have easy access to Big Nature, bring it into your space in the form of flowers, houseplants, or rocks/crystals. Tend to them and let that rhythm of care stabilize you.
Summer Solstice Yoga
Enjoy this full-length yoga practice that celebrates the sun through slow flow, restorative, and yin-style movement.