Happy holidays. All of them. Yes, even the ones with questionable origin stories, political polish, and enough historical blood on the floor to make a museum curator sweat. Still… I love them. I really do.

I love a mass ritual. A global one. A synchronized pause where billions of humans agree, even briefly, to light candles, exchange symbols, eat too much sugar, and pretend kindness is a default setting. That level of collective energy is not accidental. You don’t get that kind of planetary participation without something ancient humming beneath the wrapping paper.

Most holidays began messy. Brutal, even. Sacrifices, power grabs, survival rites, celestial timing, fear dressed as reverence. Then time did what time does. It softened the edges, tucked the sharp parts under lace and tinsel, and handed the story to Disney, Hallmark, and lullabies sung half asleep. The monsters became mascots. The gods became characters. The rituals became “traditions.” Cute. Palatable. Safe.

But the energy never left.

That’s the part people forget. Rituals don’t stop working just because they get a makeover. When millions focus attention on the same symbols at the same time, something moves. Call it psychology, sociology, mythic resonance, or good old-fashioned nervous systems syncing up. Either way, the signal is real.

And this year? The sky is doing things.

Astrologically speaking, Neptune and Saturn have decided to stop beefing and share a moment. Dream logic meets structure. Mysticism shakes hands with consequence. Translation: people may feel inspired, disoriented, spiritually curious, and wildly confident about ideas they absolutely have not stress-tested. Expect vision quests without maps. Manifestations without instructions. A little delusion. A little genius. A lot of “trust me, it came to me in a dream.”

Meanwhile, I’ll be in my small boat. Oars in hand. Calm. Observing. Watching the waves, not arguing with them. Some folks will be trying to surf hurricanes. I’ll be sipping tea and taking notes.

Astronomically, we’re also moving through a season where light returns slowly, patiently, after its annual dip into darkness. This is not metaphor. This is physics. The planet tilts. The sun responds. Life recalibrates. Every culture noticed this long before calendars existed. You don’t need belief for this to work. Gravity does not care what you celebrate.

As for predictions for the year ahead? The usual lineup applies. People will reinvent themselves loudly in January. Gyms will be full for exactly three weeks. Someone will swear this is “the year everything changes.” Tech will promise transcendence. Humans will still be human. Love will surprise you when you’re not looking. Rest will be underrated. Silence will be revolutionary. And those who learn to move with cycles instead of fighting them will quietly win.

So yes, happy holidays. Light the candle. Eat the cookie. Sing the song. Laugh at the absurdity of it all. Participate in the ritual while staying awake inside it.

There is beauty coming. Not loud beauty. Not packaged beauty. The kind that arrives gently, like understanding, like peace you didn’t chase, like realizing you’re already afloat.

From my little boat to wherever you are drifting: may the season be soft, the sky be kind, and your inner nerd feel safe enough to come out and play.

Velvet Horizons, always.