Winter Solstice

(wind whooshing) The streets of Snowville, glisten like a living painting. A few snowflakes drift past, turning slowly as they catch the lamplight on their way down. Shopkeepers close up their storefronts as warm glows spill from the open doorways and chimneys send curls of wood smoke into the night. There's a certain magic that's in the air on this winter solstice as if you can almost hear the glimmering of the stars. As we prepare for our visit, let's take a moment to unwind and settle in. Tonight's exercise is a really simple breathing exercise. So when you're ready, let's begin. (wind whooshing) (chimes chiming) So first, get yourself comfortable. Now just bringing the attention to the breath. Just noticing where you feel it. In the nose, the throat, the chest, the diaphragm. You're nice and relaxed. We are going to be taking a deep breath in for four, holding it for four, and then breathing out for six. So, are you ready? Let's begin. In for four, two, three, four. Hold it for four. Two, three, four. Now breathing out for six. Two, three, four, five, six. In for four. Two, three, four. Holding for four. Two, three, four. Out for six. Two, three, four, five, six. In for four. Two, three, four. Holding for four. Two, three, four. Out for six. Two, three, four, five, six. In for four. Two, three, four. Holding for four. Two, three, four. Out for six. Two, three, four, five, six. Great. Now, returning the breath to normal. (wind whooshing) Along a narrow lane leading toward the square, a soft procession begins. The neighbors move steadily through the snow, each one carrying a single taper candle from home, a yearly tradition to brighten the longest night. At the front of the line, a woman with silvery gray curls framing her face holds a match no bigger than her thumb. Her expression is easy with the gentle attention of someone who has done this many winters before. She strikes the match against a small tin striker, a quick rasp in the stillness and touches it to her candle. The wick catches with a pop of gold, a bead of light blooming into shape. (matchstick clicks) One by one, each candle leans toward another, the light traveling down the line, neighbors and shopkeepers cup their hands around the candlelit flames. Whenever the mountain breeze drifts through their palms forming small shelters of warmth. Soon the entire lane glows. A quiet corridor of shared light. Coats and scarves pick up threads of color and the snow at their feet seems to blush as though reflecting a different kind of sunset. The group moves at an easy pace toward the center of town where every small flame will gather at the hearth. (wind whooshing) (chimes chiming) Inside Little Moon Bakery, the cozy sister location to night town's well-known Moonrise bakery, the overhead lights are warm and low. Near the entrance, a small wooden sign hangs in the window stamped...