It’s that time of year again. The air in Thailand has shifted slightly, still warm, still humming with cicadas, but my heart feels the tug of something quieter, colder, and deeply familiar. Soon, I’ll be packing up the flowy dresses and barefoot beach mornings and heading back to Germany to celebrate Christmas with my husband, our two wild-hearted boys, and my parents.
There’s something about Germany in December that stirs up the coziest kind of nostalgia in me. The crisp air that turns your nose pink. The markets lit by twinkling fairy lights. The scent of cinnamon, cloves, and roasted almonds wrapping around you like a scarf the moment you step outside. And the snow, oh, I’m hoping for snow.
Even after all these years of living more naturally and spiritually, with sand between my toes and incense curling through my kitchen, I still hold space for the traditions I grew up with. I’m looking forward to Advent candles and my mother’s homemade cookies, the ones I swear she bakes better than anyone else in the world. I’m excited to wrap gifts for the boys that feel more like invitations to wonder than just objects, wooden puzzles, little stories, maybe a hand-carved stone or two.
I’m also craving that sacred feeling that only comes when family gathers in the same space. When laughter from the living room mixes with the soft sounds of dinner being made. When my sons fall asleep near the fireplace after too much excitement. When I get to sit quietly beside my husband with a warm drink in hand, soaking it all in.
And yes, I’ll be bringing my tarot cards with me. Christmas doesn’t mute my spiritual practice, if anything, it deepens it. I love pulling a card during the stillness of early winter mornings, asking what intentions I should carry into the new year. I love watching how even those who don’t usually believe in “that kind of thing” lean in closer around the holidays, open to the magic, the guidance, the grounding.
Germany grounds me too. It reminds me of my roots, of the girl I was before I became a mama, a wanderer, a reader of cards and stars. And even though I adore the wild, spiritual life I’ve built in Thailand, it feels good to return to the old rhythms for a while.
To anyone else traveling back to their roots this season – may your journey be gentle and your heart open. And if you’re staying put, may you find magic exactly where you are.
With warmth and wonder,
Isabella Vale