Winter Healing: A First Snow Prayer for Grounding and Returning to Self

Today, on the first snow of the season here in Northern Arizona, something in me softened. The snow arrived quietly, just a thin blanket drifting onto the land I call home. As I stepped outside, I felt my spirit slow down, like the earth was offering me a moment to return to myself.

This prayer came through as a reflection on grounding, winter, and calling ourselves back home during times when life pulls us in many directions. I hope it supports you in your own season of remembering.

First Snow Prayer, For Calling Myself Back Home

Put down the weight you’ve been carrying quietly.
Set aside the thoughts that pull you in too many directions,
the noise of the world,
the expectations that were never yours to hold.

Step outside.
Close the door softly behind you.
Let the cold air greet you like a relative who has missed you.

The first snow is falling, not heavy,
just gently making its way to the earth.
Each flake a small blessing,
a reminder to slow down, to soften, to begin again.

Take a breath offered by this winter morning.
Feel how the air clears you, steadies you.
Give your breath back with gratitude.

Remember the land who holds you,
she is shifting now, settling into rest.
She invites you to do the same:
to lay down what you no longer need,
to listen more quietly, more deeply.

Let your feet touch the snow-dusted ground.
Let the chill awaken the parts of you
that have wandered too far from home.

The earth knows your steps.
She remembers you, even when you forget yourself.

Honor the birds, the small creatures, the ones who stay through winter.
They are teachers of endurance, of trust, of cycles.

Do not rush.
Healing moves at the pace of the seasons
sometimes fast, sometimes barely at all.

Watch your mind; it may try to outrun the stillness.
Watch your heart; it moves with the rhythm of truth.

Stand where the quiet settles around you.
Let the snowfall cleanse you
a winter blessing falling softly on your shoulders,
melting old shame, old fear, old stories
that no longer belong to you.

Call upon those who love you
ancestors, animals, the wind, the mountain,
the ones who appear in dreams or in sudden knowing.

Call your spirit back.
Call gently, like calling a child inside from the cold:
“Come home now. You’re safe with me.”

Gather every piece that returns,
even the fragile ones.
Warm them in your hands.
Let them rest.

When you feel whole enough, even if not complete,
offer thanks.
Invite in warmth.
Make room for joy, for rest, for the quiet medicine of winter.

And then, when your heart is ready
turn toward the next person searching in the dark.
Offer your light, your presence, your knowing.
Help them find their way home too.

Written by Florina Clashin

What Winter Invites

As a Dine’ therapist in Northern Arizona, the first snow always reminds me of how the land invites us back into balance. Winter invites us into stillness, but stillness can be uncomfortable when we’re used to moving fast, holding everything together, or carrying more than we speak about.

If you’re in a season of transition, grief, trauma healing, or reconnection, you’re not alone. This is the work I walk with clients through using trauma-informed, IFS-centered, and nature-based approaches.

This prayer is a reminder that returning to ourselves doesn’t require perfection, only gentleness, presence, and the willingness to listen to what the land is teaching us.

If You’d Like Support

If this prayer resonated with you and you’re seeking deeper support, you’re welcome to schedule a free 15-minute consultation to see if working together feels like a good fit.