Subtle Solstice: Holding the Tension of Opposites at 26° Latitude
Editor’s Note: This reflection completes our 2025 seasonal trilogy. After exploring the “relentless solar nature” of Summer in Southwest Florida and the balancing point of the Autumnal Equinox, Dr. Annemarie Connor now guides us into the subtle, internal landscape of the Winter Solstice at 26° North.
Here in the subtropics of Southwest Florida, the shortest day and longest night of the year come together more subtly than in the greater latitudes of either pole. This year’s winter solstice falls on Sunday, December 21st, and promises mild temperatures, partly cloudy skies and a sunrise past 7am on Monday morning. As just about anyone who has lived in the Sunshine State for a few winters will confirm, we grow acclimated to the bright sunshine and can experience even a lightly overcast sky as impetus for an afternoon nap or a day spent on the sofa rather than the sand. As I reflect on the symbolic amplifications of the Winter Solstice, I find myself contemplating the contrasting energies of opposites, day and night, sun and moon, warmth and coldness, while pondering how this “tension of opposites” presents when one’s distance to the equator is a mere 26°.
Jung, Lake Zürich, and the Tension of Opposites
In Collected Works, volume 8, Jung writes: “The greater the tension between the pairs of opposites, the greater will be the energy that comes from them” (1928/1969, para. 49).
The differential between the average high temperature on this Winter Solstice and the most recent Summer Solstice in our region was a mere 10°F, hardly the contrast Dr. Jung would have experienced on any December day, gazing out at the icy edges of Lake Zürich and contemplating his last sail down the shadeless lake in the heat of the summer sun. In fact, the tension of seasonal opposites in Zurich is sometimes so great that summer sailing contrasts winter skating when the vast “Zürichsee” freezes over.
Here we see the lake frozen just south of the Altstadt, or Old Town, in February of 1929.
This scene is a quick twenty-minute ride north on a fast and efficient Swiss train from Jung’s home in Küsnacht. He was 53 years old in 1929 and surely had a similarly icy view from the back of his home on the lake. However, the view from his upstairs home office, his primary workspace and consulting room, would have been limited by the small windows and diffusely lit stained glass. Even more secluded was his smaller office across the hall, a small, dark alchemical lab of sorts, where he wrote The Red Book. Thus, at either solstice, summer or winter, Jung created a work environment that facilitated his focus on the inner work of individuation by segregating his workspace from the extroverted and playful energy of Lake Zurich in any season.
Enantiodromia and the Search for the Third Position
Winter Solstice in the North holds tension dramatically. Here in the South, one must be more intentional to notice the contrast. In the absence of a dramatic outward freezing or winter “death” of nature, we may face greater difficulty in creating a tension that allows one to turn toward the unconscious and the work of individuation. Jung used the Greek concept of enantiodromia, “running contrariwise,” to describe how the tension of opposites can drive one back and forth dramatically and unconsciously between poles (Samuels et al., 1986), such as optimism and pessimism, the symbolic equivalent to summer vs. winter. While this tension is inevitable, and a natural law espoused by the Greek philosopher Heraclitus, it leads to true transformation only when the transcendent, the new, the third position emerges beyond the opposites.
Perhaps the relentless solar nature of the “Sunshine State” of mind leads naturally to a yearning for the overcast, or the darkness of a more lunar, reflective stance. Yet lingering on one pole or the other leads to stagnation, and swinging wildly between each position, while perhaps exhilarating, equally leads nowhere. Both poles are necessary yet insufficient to effectively drive the individuation process. Jung might caution us that, according to nature, either pole leads only to its opposite, and if we are to be transformed, we must notice the contrast and become conscious of it in order to develop psychologically. Again, in South Florida, the poles are not so distinct, which may put one at risk of falling into a state where we metaphorically expect sunshine without shadow.
Lessons from the Mangrove: A Subtle Sacrifice
So, at this Southwest Florida Winter Solstice, let us strive to find ways to be more conscious, more “awake” in our naps and sofa retreats, so that we might experience an internal “winter” that helps us temper unconscious polarization (CW, 6 Para 709) and find something new and unexpected under the sun, perhaps even sacrifice that which no longer serves us. As an example of holding this tension, consider the mangrove trees that line our brackish waterways. In contrast to the Death-Rebirth archetype evoked by the denuding of leaves in the deciduous forests of the North, here the transformation is more subtle. The mangrove does not dramatically drop its leaves but, instead, sacrifices only those yellowing leaves that hold excess salinity. It slows its production of sap and deepens its roothold in the calmer, winter waters. This shift is not outwardly obvious but is vitally important in the ongoing filtration and stabilization of our estuaries – the lifegiving feeding, breeding, and birthing waters of the Gulf.

Creating Your Own Inner Laboratory
In conclusion, it seems that the subtlety of Winter Solstice at 26-degrees latitude offers us the opportunity to be invited gently into the winter season and to ponder what aspects of our personal psychological geography might be symbolized in the softening of the winter sunshine, the sacrifice of a few salty leaves, or the deepening of our hold on the deep, perhaps ancestral, layer of our psyches. Beyond a date on the calendar, Winter Solstice in the subtropics is an opportunity to pause, not as in retreat from the cold and ice of the North, but in a humid and heavy stillness that allows one to reflect and discern what little deaths or sacrifices may be offered in service to inner peace, abundance, and the growing light of consciousness as the days grow longer. How will you create your own inner alchemical laboratory this solstice? Mine will surely include a brief afternoon nap, allowing a deadline or two to slip past, sunset out on the salty backwaters of the mangroves and, hopefully, the bringing to light of some small, new, precious facet of the Self.
-Dr. Annemarie Connor, CGJSS Board Member
Works Cited
Jung, C. G. (1969). The structure and dynamics of the psyche (R. F. C. Hull, Trans.; 2nd ed.). Princeton University Press. (Original work published 1928)
Jung, C. G. (1971). Psychological types (H. G. Baynes, Trans.; R. F. C. Hull, Rev.). Princeton University Press. (Original work published 1921)
Jung, C. G. (2009). The Red Book: Liber novus (S. Shamdasani, Ed.; M. Kyburz & J. Peck, Trans.). W. W. Norton & Co. (Original work written c. 1913–1930)







