Crossing the threshold

Autumn Equinox & the Celtic Wheel of the Year

Today is the Autumn Equinox, a beautiful threshold in the turning of the Celtic Wheel of the Year. For a moment, day and night are held in balance across the world. In the northern hemisphere we then begin to tilt to darkness outweighing the light. The trees are beginning to let go, the mornings are cooler, the evenings are drawing in, and there is a palpable shift in the landscape around us.

I love these moments of transition because they invite us to pause and actually notice where we are. Rather than moving from one season to the next without thought, the Autumn Equinox gives us an opportunity to mark the turning, acknowledge what the light half of the year brought us and ask ourselves where we would like to direct our energy for the forthcoming seasons.

From here, we move gradually into the dark half of the year: through autumn, towards Samhain, then into the deep stillness of Winter Solstice and eventually, slowly, towards the returning light. For me, this is an invitation to consciously shift with the season rather than expecting myself to maintain the same pace and energy all year round. This is at the heart of my seasonal and cycle-awareness approach to yoga, which allows our practice, our energy and our rituals to change as the natural world changes around us.

Entering the witching season

There is something wonderfully witchy about this time of year. The gathering darkness, the release in nature, the firelight and the feeling of the landscape becoming quieter all invite us to pay attention to things that can easily be drowned out when life is busy.

The witching season, for me, is about becoming more attentive to these quieter rhythms and to the shadows. It is a time for asking what I am ready to release, what has reached the end of its season and what wants to be given space to rest and transform. It also provides space to connect to the liminal, the otherworld, as the veil thins.

Samhain deepens this invitation. Traditionally associated with the end of the harvest and the beginning of winter, it is a threshold between what has been and what is yet to come. It offers a natural time for remembering, honouring endings and turning towards the unseen.

I find myself drawn at this time of year to the archetype of the Dark Mother — the feminine associated with mystery, darkness, transformation, death and the unseen work that takes place beneath the surface. She is the bone mother, bird woman, she is the bare trees, the ancient rocks, the dark caves, the damp nourishing soil that holds the seeds over the winter; a reminder that not all growth needs to be visible.

I also love the figure of the Cailleach, the powerful winter presence found across Gaelic folklore. She is the crone, the hag, the dark mother, associated in different traditions with winter, wild landscapes, mountains and the forces of nature. Whether we meet her through folklore, archetype or personal mythology, she represents something I find increasingly valuable: a wildness that connects us deep into the earth and into the wise part of ourselves. The part that knows the importance of releasing, composting and breaking down as part of the death phase in the life-death-rebirth cycle.

The trees don't apologise for losing their leaves. The land doesn't try to bloom through winter. There is wisdom in allowing ourselves to slow, release and turn inwards.

The darkness within

Winter can also touch something ancient in us. Cold, darkness and isolation can trigger innate fears, even when we have warmth, shelter and light readily available. The body remembers the instinct to retreat, protect and conserve. As someone who used to be a sun worshipper and would try to avoid winter, adapting yoga to the seasons of my internal cycle and to the Wheel of the Year has completely shifted the way I feel about each of the seasons, especially winter.

Rather than seeing winter as something to overcome, I now look forward to the benefits of this season. The space to slow, to rest, to seek solitude and forms of connection.

I’ve discovered that yoga becomes such a valuable way of moving through the Wheel of the Year. Seasonal yoga gives us a way of meeting change through the body rather than simply thinking about it. As the light diminishes, we might naturally be drawn towards practices that are slower, more grounding and restorative, with greater attention to breath, sensation, sound and stillness. At other times, we may need movement to shift stagnant energy and reconnect with vitality.

The practice is learning to listen and attune.

Planning for joy

One of the things I’ve realised helps me enjoy winter is consciously planning for joy.

Winter doesn't have to be something we simply endure until spring. If we know that darkness and cold can affect our energy, we can intentionally create warmth, connection and beauty.

For me, this means sauna, fires, theatre, star gazing, time with family and friends, wandering through the arboretum and watching the landscape change. It means making warming food, creating more space for inner reflection and choosing practices that help me slow down and nest.

These simple things can become seasonal rituals. Sitting beside a fire, cooking nourishing food, walking amongst bare trees or looking up at a winter sky can all become ways of reconnecting with something older and larger than ourselves.

They say that if we repeat something twice it can become a tradition, and if we do it with intention it becomes a ritual. Perhaps seasonal living isn't about adding more rituals to our lives, but about becoming more present to the practices already woven through our everyday lives and ritualising what is already there.

Marking the Wheel of the Year

The Celtic Wheel of the Year reminds us that life is cyclical. There are seasons for expansion and seasons for retreat, for flowering and falling, for gathering and releasing.

The Autumn Equinox asks us to pause at the point of balance. Samhain invites us to go deep into the earth, the shadow and to connect to the ancestors. Winter Solstice brings us to the longest night and reminds us that even in the deepest darkness, the light is already beginning its return. Imbolc gets us to gently begin to open back out to the world.

We don't have to rush any of it.

The seed doesn't need to prove that it is growing while it is underground. Perhaps we can offer ourselves the same perspective.

For me, marking these seasonal thresholds through yoga, ritual and reflection is a way of remembering that we are not separate from nature. We are part of these cycles too. Our energy changes, our needs change and our inner landscapes change. The practice is learning to move with those changes rather than continually pushing against them.

Samhain, Winter Solstice & Dark Moon in Bristol

This is the energy I want to bring into my seasonal offerings at Yoga Rewild over the coming months.

At Samhain, I'll be gathering for Samhain Yoga, Soundbath & Tea Ceremony here in St George, Bristol, creating space to honour this threshold through movement, myth, sound, tea and ritual. We'll explore themes of harvest, release, darkness and the ancestors, allowing ourselves to consciously step into the darker half of the year.

Explore Samhain Yoga, Soundbath & Tea Ceremony →

As we move towards the longest night, I'll also be offering a Winter Solstice Retreat & Restore, a space for deep rest, reflection and connection as we consciously mark this turning point in the Wheel of the Year.

Explore Winter Solstice Retreat & Restore →

And this autumn sees the beginning of my new Dark Moon Series: Body, Breath & Soundbath. The dark moon offers its own monthly threshold: a time to pause, release, listen and begin again. Through embodied movement, breath and sound, this series is an invitation to work with these quieter energies and create space for reflection, intention setting and path illumination.

Explore the Dark Moon Series →

Into the dark

So today, on this Autumn Equinox, perhaps we can pause at the threshold.

We can honour the balance of light and dark while knowing that the balance is about to shift. We can acknowledge what this season has given us and begin to release what we no longer need to carry.

We can make plans for warmth and connection, while also making space for solitude and inner work.

The dark half of the year is not something to get through. It is a season to inhabit: a season of roots, bones, fire, dreams and deep listening.

So as the Wheel turns, perhaps we can step into the darkness consciously.

Tend your fire. Make the warming food. Call your people. Walk amongst the trees. Look up at the stars. Practise yoga. Make space for your inner world.

And when the darkness arrives, rather than immediately trying to push it away, become curious about what it has come to teach you.

The descent has begun.

The Wheel is turning.

And there is wisdom here too.