There’s something sacred about the way the air changes this time of year.
The light softens, the mornings feel like whispers, and the trees seem to exhale letting their gold and crimson drift to the earth in quiet surrender.
The Fall Equinox, also known as Mabon, is that fleeting moment of balance between day and night. It’s when nature stands perfectly still — not yet surrendered to the dark, but no longer basking in the fullness of light. For a breath, everything feels equal.
And in that pause, we’re invited to do the same.
This is the season that teaches us the beauty of letting go, of slowing down, of returning inward. The harvest has been gathered, the seeds have done their work, and the soil prepares to rest. So should we.
The Magic of the Turning
The wheel turns once more. In the earlier months of the year, we plant and push, we chase and bloom. The Summer Solstice brings its blaze of energy — projects peak, gardens burst, hearts expand. But now? Now we step into the gentle descent.
Autumn whispers, “It’s time.”
Time to reflect. Time to breathe. Time to trust the cycles that live both within and around us.
Nature does not fear the darkening days. She welcomes them. She drops what’s heavy and unnecessary leaves, seeds, expectations and allows herself to rest. Yet we humans resist that rhythm. We cling to constant motion, productivity, brightness. We fight the fall.
But when we learn to follow nature’s lead, we return to something deeper. We remember that balance is found not through doing more, but through surrender. Through trust. Through allowing the stillness to hold us.
The Fall Equinox is not just a seasonal event it’s a spiritual threshold. A mirror reflecting back all that you’ve cultivated and all that’s asking to be released.
Honoring the Harvest — Within and Without
We often think of “harvest” as something tangible: crops, careers, projects, progress. But the inner harvest the quiet, unseen one is where the true gold lies.
Take a moment to ask yourself:
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What has this year grown in me?
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What am I proud of?
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What did I plant that bloomed beautifully and what didn’t take root at all?
Sometimes, the harvest isn’t a physical result but an inner transformation. Maybe it’s courage. Maybe it’s clarity. Maybe it’s the realization that something you were chasing wasn’t actually meant for you.
Honouring the harvest is about recognition. Gratitude. Awareness of how far you’ve come, even if the growth was subtle or painful.
You might celebrate by preparing a meal of seasonal foods roasted squash, apples, root vegetables, hearty stews or by simply lighting a candle and whispering thanks for all that’s brought you here.
It doesn’t have to be elaborate. Magic rarely is.
The Art of Slowing Down
One of the most powerful rituals you can do this season is to stop rushing.
We live in a culture that glorifies momentum. There’s this constant hum of “what’s next?” in everything we do. But Autumn doesn’t ask for forward motion it asks for surrender. For rest.
This is the season of long walks under amber trees, mugs of tea that stay warm as conversations linger, deep breaths that reach the belly. It’s a time to say no to what drains you and yes to what nourishes you — to allow your nervous system to exhale.
When nature slows, it's time to rest, She’s wise.
The trees drop their leaves not out of weakness, but out of wisdom to conserve energy, to focus on their roots, to survive the cold with grace.
That’s your invitation too.
Let yourself shed what no longer sustains you. The projects that aren’t aligned, the relationships that feel one-sided, the pressure to be constantly available. You don’t have to bloom all year long.
Slowing down is a sacred act. It’s an energetic recalibration.
And if guilt whispers that you “should” be doing more, remind yourself: even the Earth rests.
Bonfires, Darkness, and Light
There’s a reason fire feels especially magical this time of year.
Bonfires, candles, hearths — they all hold that primal energy of warmth meeting the dark. They remind us that even in the fading light, there’s comfort to be found in the glow.
Gathering around a fire (whether it’s a backyard bonfire, a small fire pit, or even a candlelit circle on your kitchen table) connects us to something ancient. Our ancestors did this — marked this turning, shared stories, and gave thanks beneath the same darkening skies.
You don’t need a formal ceremony. Light a fire, alone or with those you love, and let the crackle be your companion. Talk about your year. Laugh. Cry. Sit in silence and listen to the wood pop and the wind hum through the trees.
There’s power in simply being together no agenda, no rush just the shared heartbeat of warmth and presence.
If you’re feeling called to bring a little witchy intention to it, toss in herbs like cinnamon for abundance, rosemary for remembrance, or sage for cleansing. Watch the smoke rise and imagine it carrying your gratitude to the stars.
You don’t need to know exactly how to “do” ritual.
You just have to show up open-hearted and willing to listen.
Witchy Ways to Celebrate
The Fall Equinox has always been a witch’s season rich with symbols of balance, transformation, and death that isn’t truly an ending, but a passage.
If you feel drawn to lean into that magic, this is the perfect time.
Not for performative witchcraft, but for authentic connection with the land, the cycles, and your inner self.
Here are some ways to weave a little witchery into your days:
1. Connect to the Elements
Autumn is earthy, fiery, and deeply sensory.
Spend time with the elements walk barefoot on cool soil, breathe in crisp air, light candles, sip warm tea, take a salt bath. Let each element remind you of your own balance.
2. Create a Fall Altar
Your altar can be as simple or elaborate as you wish.
Maybe a few fallen leaves, an apple, a crystal, and a candle. Or maybe it’s a whole shelf of seasonal abundance.
The point isn’t perfection it’s connection.
3. Practice Divination
The veil begins to thin after the Equinox.
Pull cards, gaze into candlelight, write intuitive messages, or simply sit in silence and ask, “What is trying to speak to me right now?”
You’ll be surprised by what answers in the quiet.
4. Work with Shadow
As the nights grow longer, this is the time to gently turn inward.
Shadow work doesn’t have to be heavy it’s simply noticing the parts of you you’ve avoided and offering them light. Write. Meditate. Cry. Laugh. Move. Whatever your body needs to release.
5. Celebrate with Friends or Family
Magic loves company.
Invite loved ones over for a cozy night warm drinks, a shared meal, stories by firelight, pulling oracle cards, or making seasonal crafts together. The Equinox reminds us that balance also means community the give and take of shared energy.
You can even involve little ones collecting leaves, making gratitude jars, or lighting a candle and sharing one thing everyone is thankful for.
Witchcraft, after all, is simply intentional living and children understand magic better than anyone.
The Energy of Balance
The Equinox is a teacher of balance the midpoint between light and dark. It asks:
Where are you giving too much? Where are you holding back?
It’s easy to think balance means perfect equality, but really, it’s a living dance.
Some days you rest more. Some days you move more. Some seasons you bloom. Others, you retreat. The goal is not to stay perfectly centered but to honour the sway the natural ebb and flow.
As you move through this season, allow yourself to hold both:
Gratitude for the light and reverence for the dark.
Joy for what’s arrived and peace with what’s leaving.
Excitement for what’s next and stillness for what’s here.
You don’t have to rush toward winter.
Let yourself linger in the in-between.
The Dormant Season: Learning from Nature
Nature doesn’t fear dormancy. She trusts it.
The soil beneath us looks barren, but it’s quietly alive gathering nutrients, protecting seeds, preparing for the next cycle of growth. Dormancy isn’t death. It’s sacred incubation.
As we step toward the darker half of the year, take that cue.
Slow down. Journal. Rest more. Read books that feed your soul. Cook meals that warm your bones. Spend evenings with candlelight instead of screens. Allow your energy to settle not out of laziness, but wisdom.
This is how we recharge.
This is how we align with our natural rhythm.
The modern world may not grant us the luxury of true hibernation, but we can still claim little pockets of dormancy daily rituals of rest and reflection. Ten minutes with tea and silence. An evening walk under a fading sun. A weekend without plans.
Let your nervous system exhale.
You’re not falling behind you’re falling inward.
Gratitude as Ritual
If there’s one theme that echoes through this season, it’s gratitude.
Not just for what’s gone right, but for what’s taught you something.
Gratitude is its own kind of magic.
It opens portals, shifts energy, and makes even the most ordinary moments sacred.
You don’t need to make a list or force it. Just pause more often and whisper, thank you.
Thank you for the sunrise. Thank you for the meal. Thank you for the breath. Thank you for the people who held me, and the lessons that changed me.
In a world that moves too fast, gratitude slows time.
It roots you in presence the same way the trees root deeper as their leaves let go.
If You Feel the Pull
If the Equinox has your soul stirring that quiet nudge that says there’s more here for me follow it.
You don’t need to know exactly how to create ritual or what it should look like. The best rituals are the ones born from intuition, not instruction.
If you’re unsure where to start or want something more personal, that’s where I come in.
I love helping others create simple, soulful rituals for the seasons, the moon cycles, or their own moments of transformation. You can always reach out, and we’ll craft something that fits your energy and your life.
Ritual doesn’t have to be grand to be meaningful.
Sometimes, it’s as simple as sitting quietly by candlelight, letting yourself feel everything you’ve been too busy to feel.
Closing Reflections
The Fall Equinox isn’t just a date on the calendar it’s a doorway. A turning point. A reminder that everything in nature including you is cyclical, not linear.
You’re allowed to pause.
You’re allowed to shed.
You’re allowed to rest.
And when the time comes, you’ll bloom again stronger, softer, more rooted than before.
So, light the candle. Stir the soup. Gather your people. Sit beneath the trees as they turn to flame. Whisper your thanks to the wind, and trust that what’s leaving is making space for what’s next.
The Earth is exhaling.
Maybe it’s time you do too.
With and Gratitude;
Kris
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