In the darkness of winter, we can find the most essential spark for a life well lived. When we start something new, we often are reminded of what has been. We grieve to honor and let go, we make space to call in more love and aliveness.

Samhain is behind us now and we’re in the depth of fall. It’s taken me a while to finish this blog post and for weeks I was determined to write about Samhain as the Celtic New Year celebration, familial ancestors, and trees as living ancestors.

With the fall equinox on September 22nd, the “fall” of summer into the dark half of the year has begun. On this day, there is a perfect balance between the dark of night and the light of the day. From here until the winter solstice, we continue to lose the light of the sun and welcome the dark of night. With this darkness, we move closer to winter. To me, the dark half of the year means candlelight, storytelling, dreaming, reflecting, and resting in preparation for the light half of the year. It’s like spelunking into the caves of our psyches. We have the opportunity to retrieve our deep gifts and reclaim our deep pain.

September is, no doubt, a month for transitions. As I look out onto Moosehead Lake from my family camps, it looks so still and peaceful. Technically, we are still in summer season in Maine and we have the near 90 degree days to prove it. And yet, inside I feel a rumbling. We are quickly approaching the peak harvest season at the fall equinox on September 21st. Until then, we are in this liminal space, an in-between time. Summer continues to call us to enjoy and feel grateful for what we and the earth have created. Right now, my garden is full of tomatoes, peaches, and peppers. Pretty soon, we’ll be overflowing with apples and pumpkins. The fall of summer asks us to anticipate what’s left to do and to harvest all we can. For many, this point signifies the beginning of the ‘dark half of the year,’ where we begin preparing for and surviving the winter season.

We find ourselves at the beginning of harvest season, when the first fruits of our efforts are ready to be enjoyed. I am overwhelmed with squash in my garden and it reminds me of why August in the northern hemisphere is universally celebrated for its abundance. Lughnasadh or Lammas is celebrated on August 1st as the halfway point between summer solstice and fall equinox.

On June 20th, the summer solstice brought us the longest day of the year and a celebration of light. The light brings tremendous growth in the world around us. As I look out into my backyard I see full and lush green plant life. For those of us who set intentions for the year on the winter solstice, the summer solstice brings to light what we have grown. Summer offers us an opportunity to enjoy what we have manifested. This isn’t always the easiest task. While the light might be shining on growth in one area of your life, you may still be fixated on other parts of life that are still challenging. The mind has a way of fixating on what hasn’t been changed or accomplished. But by staying focused on the past or the future, we aren’t noticing the gifts of the present moment. Many of us get addicted to striving. Perhaps the hard thing is to take a break from the struggle.

As the earth is filling with lush green life here in New England, it reminds me of how much possibility surrounds us now. May 1st brought us Beltane or May Day, the half way point between the spring equinox and summer solstice. In pre-christan celtic culture, Beltaine or “bright fire,” was a celebration of fertility and protection of crops and animals. It’s a fertile moment. The beginning of the summer season starts on June 20th and all of the days leading up to it are brimming with possibility. How do we make ourselves ready?

May is one of my favorite months. So many trees and flowers are starting to bloom. With every new beginning there is so much potential. The energy of spring feels like a quickening to me. And when I’m not careful, my mind will grab right onto that energy and run.

The energy of late winter feels almost like a caterpillar in her chrysalis. Some important changes have happened deep within the cocoon of winter. Spring harkens a transformation. The rebirth means we’re in a sort of labor. Our bodies, our homes are so tight, too small. Our bigness and vastness wants to expand.

If we lose track of the cyclical nature of seasons, it can be easy to fall into all-or-nothing thinking and believe that our winters will never end. Imbolc is a cross-quarter celtic holiday celebrating the half-way mark between Winter Solstice and Spring Equinox in the northern hemisphere. Imbolc is an Irish word translated to “in the belly” or “ewe’s milk” because it is the time of year when sheep first give birth, offering farmers the first milk of the year.

What gifts can this winter season possibly hold? Let’s dive into it. The translation for the latin word Solstice is ‘sun stands still.’ It speaks to two points in the year when the earth’s tilt is closest to the sun or furthest away. And for these two times of year, it appears that the sun stands still. Winter Solstice delineates the longest and darkest night of the year. But, it also beckons the return of the sun and longer and brighter days.