The Hidden Gifts of dark days
Finding Nourishment in Autumn and Winter
As our clocks change - something that feels like a kind of modern ritual, plunging us into the darker months - we can adjust our own daily routines and rhythm to honour this descent. I use the word descend on purpose. The direction of energy in autumn and winter is downward, like the trees drawing nourishment from their roots. And like the trees, there is much that can nourish us in these darker days.
It can feel hard when the long days of summer are behind us, but we also have a perfect opportunity to celebrate the hidden gifts of the dark. Traditionally, communities have retreated during autumn and winter: gathering around fires, sharing food, stories, and warmth. We still reflect this impulse in our autumn and winter gatherings. Here on the South Coast, where I live, we’re lucky: we still get almost two more hours of daylight than Lerwick in the Shetland Islands, where librarians have begun to winter wellness kits with tips on embracing the darker days and SAD lights. I love that idea: rather than resisting the dark, learning to welcome it, we too can find meaning in our own daily rituals and in the darkness.
(Source: BBC News – “How to cope with long winter nights”)
Festivals of Light and Shadow: Celebrating Autumn Around the World
I have always been aware of autumn’s celebrations. Growing up in a family that marked Diwali, the Indian Festival of Lights — celebrated across Hindu, Sikh, and Jain communities — as well as Navratri, a joyful festival rooted in autumn and the bounty of the harvest, I have long associated this season with festivity and renewal. For me, autumn has always heralded a turning inward and a lighting up, a time when candles and lamps symbolise our own inner flame amid encroaching darkness.
But autumnal celebrations are found all around the world. In China, the Mid-Autumn Moon Festival (Zhongqiujie) honours the harvest, family reunion, and the moon’s beauty - a symbol of wholeness and the cyclical rhythm of life. People gather to admire the full moon, share mooncakes, and give thanks for abundance. In Japan, Tsukimi, or “moon viewing,” is a quiet and poetic observance, offerings of rice dumplings, pampas grass, and seasonal produce are made to the full moon to express gratitude and awe for nature’s rhythms.
In Celtic traditions, Mabon celebrates the autumn equinox, a time of balance between light and dark, while Samhain which evolved into Hallowe’en marks the end of the harvest and honours ancestors and those who have passed. Across many Native American traditions, autumn is a sacred time of harvest and gratitude, seen in celebrations like the Harvest Moon Festival or Green Corn Ceremonies, which express reverence for the earth’s generosity and the importance of community.
Many of these festivals share a common theme: they celebrate the dance between light and dark, life and death, fullness and letting go. They remind us that autumn is both an ending and a beginning, a time to harvest what has been grown, to grieve what has passed, and to prepare inwardly for winter’s quiet.
Honouring Ancestors and the Lineage of Light
Just before Diwali, in Hindu tradition, there is a period known as Pitru Paksha, when families honour their ancestors through offerings of food, prayers, and light. It’s a time to express gratitude to those who came before and to acknowledge the lineage that continues to sustain us.
In this way, it echoes other traditions of remembrance at this time of year such as Samhain or All Souls’ Day moments when the veil between worlds is said to thin, and we’re invited to reflect on continuity, belonging, and the cycles of life.
Descent and Renewal: The Wisdom of Persephone
Across many cultures, stories remind us that the descent of autumn is not an ending but a passage. In Greek mythology, Persephone’s journey into the underworld brings winter to the earth. Yet her eventual return each spring restores life and light. Her story reminds us that within every descent lies the promise of renewal.
Qigong and the Spirit of Metal: The Breath of Release
In Qigong, this same rhythm is expressed through the Metal element, which corresponds to autumn. Metal invites us to refine and distill; to keep what is essential and let go of what no longer serves.
The spirit of Metal is the Po, sometimes described as the corporeal soul. The Po connects us to our animal body, our instincts, and our deep capacity to feel and release. It is the wisdom that lives in the breath, the rhythm of taking in and letting go.
When the Po is in balance, we feel grounded and open to the moment, able to move through grief or change with tenderness and strength. When it is out of balance, we may feel heavy with sadness, disconnected from the body, or resistant to release.
Through Qigong, we honour the Po by breathing deeply, moving slowly, and allowing stillness between movements. Each exhale becomes a soft release, a letting go that mirrors autumn’s falling leaves. Each inhale is an invitation to draw in fresh Qi, a quiet renewal that nourishes us through the darker months.
Active Rest and the Power of Slow Movement
For me, this is a perfect time to deepen our movement practice. During colder months, Qigong helps to keep energy flowing even as nature encourages us to rest. It teaches us that rest does not have to mean collapse and that there is such a thing as active rest.
The Chinese term fang song (放松) captures this beautifully. It means to release tension without losing alertness, to soften, but stay alive inside. Through fang song, we learn that rest and vitality are not opposites but companions. We can move gently, breathe fully, and let energy settle deeper into the body.
Moving in community, we also experience co-regulation, the quiet magic of finding calm and balance together. When we move and breathe in rhythm with others, our bodies begin to respond to one another; heart rates slow, breathing steadies, and a sense of safety and belonging emerges.
A Ritual of Gratitude and Gentle Light
You might create your own small ritual of gratitude or ancestor honouring, lighting a candle, offering a few words of thanks, or simply pausing before your practice to acknowledge those who have shaped your path. These gestures remind us that we are part of a great lineage of life and care.
If you’d like to explore these themes in community, my autumn and winter Qigong classes offer a space to move gently, breathe deeply, and honour the rhythms of rest and renewal together.
May your practice, and your presence, be a steady light in the darker days ahead.