There is something about fall that makes me want to slow down. The weather cools off, home feels cozier, and life seems to settle a little after the rush of summer. There is more family time, more time spent making things, and hopefully a chance to win back some of the energy summer sucked out of us.
At least, I think that’s what fall is supposed to be.
I personally seem to celebrate slowing down by adding more shit to my list.
I’m starting new things, learning new things, making things, and coming up with more ideas than I probably need. But something has changed. I’m learning that I can keep creating without treating every idea like it needs to happen immediately.
And that may be what the autumn equinox means to me more than anything this year.
What Is the Autumn Equinox?
The autumn equinox marks the astronomical beginning of fall in the Northern Hemisphere, when the Sun crosses the celestial equator heading south.
We often describe the equinox as a day of equal light and darkness. They’re actually not perfectly equal because of things like atmospheric refraction and how sunrise and sunset are measured, but they’re close. Maybe that’s part of why balance has become so strongly connected with this point in the seasonal cycle.
And balance is something I’ve been thinking about a lot lately.
Not the Pinterest version where every part of your life gets a perfectly divided little piece of your time.
To me, balance means not letting any one thing take over.
It means doing what I need and want to do while also listening to my body and my mental health when they tell me how fast that needs to happen.
That’s the kind of balance I can actually use.
Honoring the Season Without All the Rules
I don’t really formally celebrate the autumn equinox. I’m not planning a specific ritual or worrying about checking off a list of things I’m supposed to do.
But I absolutely still celebrate it in my own way.
I believe in honoring Mother Nature and paying attention to the changing seasons. I like recognizing the shift from one part of the year into another, practicing gratitude, and taking a little time to think about what this season represents in my own life.
Some modern Pagan traditions celebrate the autumn equinox as Mabon, with traditions and rituals that are meaningful to them. I think that’s beautiful. I’ve just learned that my connection to the season doesn’t need to look exactly like anyone else’s.
For me, it might be harvesting herbs from the garden, making something with my hands, lighting a candle, spending time with my family, or finally walking outside in the morning and feeling cool air instead of wondering why the hell it’s still so hot. It doesn’t have to be elaborate to mean something.
Harvest Isn’t Always Something You Put in a Basket
Harvest is an obvious part of this season, and there is definitely some literal harvesting happening around here.
I’ve been cutting herbs as they’re ready and deciding what to dry, freeze, tincture, or bring inside for winter. The spearmint finally decided to take off, the lemongrass loved life in its pots, and I’m hanging herbs to dry for later.
Then there is my calendula, which grew plants but apparently decided flowers were optional this year.
And my poor chocolate mint looks like it has personally had enough of summer.
Not everything worked. But even the things that didn’t taught me something I’ll use when I plant again next year.
That’s a harvest too.
And when I look beyond the garden, I realize I’ve harvested something else this year: confidence.
I’ve tried things I wasn’t sure I could do. I’ve shown up at markets, put my products out into the community, started exploring new business ideas, studied things I want to understand better, and kept trying even when I didn’t know exactly where any of it would lead.
Some things have worked. Some haven’t worked the way I expected. Some are still too new to know.
But I’ve learned that I am in competition with no one.
I don’t have to build something the way somebody else built it. I don’t have to make everyone understand what I’m doing. My people will find me, and the rest aren’t mine to worry about.
That has given me a lot more freedom to try.
Letting Go of Expectations
Maybe that’s part of the other side of harvest.
You gather what grew, but you also clear out what doesn’t need to stay.
For me, one of those things is expectations.
I’m still going to have goals. I’m still going to dream ridiculously big sometimes, put in the work, and give things my all. What I’m trying to let go of is the belief that I need to know exactly how something is going to turn out before I’m willing to begin.
I can’t control whether every idea works. I can control whether I give myself permission to try it.
If something takes off, great. If it doesn’t, I can figure out why, decide whether it’s worth changing, and move forward with something I didn’t know before.
I’d rather look back at the things I tried than wonder what would have happened if fear hadn’t talked me out of starting.
Doing More at a Slower Pace
This is probably the strangest lesson I’ve learned lately.
I’m actually creating more and doing more, but I’m doing it at a slower rate.
That doesn’t mean I’m moving backward or becoming less ambitious. It means I’ve stopped believing that every good idea needs to become a finished project by next Tuesday.
I can work on something today and come back to it later. I can have a productive weekend and then take an evening to do absolutely nothing productive. I can decide something isn’t urgent just because I’m excited about it.
And when I’m tired, I can listen to that instead of immediately trying to figure out how to squeeze one more thing into the day.
I’m still going to create. I’m still going to build things. I’m still going to get excited about some new idea and probably add it to a list that is already too long.
I’m just learning that forward doesn’t have to mean fast.
That feels like a much more realistic kind of slowing down for me.
If You Want to Mark the Autumn Equinox
You don’t need a complicated ritual unless that’s something you genuinely enjoy.
Light a candle. Harvest something you’ve grown. Make dinner and sit down with your family. Spend a few minutes outside and actually notice what’s changing. Write down something you’re ready to let go of. Think about something you’ve accomplished since spring that you haven’t given yourself enough credit for.
Or find three completely ordinary things you’re grateful for.
For me, that might be the smell of herbs hanging to dry, finally needing a sweatshirt in the morning, having food on the table, laughing with my family, or seeing something I made sitting on a shelf somewhere besides my own house.
Your things will be different.
That’s kind of the point.
Taking Gratitude into the Next Season
Maybe you celebrate the autumn equinox. Maybe you call it Mabon and have traditions you’ve followed for years. Maybe you simply notice that the mornings are cooler and the sun is disappearing a little earlier.
However you mark it, I think the changing season gives us a natural place to stop and look around.
What grew in your life this year?
What didn’t?
What did you learn from both?
Is there something you’re holding onto simply because you expected it to turn out differently?
And where could you slow down without giving up on where you’re going?
I’m heading into fall with plants that thrived, plants that look like hell, herbs hanging to dry, several new ideas I’m excited about, and absolutely no guarantee that all of them are going to work.
I’m grateful for all of it.
The successes gave me something to celebrate. The failures gave me something to learn. And somewhere between the two, I’ve gotten a little better at trusting myself.
I don’t need to know exactly what the next season will bring.
I just need to notice what’s here, be grateful for it, and keep going at a pace that still lets me enjoy the life I’m building.
