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The first frost on a parked car. The hum of the city under a full moon. The faint green of moss reclaiming a wall. Even in the city, the cycles never stop. For many pagans and witches, life is not a straight line. It moves in circles — in rhythms, in repetitions, in cycles that echo the natural world. Observing these cycles isn’t about following rules or rigid practice; it’s about listening, noticing, and learning to move in harmony with life itself. In this article, I will n

When the fog rolls over the streets and the days grow quieter, a different kind of time begins — not one of loud celebrations, but of honest reflection.November is a threshold month.Between the golden glow of autumn and the deep stillness of winter, it invites us to turn inward.It ’s the time when nature dies in order to renew itself.And perhaps, we too are allowed to release what no longer belongs to us. Shadow work isn’t a dark or gloomy concept. It’s an act of self-care —

A Nature-Based Spiritual Perspective on Shadow Work Candles flicker in the window, somewhere the scent of pumpkin and damp earth drifts through the air. The world grows quieter – yet at the same time, some people feel uneasy. This season of darkness and introspection often reminds us of what we would rather not feel: our mortality, fear, ourselves, and the parts of our being we usually avoid. And that is exactly what the dark half of the year is for. Samhain – Halloween, All

There’s something sacred about this time of year ( okay, granted, I do say that about every season, but autumn to be as a person with SPS (Sensory Processing Sensitivity) autumn really is special to me) . As autumn deepens and the veil between worlds thins, nature invites us to slow down, to turn inward, to reflect. Samhain — the ancient festival marking the transition into the dark half of the year — reminds us of cycles, endings, and the quiet wisdom that comes with lettin

Some stories begin with an ending.I was about three years old when I first sensed that something could disappear without truly being gone. My great-uncle had died suddenly — my grandfather’s brother. I remember my grandfather bringing us the news. But I also remember the smell of autumn leaves, the heaviness in the adults’ voices, and the strange feeling that the world had both stopped and kept going at the same time.Maybe that was my first glimpse of the threshold — that fin

The Beauty in the Dark Half of the Year Most people write about the wheel of the year as a carousel of celebrations — the bursting...

I grew up close to nature, in a small town nestled by the edge of a forest — I’ve harvested wild herbs, picked berries, and known the...

What does it mean to live in rhythm with the Earth — when you barely have time to water your plants? I first stumbled across the concept...

Summer has fully arrived in Switzerland, and this year’s Litha (the summer solstice) is forecast to be not only radiant but also hot,...