Led by light at Samhain

Samhain is a threshold of light and dark. The light of day gives way to longer nights. This ancient festival falls at the midpoint between the autumn equinox and the winter solstice, and in this window of time, something profound shifts, not just in the season, but in our bodies, our rhythms, our very way of being. We are led by light at Samhain.

In Ramsgate where I live, sunrise on Samhain hovers around 6.46am and sunset falls at 4.29pm. That’s just 8.5 hours of light, and 15.5 hours of darkness. Each day grows shorter, each night stretches out a little longer. And with this tipping point, we cross into a very different kind of time.

The clocks have gone back, but time doesn’t slow down, not in the world humans built, severing our innate connection with nature. And I think that’s part of the problem.

Why do we dread the dark?

So many people express a visceral resistance to this season. “I hate the dark evenings,” or “I can’t cope with winter,” and “I just want it to be spring already.”

This kind of dread is so common it’s considered normal. But I wonder, is it really about the season? Or is it a symptom of how we’ve been made to live?

There’s something deeper going on when a collective culture fears the dark, fights the seasons, and mourns the shift before it’s even arrived. I believe this response is born of disconnection. The kind that happens when we’re expected to operate at full speed all year long. When capitalism demands perpetual output. When the 9–5 schedule ignores the shortening days and the ancient rhythms of rest.

We were not built to bloom all year.

We used to move with the light

Our ancestors didn’t resist the dark. They revered it. They adjusted their pace, their work, their rituals around the light available to them. The shape of their days shifted with the season. There was trust in the cycles, not fear of them.

When we lived in deeper relationship with the land and skies, we understood that the dark was not a void to be feared, but a place of rich possibility, of germination, rest, mystery and magic. Fires were lit, stories told, ancestors honoured. The hearth became the centre of the season.

And yet now, when the dark arrives, many of us feel untethered.

Because our society refuses to slow down, we fall out of sync with ourselves. The result is a dissonance between the demands of modern life and the call of the Earth. We crash, burn out and lose access to daylight and wonder why we feel flat, depleted or irritable.

What if this isn’t about hating winter? What if it’s about being asked to perform at summer’s pace while the world around us softens into stillness?

The personal liberation of saying no

For me, reclaiming Samhain as the true new year and honouring its invitation to descend changed everything. I’ve stopped performing Christmas.

I don’t mean that in a bah-humbug kind of way, I just realised that the hype, the relentless build-up, the sensory overload and social expectations weren’t just exhausting. They were misaligned with everything my body and spirit were asking for.

I used to crash hard. Every single year. I’d feel drained, disoriented, emotionally tangled. For a long time, I couldn’t explain why, until I began exploring my AuDHD. Once I realised my brain processes and senses were wired differently, it all made sense. I was trying to sustain the energy of high summer in a time that was calling me into stillness, shadow and quiet reflection.

Now, I choose differently.

I create rituals rooted in rest, not rush making space for intention. Choosing presence over pressure. I honour the deep need to retreat, not because I’m avoiding life, but because I’m aligning with it.

As a photographer, I work with the light

The shape of my creative work shifts through the year. And in these darker months, I become more conscious of when and how the light is available, especially at Samhain.

In summer, shoots can stretch across golden hours and late evenings. But in late autumn and winter, natural light becomes a fleeting window. I plan shoots earlier in the day, adjusting to the rhythm of the sun, I don’t fight it, I adapt.

This isn’t just about logistics, it’s a philosophy. A practice of seasonal alignment. Devotion to working with the light rather than resisting the dark. The more I do this in my business, the more I try to do it in my life.

Letting light in, letting light out

This is the time of year, at Samhain where light becomes precious. But that doesn’t mean it disappears, it just asks to be noticed, cherished, woven into our days with greater intention.

The shift in daylight hours impacts our bodies more than we realise. Exposure to natural light helps regulate our circadian rhythms, improve mood, boost focus and sleep, and support mental health. Missing out on daylight, especially during winter, is a known contributor to low energy and seasonal affective patterns.

But even 15 minutes of light a day can make a difference. So ask yourself — what can you let go of, to let light in?

Can you take a sunrise walk before work? Plan lunch outdoors, even in layers and gloves? Move your desk near a window, or take meetings as phone calls while walking?

These may sound small, but they are radical acts of reconnection. They honour the light, even as it fades. And just as importantly — can you let darkness in too?

Welcoming the dark

We talk a lot about honouring the light at Samhain — but there’s deep power in welcoming the dark. Samhain teaches us this. It whispers: not all growth is visible. Not all light is external.

The darkness is not something to fear, but a space to listen. To rest, reflect and imagine. It’s where seeds lie dormant, stories steep, grief and gratitude intermingle and where ancestors meet us in dreams.

When we soften into the season, we stop trying to push through it. We find magic in the candlelight and write by firelight. Listen to the winds, the rustle of fallen leaves, the hush of long nights. Remember that we are not machines. We are nature and those seasons live within us. Click here to dive deeper into connecting with nature at Samhain.

A new rhythm for this season

So as we move through Samhain and into winter, let this be your invitation to slow down. To pay attention to the light at Samhain and the absence of it. Trust in the value of rest, reflection and recalibration. To reclaim your days from the pressure of productivity and rewrite them with rhythm and reverence. Ask yourself:

• What might I say no to, to say yes to the season?
• Where can I choose light, real light, over the blue glow of screens?
• How can I honour my body’s natural need to rest, to move slower, to do less?

You don’t have to get this perfect. This is a practice. A return. A remembering. Let’s be led by light at Samhain, leading you back into alignment, not just with nature, but with your own nature too.

Want more ways to live seasonally and deepen your connection to the year’s turning? Explore my Wheel of the Year print collection, where visual storytelling meets soul-rooted ritual. Let light guide your year.