The Turning Season: Reflections for Mabon
On harvest, balance, and the quiet invitation of the Autumn Equinox
I’m a day early today because I wanted to write about the Autumn Equinox. So here I am, writing about Mabon!
There’s a particular kind of hush that arrives with late September.
The sun sits lower in the sky.
The air shifts, just slightly.
Cool enough to notice, warm enough to linger.
Even here in the desert, where the seasons are stubborn,
I can feel it: the sacred pause before descent.
Mabon is the Autumn Equinox, the moment when day and night stand in perfect balance before the darker half of the year takes hold. It’s the second of the three harvest festivals on the Wheel of the Year—between Lughnasadh’s first fruits and Samhain’s final release.
It’s the moment that marks the end of summer’s fullness and the beginning of the slow inward spiral. The season of remembering. The time of letting go.
This season has been my favorite since I was a child. Long before I understood symbolism or nature’s cycles.
There’s something holy about the way the world exhales in autumn.
The way trees give up their leaves without resistance.
The way everything softens and glows, even as it fades.
It feels honest. Authentic.
Like the Earth itself is whispering, “You don’t have to bloom forever.”
And honestly, thank the light.
Because I’ve been tired lately. Soul-tired.
The kind of tired that makes you crave stillness and soup and rituals that don’t ask for anything in return.
A Brief History of Mabon
The name Mabon is a relatively modern addition, popularized by Aidan Kelly in the 1970s to name the equinox in neopagan and Wiccan traditions. It draws from the Welsh myth of Mabon ap Modron, a child of light born from the Great Mother who is taken away and later recovered, symbolizing both loss and return, descent and emergence.
While the exact name may be recent, the practice of honoring the autumn equinox goes back far longer. Ancient cultures across the world marked this day:
In ancient Britain and Ireland, megalithic sites like Cairn T are aligned with equinox light.
The Greeks honored Demeter and Persephone—a tale of harvest, loss, and descent.
In Japan, the Buddhist holiday Higan is observed at the equinox, a time to reflect, visit graves, and find balance between worlds.
Mabon, then, is less about a single myth and more about a collective instinct:
to notice the shift,
to gather what we’ve grown,
to prepare for what we cannot yet see.
For me, it’s not just seasonal, it’s spiritual.
It’s a kind of holy remembering.
Every year, I try to greet this equinox with reverence.
Noticing where I am and where I’ve been.
Noticing what still feels aligned, and what no longer does.
Sometimes that’s a journaling ritual by candlelight.
Sometimes it’s sweeping out the corners of my house.
Sometimes it is simmering apples, oranges, and cinnamon sticks on the stove while I spend the day reading a book.
These aren’t elaborate acts. They’re simple invitations to come back to the truth of the season:
That I am allowed to slow down.
That I do not need to harvest everything.
That enough is enough.
This year, I made something to share with you.
🍂 Download the Free Mabon Guide 2025 🍂
It includes:
A warming apple pie recipe with magical correspondences
A cleansing incense blend for energetic clearing
A tarot spread for clarity during transition
Journal prompts to explore gratitude, balance, and letting go
Simple rituals you can do alone or with loved ones
Whether you’re someone who’s always celebrated the equinox or someone who’s never heard of Mabon until now, this free guide is a soft place to begin. You don’t have to know the perfect way to mark the season. You just have to be willing to notice it.
Let the light shift.
Let the old stories fall.
Let your body remember its own rhythm.
The Earth never rushes this part.
She doesn’t force perpetual bloom.
She trusts in the letting go.
And she invites us to do the same.
So this Mabon, I hope you pause.
Not to prove anything or to fix what’s broken.
But to listen for the wisdom in your bones.
To whisper thank you to what’s gotten you this far.
And to say yes to the season of descent, not as an ending, but as a sacred return.
To rest.
To ritual.
To remembering who you were before the noise.
Love today,
Heather 🌸