Understanding the liminal space between seasons
Now is the time between times. It is a quiet stretch of days and weeks between one season and another, between one festival or holiday and another. The Autumn Equinox has passed, the time is approaching for Samhain. But now is a gentle period that to me is the time between times. The slow movement of day and night, light and shadow, that are as important as the larger days and festivals that are used to mark changes in time.
Come along with me on this EarthWise journey to explore this time between times.
Seasonal harvest festivals and the space between them
Samhain is the second and final harvest festival. Lammas or Lughnasaidh was the first. Samhain marks the closing of reaping and gathering. It closes the rich abundance and maturation of autumn, of the celebration of colour, of growth and ripening. Samhain also marks, in some traditions, the thinning of the veil between the worlds, where it is easier to move between them and perhaps also to connect with the ancestors.
There is a quiet rhythm in this cycle of harvest festivals. Lughnasaidh arrives in the full ripeness of August. Fields are heavy with their growth of grain, golden and glistening with a quiet promise of abundance. The summer sun is still warm and at times fierce. Yet there is a quiet whisper in the wind of this first harvest festival that hints at the changes to come, and now underway.
What is this time between times, that goes without a name or date or celebration, yet is fecund and rich in itself? This post offers an EarthWise reflection on this time between times, as the days slowly but noticeably grow shorter and dark longer and longer.
Time between times: stillness between harvest festivals
This quiet time between times goes without much notice or fanfare in observances. And yet, to me, it is a gift, and one that should be given as much notice as the larger and more widely recognized festivals and celebrations.
This quiet time beckons deeper into the year. The days softly shorten, nights almost imperceptibly deepen. The changes become noticeable only over a span of time and after a period of deliberate reflection to seek them out.
And so, too, this time between times beckons me on the start of the inward journey that is part of the dark half of the year. Of letting go following the ripe harvest of late summer and early autumn. Of moving gently and slowly inwards, settling in for the winter season. Earthing, rooting, resting. This time between times is to me like an open path that invites and encourages, still bright with the leaves of autumn. Yet it stretches away into the turning of the seasons, with the subtle change waiting just beyond the bend in the path.
It is a time to pause. And as well a time to rest. Gathering together what must be shed before winter, as well as gathering in what to root and earth with during the winter season.
From harvest to darkness: the seasonal liminal shift
This time between times is an interlude. It is a threshold. This time between times is a liminal space. A liminal space is a place of transition. And that transition blends change slowly and softly. The move from high summer to the start of winter always to me seems to happen in the blink of an eye. In the matter of a few short weeks, the warmth and long days of summer are gone, replaced by the soft light of autumn, crisp winds, and the smell of leaves pungent on the air of the woods.
This space and time then invites a moment to take stock. To notice. To see what is behind and what lies ahead. To contemplate the richness of the present moment, as something whole and worthwhile in itself. It is not necessary to be rushing forwards to the next day, week, turn of the wheel, festival, observance, ritual. Being in the fading light of the afternoon sun, watching as leaves flutter down from the trees, noticing the change in the birdsong in the woods– all of these are part of now. They weave together the rich sense of being alive. This time invites sitting down, slowing down, breathing a soft exhale.
EarthWise practices for the quiet seasonal shift
There are many choices of what to do in this liminal space, this threshold, in this quiet time between times. It might be that you decide to create a specific forest-bathing ritual to take advantage of noticing the changes in the woods, in the light in the sky, on what is overhead and underfoot.
It might be that you take a few moments at the start and end of the day to notice when the first light appears and when the last light fades.
Or you could decide to simply walk, looking at the reminders and remainders of the first harvest festival, and think ahead to celebrating the final gathering in of the last harvest season, in a metaphorical or literal sense. Or both.
Simply by pausing to take notice of this time between times, you become part of the pause on the threshold which at the same time moves you gently into the next part of the year.