Autumn Equinox & Mabon: The Magic of Letting Go

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There is something about autumn that feels a little bit magical to me. Perhaps it is the changing colours, the cooler air, the darker evenings or the feeling that nature itself is beginning to slow down and turn inward. Whatever it is, I always feel something shift as we move towards the Autumn Equinox. It feels like the earth is taking a breath, and perhaps we are being invited to do the same.

The Autumn Equinox is the point in the year when day and night are roughly equal, creating this beautiful moment of balance between light and darkness. In the Northern Hemisphere, the equinox marks our movement into autumn, and from this point onwards the nights gradually become longer than the days. In 2026, the Autumn Equinox falls on 23 September in the UK.

For many modern Pagans, the Autumn Equinox is celebrated as Mabon. Mabon is considered the second of the three harvest festivals within the modern Wheel of the Year, sitting between Lughnasadh and Samhain. It is associated with harvest, gratitude, balance, reflection and, perhaps most importantly, letting go. It is worth knowing that the name Mabon itself is a relatively modern Pagan name, adopted in the twentieth century and inspired by the Welsh mythological figure Mabon ap Modron. The seasonal harvest traditions behind the celebration are much older and have existed in many different cultures, but Mabon as the name for the equinox is part of a more modern spiritual tradition.

And I think that distinction is actually rather beautiful because it reminds us that traditions can evolve. We can honour what came before us while still creating our own relationship with the seasons.

For me, the Autumn Equinox is a beautiful reminder that life is always moving. Nothing stays the same forever, and perhaps one of the hardest things we can learn is how to let something change without desperately trying to hold onto it. We often talk about letting go as though it should be this big, dramatic moment where we suddenly release everything that no longer serves us and walk away feeling completely free. But I don't think it always works like that. Sometimes letting go is much quieter. Sometimes it is simply noticing that you have been carrying something for a very long time and deciding that perhaps you don't need to carry it in quite the same way anymore.

Look at the trees. They don't cling to every leaf because they are afraid of what winter might bring. They let the leaves fall when the time comes. There is no panic about whether they are doing it correctly. There is simply a trust in the season.

Perhaps that is one of the lessons autumn has for us.

What are you ready to release? What have you been carrying that has become heavier than you realised? What expectations, old stories, habits, relationships, ways of thinking or versions of yourself are you ready to gently put down?

And equally, what have you grown?

Because the harvest isn't only about what we release. It is also about recognising what we have created, learnt, experienced and survived. Before we rush towards the next thing, there is something incredibly powerful about pausing to look at our own harvest and saying, look what I've grown.

Maybe it hasn't been the year you expected. Maybe some things have been difficult. Maybe there have been beautiful things alongside the difficult ones. Life rarely fits neatly into one category. But there is always something worth noticing.

So this Mabon, perhaps you don't need to do anything elaborate. You could light a candle, take a walk, gather some fallen leaves, make something with autumn apples, sit quietly with a journal or simply step outside and notice that the season has changed. You could write down what you are grateful for and then write down what you are ready to release.

And then, importantly, don't rush to fill the space you've created.

There is a temptation when we clear something out to immediately replace it with something else. But autumn reminds us that empty space has a purpose too. We don't need to know immediately what comes next. We can simply allow ourselves to have a little more room to breathe.

The trees know that winter will come. They don't try to make it summer again.

Perhaps we can learn to trust the seasons of our own lives in the same way.

So as we cross this beautiful threshold between summer and autumn, let yourself slow down. Give thanks for what has been. Honour what you have grown. Gently release what you are ready to leave behind, and allow yourself to sit in the space that remains.

You don't have to have it all figured out.

You are simply moving with the season.

And sometimes, that is enough.

All my love

Hannah X