Lughnasadh and the Harvest of Belonging
Every generation inherits a field it did not sow. Every generation makes what choices it can about what to harvest, what to replant, and what to return to the earth. Yet not every generation, nor every part of every generation, inherits the same freedom to choose. Traditionally, this is a time of harvest: the beginning of August offers a threshold between growing and gathering, a moment to pause, regroup and celebrate before the work of the harvest begins in earnest. In her journal post, Lughnasadh and the Harvest of Belonging, Mary O’Rawe considers the symbolism of harvest and how yoga practice can widen the circle of belonging and help us reflect on the sowing and reaping we do in our own lives.
World Environment Day 2026: A Yogic Call to Wonder
Yoga reflects the importance of balance as harmony within, among and between inner and outer worlds. When greed, dissociation, overconsumption, and disregard for natural limits dominate human behaviour, these are symptoms of us being lost on the inside and systemic ecological imbalance follows. The ‘climate crisis’ is a sanitised and dissociative way of naming our loss. It calls insufficiently clearly for external action (but what, after all, is truly external). It misses the need for inner transformation, for recognising sustainable living begins with a recognition that there’s only one of us here.
Living gently with the Earth
22nd April 2026 marked Earth Day. The theme this year was Our Power, Our Planet. This in itself invites many layers of reflection and provides the opportunity to seed an extra layer of awareness into our yoga practice - every day! Earth Day invites the kind of attention that is less about marking a date and more about remembering a relationship. In yoga, we might recognise this as a return to bhūmi, the ground of being, not only beneath our feet but within our awareness.
Winter Solstice and the Alchemy of Self-Care
Transforming darkness into nourishment, rest, and renewal
The winter solstice arrives each year like a soft threshold — the longest night, the turning of the sun, the quiet pivot point of the natural world. In the Celtic wheel we are already well into the new year that began in darkness with Samhain. We are gestating with the earth, preparing for the return of the light. While much of the cultural noise around December urges speed, productivity, and brightness, the solstice invites us into something far older and wiser: the practice of resting deeply, listening inward, and discovering what alchemy becomes possible in the dark.