By Eve Bell

The Spring Equinox arrives around the 20th or 21st March each year. A moment of perfect balance. When day and night are equal in length.

A turning point.

A shift from winter into longer days and lighter nights. The cold loosens its grip. Green shoots start to appear. The world feels different, even if we don’t always notice it.

For centuries, people have marked this shift. Humans have always paused to honour this seasonal shift. Usually with fires, feasts and rituals of renewal. It’s the marking of something new. A reminder that we are part of the earth’s rhythm.

Now, we move too fast to notice. The seasons change, but we are pulled in other directions.

Work.

Screens.

Disconnection.

Marking the equinox is a small act of resistance. A way to step back. To feel the shift. To remember we are part of something bigger.

Ironically, just as nature finds its balance, we disrupt our own with the artificial shift of daylight saving time. This can make our reconnection with natural rhythms even more meaningful. These small acts of seasonal awareness can ground us. They can reduce stress and reconnect us to the natural cycles that still govern our biology.

In Japan, the spring equinox is called Shunbun no Hi. A time when they visit ancestors’ graves and honour family connections across generations. A reminder that we are part of something that extends beyond our individual lives.

At each equinox, I have some simple rituals. At dawn, I go outside, just for a moment. Just enough to feel the beginning of equinox light. Later, I’ll light a candle or build a small fire, to welcome back the light.

The most meaningful is the letter I wrote six months ago. On each equinox, I write myself a letter. On the spring equinox, I open the letter the autumn me wrote. Opening it feels like receiving wisdom from a different version of myself. The me who was excited to hunker down for winter and get cosy.

Then, I’ll write another letter, this one to be opened when the light is fading. A conversation with my future self about what I hope I have grown in the months ahead.

Here are some other ways to acknowledge the changing of the seasons and to welcome back the light:

• Plant something. A seed, a bulb, a new idea.
• Step outside and listen. Birds and the hum of life returning.
• Write to your autumn self – what would you like to remember when the light begins to fade?
• Bring the season inside. Flowers or a sprig of blossom.
• Light a candle at sunset. Honour the balance of light and dark.

No need for grand gestures.

Just a pause.

A moment.

A quiet welcome to spring.