There Is No Doing the Spring Equinox Right. There Is Only Doing It.
One offering, one walk, five minutes. The season is already turning without you.
This morning, I went outside and threw sunflower seeds on the ground.
Then I waited. Within a few minutes, the chickadees came. I said my morning intentions, went back inside, and took off my jacket and shoes. The whole thing took five minutes, including the jacket and shoes.
This is what marking the Spring Equinox looks like in my life on an ordinary morning. Today, being the equinox itself, I will do more. But I want to start here because I suspect some of you are already worried about doing this correctly, and I want to settle that before we go any further.
There is no doing it correctly. There is only doing it.
The Real Reason Most People Do Not Mark the Season
Busyness is not the obstacle. Screens are not the obstacle. Not having enough time is not the obstacle.
The obstacle, as several students in my ecospirituality program named just this week, is the fear of doing it wrong.
This fear is understandable, and it is also the only way to actually miss the Equinox. Because if you wait until you know the right ritual, the right words, the right length of time, the right tradition to draw from, you will wait through the threshold entirely. The season will turn without you. It does not wait for readiness.
Ancient wisdom across many traditions understood the Equinox as a pivot point, the moment when light and dark stand equal before the year tips toward growth. People have been marking this threshold for thousands of years, in ways ranging from the elaborate to the almost invisible. What they shared was not a correct method. It was the decision to stop and pay attention.
That decision is available to you today.
What You Can Actually Do Before Tonight
Here are several options. None requires special knowledge, expense, or more than a few minutes. Choose one. Do it today, or even tomorrow if it must be.
Feed something wild. Go outside with whatever you have, sunflower seeds, bread, or vegetable scraps, and leave it somewhere for the birds or other creatures near you. You are not performing a ritual. You are making an offering to the living world. Stand still for a moment afterward. Notice who comes.
Walk without a destination. Not for exercise. Not toward anything. Give yourself 20 to 30 minutes to wander slowly in the nearest green or open space. Walk as if you are visiting rather than passing through. Notice what is beginning to emerge, buds, birdsong, the particular quality of light that only arrives in the first days of spring.
Light a candle and look outside. If the weather or your circumstances keep you indoors, this counts. Light a candle, sit near a window, and look at one living thing you can see from where you are, like a tree, a patch of sky, a bird on a wire. Stay with it for five minutes. That is enough.
Make an intention. The Equinox is a threshold of change, in the Earth and in you. Write one sentence about what you are willing to let emerge in the season ahead. Not a goal. Not a plan. A willingness. Leave it somewhere you will see it.
Any one of these is doing it right.
What Five Minutes Outside Actually Does
I want to be direct about something.
The overwhelm, the screens, the news, the low-level desperation that settles in when the world asks for your constant attention, none of that will end. There is no conclusion to it. Waiting until it quiets before you go outside means never going outside.
What five minutes in the living world does is interrupt the cycle.
Not permanently. Not magically. But genuinely. Something in the nervous system responds to air and birdsong and the sensation of ground under feet in a way that no amount of scrolling can replicate. The chickadees do not know about your inbox. The trees beginning to bud do not know about the news. For five minutes, neither do you.
That interruption is the practice. It does not need to be longer or more elaborate than you can manage today to be real.
What the Season Is Asking
Today, the light and the dark are equal.
Tomorrow the light begins to win. The year tips toward growth, toward emergence, toward whatever was forming underground through the long months of winter. You have been part of that, whether you noticed it or not. Something in you has also been turning toward this moment.
Step outside today. Make one offering. Notice one living thing that is still here, still growing, still turning with the Earth.
That is enough.
That is everything.
Do You Want to Walk Together?
If that moment outside opens something you want to keep exploring, go back tomorrow and explore the same spot, or even a short distance away. You may be surprised at what you notice.
If you want something a little more structured, the September 2026 Contemplative Walking Retreat on the Le Puy Camino in France offers an even more immersive experience. Seven days of walking the GR65 in a small group, with the practice not scheduled alongside the route but woven into every step of it. This is a solo practice within a small group to help free yourself from the challenges of the world for some much-needed time away, physically walking in the natural world.
Start outside. Start today. The earth is not waiting for you to enroll anywhere.
It is already practicing.
I love what you say about the light beginning to win. Nature is such an escape and there is much we can learn from ancient wisdom. Thank you for this timely reminder.