Samhain: The Magic in Between

A little reflection on life, death, and the beauty of letting go.

It's my favorite time of year. Samhain.

I'm writing this tonight with Crystal by Stevie Nicks playing in the background. Cliché, I know. But special. I've got a cup of tea in hand, and I'm sitting here steeping in everything this year has brought me.

Looking back at the beginning of 2026, I would have NEVER guessed this is where I'd be, let alone where I'm headed next.

If you've ever heard me talk about how sometimes, on our way from point A to point B, we end up way the hell somewhere else entirely, this is what I mean.

This is the magic in between.

The space where life unfolds in ways we couldn't have possibly planned. Where the unexpected becomes the very thing we needed. Where we learn that maybe, just maybe, we don't need to know exactly where we're going to appreciate where we are.

And damn,,, what a year it's been.

A season of returning

Samhain marks the end of the harvest season and the beginning of the darker half of the year. Traditionally, it's a time to honor those who came before us, acknowledge the cycles of life and death, and turn inward.

There's something so beautiful about this time of year. The decay. The damp earth. The trees shedding everything they've spent months growing. The reminder that even the most vibrant things eventually return to the soil.

Everything returns.

Back to the earth. Back to where it all began.

This magnificent, messy cycle of life and death.

I don't think we can talk about death without celebrating life.

In yoga philosophy, there's a concept called Abhiniveśa, one of the five kleśas, or afflictions, described in the Yoga Sūtras of Patañjali.

Abhiniveśa is often translated as "clinging to life", or the 'deep instinctive fear of death".

I've been sitting with this one lately...

Because isn't it interesting how we find so much beauty in the very things that remind us of impermanence?

We travel to see the leaves change color. We marvel at the explosive sunsets that last only a few minutes. We breathe in the smell of wet earth as everything slowly returns to the ground.

We celebrate the beauty of things ending.

And yet, when it comes to our own lives, our own identities, our own attachments, letting go can feel absolutely terrifying.

I wonder sometimes if part of our fear of death comes from a fear of really living.

Of surrendering to the unknown. Of allowing ourselves to change. Of accepting that nothing (including the version of ourselves we've worked so hard to become), is permanent.

If death were to meet me in the coming weeks, I could look back on my life and know that I have lived joyfully. I've loved deeply. I've experienced freedom, heartbreak, adventure, and more beauty than I ever could have imagined.

Don't get me wrong, I've got a whole hell of a lot more living I want to do, but I'm grateful. Grateful for all the lives I've gotten to live within this one.

For every version of myself that had to die so that I could stand here as the person I am today.

Tending to the soil

This season, I'm practicing saying goodbye to a few more versions of myself.

The critic. The one who gets in his own way. The one who sometimes believes the limiting stories he's told himself.

Those parts of me have served their purpose, but I don't need to keep carrying all of them.

Instead, I'm inviting in a little more softness, more rest and more stillness.

I'm learning to tend to the soil of my own life. To trust that the darker seasons aren't something to rush through, but something to honor.

The earth doesn't bloom year-round...

Why the hell do we expect ourselves to?

There is work happening beneath the surface, even when nothing appears to be growing.

Maybe that's the practice right now. To stop digging up the seeds to see if they've sprouted. To trust that what's meant to grow will find its way when the light returns.

I am loved. I am grateful. I am blessed.

I don't need to know what happens next to believe that.

A little life update

I'm nearing the end of my time here in Fort Lauderdale, and I'm so glad I said yes to this chapter.

It's been such a gift to be a student again. To step into a new community, share my teaching, learn from other teachers, and find myself, once again, in my element.

I miss the crisp fall air of the foothills. The changing leaves. The smell of woodsmoke and the way the earth feels this time of year. Florida does have its own kind of magic.

The warm sunshine, the afternoon rainstorms, the beautiful people I've gotten to meet.

Another unexpected stop somewhere between point A and point B.

And another reminder that life has a funny way of putting us exactly where we need to be.

Finding the glimmers

Speaking of unexpected things...

Yesterday, our car broke down on the side of the road. Completely out of nowhere. No warning. Just... done.

One of those moments where I think most people would be absolutely livid.

I laughed.

Because, like,,, what else was there to do?

The car was broken. We weren't going anywhere. Getting upset wasn't going to magically fix the engine.

So I walked to a nearby store, grabbed us a couple of sandwiches and a Diet Coke, and we settled in to wait for the tow truck.

I looked over at Adam and said, "Well, at least we're stopped in the shade and the sun is out."

We laughed.

Sure, it threw a wrench in the day. We had places to be and things to do.

But we were okay.

We had food. We had shade. We had good company.

It reminded me that so much of our suffering comes from fighting what already is.

We don't always get to choose what happens to us, but we do get to practice choosing how we meet it.

We can spend our energy being furious about the things outside our control, or we can look for the little glimmers.

The silver linings.

The sandwiches and Diet Cokes on the side of the road.

It's not about pretending everything is wonderful all the time. Sometimes things genuinely suck, and we get to feel that too.

But there's freedom in realizing we don't have to make an already difficult moment even harder.

Maybe that's another kind of letting go.

The magic in between

As we move into this darker season, I hope you give yourself permission to slow down.

To look back at everything this year has given you, including the things you never asked for.

To honor the versions of yourself that got you here, even the ones you're ready to leave behind.

To remember that endings aren't always failures. Sometimes they're simply the earth making room for something new.

And perhaps most importantly, to enjoy the life that's happening right now, somewhere between where you thought you'd be and wherever the hell you're going next.

Ya'll, there's so much magic here..

In the in-between, the letting go,

In the simple, ordinary moments that remind us how lucky we are to be alive.

Happy Samhain, friends.

May we honor what has passed, find peace in what is, and trust what has yet to come.

With so much gratitude,

Axel