November into the Darkness

November is the finest time of the year for shedding, as the New Year draws near. The days grow shorter, and we begin to feel our own darkness rising. This month brings a rare opportunity to inventory the space around us—the silence, the discipline, the magic waiting at the threshold. Rebirth, regeneration, and transformation are the vital elements of this witchy and precious time.

Death is deeply apparent in November. Life slows and quiets all around us. The air is crisp, leaves fall away, and the external world calls us to shield ourselves from the cold. November sits between the Autumn Equinox and the Winter Solstice—a center point offering a glance both backward and forward. Ancestral spirits whisper through our longer, darker dreams, coaxing us to rise into our own becoming. This is the time to become the one you came here to be: a spiritual being cloaked in limitlessness. A time for death. A time for birth.

Spring and Summer are seasons of outward expansion, but now the introvert within us asks for sanctuary. In this inner world, we dream and imagine; and from these dreams, new life is born. It is here we watch difficult thoughts rise and realize how much of our suffering is self-created. Now is a refresher course in courage. Autumn and Winter hold the essence of a dark forest we enter alone—and emerge from, scraped and starved, yet alive and brimming with strength. Confidence arises when we’ve learned to slay a few dragons. Parts of us must die to make space for rebirth. November is a brilliant time for journaling and dreaming into our solar months. Plant your adventures now.

Last November, I was wrapped in depression so heavy I wondered if I would ever move again. In a deep meditation, I asked for grace. By Christmas Eve, I was fevered with the flu. It held me until New Year’s Day. No festivities. No parties. Just my bed and my breath. And I knew somehow, I had called this in—a cellular purge to greet the new year clean. I emerged clear, ready, regenerated. I had shed 2023. And every year before it.

Reading Letting Go by David Hawkins helped me dissolve my old programs of codependency and attachment. Pleasing, fixing, chasing—these illusions began to fade. And in their absence? Space. A soft, almost mournful spaciousness. Who am I without busyness or distraction? From last November to this one, I have crossed a long chapter. It was slow. Sometimes dull. But it built toward this moment. And now—I feel the promise of light again.

The intellect can walk us toward transformation, but surrender only blooms from stillness. I spent so long frozen before the impasse, unable to move. But just on the other side of the wall was surrender. Grief and mourning our old self are not detours. They are rites of passage. And through them, we find hope.

After a deep shedding, where do we go with this new skin? Letting go is hard. And yes, even shedding brings grief. Something dies. And death requires mourning. I found myself in unfamiliar territory. Nothing pulling from me—not even my own old habits. But why was I sad? Because rebirth is lonely, too. But it is also ripe for creation.

Space is the great elixir of growth.

With more room, we plant new seeds for our future selves. Over the last decade, I’ve found that my practices—my rituals—are what carry me through. Change is hard. But habits anchor us. Here are a few that support me:

1. Hydration: We are water. Sip warm teas, soups, and stews to nourish your cells through the dryness of fall.

2. Prayer & Meditation: Intentional silence helps shed old programs. Meditation regenerates our vitality.

3. Dry Brushing: This ancient Ayurvedic practice stimulates cellular renewal and brings radiance to your skin.

4. Fermentation & Kitchen Alchemy: Kombucha, sourdough, and fermented foods spark gut vitality. Fermentation is sacred. I named my SCOBY "Phoenix."

5. Dream Journaling: November dreams run deep. Start recording them. Their symbols are sacred messages.

6. Warming Rituals: Infrared yoga, saunas, hot tubs, and spiced teas bring heat into your body and stoke circulation.

7. Hygge: This Danish art of coziness invites us to light candles, play soft music, and bask in quiet comfort.

8. Yoga Nidra & Sleep Hypnosis: Let guided rest bring your nervous system back to balance. Explore Michael Sealey or Audible meditations.

Let stillness be your teacher. Let your feelings arise. Rest more. Wake gently. Go easy into the darkness, and the darkness will reveal you to yourself. Enjoy sweet root vegetables. Let your kitchen become an altar.

A Favorite November Recipe: Roast butternut squash, a tulip of garlic, an onion, carrots, and an apple. Add turmeric and paprika. Blend into a stew. Sweeten with maple syrup. Comfort food, from earth to soul.

Shedding

A large brown snake rests on a cold stone. Dusk leans in. She coils into herself, forming a spiral, And begins to churn. And churn. And churn. I turn my cheek to the twilight sky, And when I return my gaze, Only her skin remains. She has gone, But not without a trace.

The butterfly, the woodpecker, the tree— Air, fire, earth— They are not just symbols, They are me.

I watch. I feel. I learn. I surrender. Om Shanti.

As an Ayurvedic Health Counselor with 800 hours of training in this sister science to yoga, I am honored to share simple practices with you. Please consult your physician or licensed practitioner before beginning any new wellness protocols.

Tina Chabot

Tina Chabot School of Yoga

e-RYT 500

Ayurvedic Wellness Coach

Ayurvedic Health Counselor