A Journey Through the Sabbats
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It is time, dear friend, to speak of the great circle that binds us all — the Wheel of the Year. Long before calendars and clocks, our ancestors marked time by the sun and the moon, by the harvests and the frosts, by the blossoming of flowers and the lengthening of shadows. The Wheel is the ancient rhythm of the earth itself, divided into eight sacred pauses known as the Sabbats.
These are not just old festivals lost to history. They are living reminders that life has a rhythm, that we are meant to flow with the seasons rather than fight against them. To follow the Wheel is to return to yourself, to recognise that light and shadow, growth and rest, all have their place in the dance of being alive.
Come, let me share their stories with you.
Samhain (31st October)
Samhain is often called the witch’s new year, for it marks the end of the harvest and the beginning of winter’s rest. In ancient times, bonfires were lit on hilltops to guide lost spirits, and offerings of food were left at doorways to honour the ancestors. It was a night when the veil between the worlds grew thin, and the living and the dead could share whispers once more.
Folklore tells us that Samhain was not a time of fear, but of reverence. Death was seen as part of the great cycle, not its end. Communities would gather, feasting and remembering, weaving stories of those who had gone before. In this remembering, the bonds of family and spirit grew stronger.
For us today, Samhain is an invitation to release what no longer serves. To light a candle for those we love who now walk in spirit. To place obsidian or smoky quartz on our altar for protection and clarity. It is a festival of endings that reminds us every ending is also the seed of a beginning.
Yule (Winter Solstice)
Yule is the longest night of the year, when the world holds its breath and the sun is reborn. Our ancestors gathered evergreens — holly, ivy, pine — to remind themselves that life persisted even in the coldest season. Great logs were burned on the hearth, their embers kept glowing as a promise of light’s return.
Folklore speaks of the Holly King and Oak King, twin brothers who battle at solstice. The Holly King rules the waning half of the year, but at Yule the Oak King triumphs, bringing back the light. In these tales we see the eternal cycle of decline and renewal, a rhythm written into the heart of the earth.
To honour Yule today, we might place a salt lamp by our bedside to mimic the warmth of firelight, or sip spiced tea in gratitude for the return of the sun. Yule is a time to rest, to wrap yourself in blankets and candlelight, and to trust that no matter how long the night, light will always rise again.
Imbolc (1st–2nd February)
Imbolc is the first whisper of spring, the quiet stirring beneath the frost. It was a festival sacred to Brigid, goddess of the hearth, of poetry, and of new beginnings. Fires and candles were lit to invite her blessings of creativity and renewal, while wells and streams were visited to honour her gift of healing waters.
Folklore tells of Brigid visiting homes on Imbolc Eve, her presence welcomed with food and an empty bed laid out in her honour. To invite Brigid was to welcome inspiration and protection into both hearth and heart. Imbolc was also a time of cleansing, of sweeping out the old to make space for the new.
Today, we can mark Imbolc with the gentle lighting of a candle, the writing of intentions in a journal, or a ritual bath scented with lavender and rosemary. It is the festival of the seed just beginning to stir, reminding us that even in our own lives, new growth often begins in silence and unseen places.
Ostara (Spring Equinox)
Ostara celebrates the balance of day and night, when the earth tips once more into light. Eggs, hares, and blossoming flowers were symbols of fertility, new life, and promise. Across Europe, festivals were held to honour Eostre, the dawn goddess, whose very name lingers in the word Easter.
Folklore connects hares with the moon, their quick movements reflecting the cycles of fertility and rebirth. Eggs were painted and gifted as charms for luck and prosperity. Communities would sow seeds, both in the earth and in their hearts, trusting in the return of abundance.
In our modern sanctuaries, Ostara can be honoured by planting seeds in pots, adorning altars with pastel crystals like rose quartz and moonstone, or simply walking in nature and noticing what is beginning to bloom. It is a gentle reminder that balance is possible and that growth is a natural return after stillness.
Beltane (1st May)
Beltane is a festival of fire, passion, and life at its most vibrant. Fires were lit on hilltops, and couples leapt through the flames hand in hand, sealing vows of love and vitality. Maypoles were danced around, their ribbons weaving patterns of unity, fertility, and joy.
Folklore tells us that the veil is thin at Beltane, much like Samhain, but here the spirits that wander are those of fertility and abundance. Offerings of flowers and milk were left for the fae, inviting blessings of growth and creativity. Communities celebrated union, both of people and of the earth itself.
For us today, Beltane is a reminder to embrace joy without hesitation. To light a candle for passion and creativity, to wear carnelian or garnet jewellery for vitality, or to gather with friends and share laughter. It is a festival of fire in every sense — the spark that reminds us to live fully.
Litha (Summer Solstice)
Litha is the sun at its peak, the longest day of the year. It is a time of abundance, when fields are full, gardens are blooming, and light stretches long into the night. Bonfires were once lit to honour the power of the sun, and herbs were gathered, their potency believed to be greatest on this day.
Folklore tells of people rolling burning wheels down hillsides to symbolise the sun’s turning back toward darkness. Magic was thought to be at its height at midsummer, the air alive with possibility. It was a night when dreams were said to be prophetic, when the world itself was enchanted.
To honour Litha, one might gather herbs for teas or incense, wear bright stones like citrine and sunstone, or simply bask in the sunlight with gratitude. It is the festival of fullness, reminding us to celebrate what we have created, to share it with others, and to give thanks before the Wheel begins its slow decline.
Lughnasadh (1st August)
Lughnasadh, also called Lammas, is the first harvest. Named for the god Lugh, it was once celebrated with great feasts, athletic contests, and community gatherings. Fields of grain were cut, bread baked, and offerings given in thanks for the earth’s generosity.
Folklore speaks of Lughnasadh as a time of both joy and solemnity. Joy for the abundance received, and solemnity for the reminder that winter would come again. It was a time to share, to store, and to prepare.
In our own lives, Lughnasadh can be celebrated by baking bread with intention, placing citrine or amber on our altars for abundance, or offering gratitude for the work we have done. It reminds us that every harvest, no matter how small, is worthy of honour and sharing.
Mabon (Autumn Equinox)
Mabon is the second harvest and the balance point before the dark half of the year. Day and night are once more equal, but now the shadows lengthen. Apples, wine, and grain were traditional offerings, given in thanks for the earth’s gifts and in preparation for rest.
Folklore often describes Mabon as the “Witches’ Thanksgiving.” Communities gathered to share food, tell stories, and reflect on what had been gained and lost. It was a time of gratitude, but also of letting go.
Today, Mabon invites us to reflect and rebalance. To sip spiced tea in the glow of candlelight, to place grounding stones like obsidian or hematite nearby, or to journal about what we are ready to release. It is a gentle pause before the inward journey of winter, a reminder to harvest both crops and wisdom.
These eight Sabbats form the circle of the year, the eternal turning of light into shadow and shadow back into light. To follow them is to live more slowly, more deeply, more in tune with the world that holds us.
And so, dear reader, we begin. In the months ahead I will share tales, rituals, and simple ways you can bring each Sabbat into your own sanctuary — whether through a candle lit with intention, a crystal placed on your altar, or a cup of tea sipped in quiet reverence.
The universe has brought you to this circle, and I am glad you are here. Keep a lookout for our next tale, where we will walk together through the doorway of Samhain, the festival of endings and beginnings.
Until then, may your spirit rest in balance, and may you feel the turning of the Wheel beneath your feet.
Love and light, always.