Naoise Ní Bhroin: ‘Ní hé lá na gaoithe lá na scolb’ – the windy day is not the day for thatching

As Mí na Samhna – November draws us into its dark cloak of laethanta níos giorra agus oícheanta níos faide – shorter days and longer nights, I find myself observing nature more closely and remembering the seanfhocal: “Ní hé lá na gaoithe lá na scolb” – the windy day is not the day for thatching.

During my advanced yoga training in Mexico, my teacher often said: whenever you need direction or inspiration, ask nature. This month, labhraíonn an nádúr go han-soiléir dúinn – nature speaks clearly to us. Everything begins to draw back now. Scaoil na crainn a nduilleoga – trees have shed their leaves, reminding us to release what no longer serves us. Animals retreat into hibernation, signalling the need for scíth níos doimhne – deeper rest. The days grow colder, calling us to seek cothú ón taobh istigh – nourishment from within.

In Ireland, this descent tríd an dorchadas – through darkness, is known as the time of ‘An Chailleach’, the winter goddess who governs ciúnas, claochlú, agus an tsuaimhneas doimhne roimh athnuachan – stillness, transformation, and the deep rest before renewal. Tá an talamh ina thost – the land is silent, and this silence is not emptiness but gestation.

Yoga mirrors this eagna an tséasúir – seasonal wisdom. Through ‘aparigraha’, non-grasping, we release what we’ve outgrown. A slow yin practice becomes a grounding ritual: hold a gentle forward fold and samhlaigh sraitheanna na bliana á síor-scaoileadh díot, anál in ndiadh anál – imagine shedding the layers of the year, one breath at a time.

In the traidisiún Ceilteach – Celtic tradition, this season was also a time i gcór coinnle a lasadh – to light candles and honour our sinsir – ancestors. In yoga, this echoes the practice of acknowledging the teachers and experiences that shape us. You might light a candle or place a photo on a small altar, offering gratitude for treoir – guidance, for ceachtanna – lessons and for críocha – endings that make space for something new.

On a recent turas – trip to Bali, I was moved by a deasghnáth – daily ritual that carried this same spirit of presence and devotion. Gach maidin – each morning, the Balinese place ‘canang sari’, small offerings of bláthanna, rís agus túis– flowers, rice, and incense at doorways and temple steps. These simple gestures reminded me of cumhacht brí a thabhairt don ghnáthrud – the power of marking the ordinary with meaning, and the state of presence this brings.

As the days darken, our fuinneamh – energy turns inward. Machnamh – meditation, journaling, and slower breaths become powerful companions. Tugann an séasúr cuireadh dúinn – this season invites us to rest, reflect, and trust that the obair chiúin – quiet work done now will stir and bláthú – blossom at Imbolc, when Brigid’s returning light softens greim an gheimhridh – winter’s hold.

So as the year closes, stad – pause. Resist the urge to brostú ar aghaidh – rush ahead. Light a candle. Step onto your mat. Lig do scíth agus éist – rest and listen for what’s quietly growing within. Because truly, ní hé lá na gaoithe lá na scolb.