Dusking: the evening ritual you need to try

As the dark nights draw in, could the art of watching the day end be the most powerful form of mindfulness you’ve never tried?

If you’re up with the morning light and listening to birdsong, you’re probably already aware of nature’s powerful ability to provide a moment of mindfulness in this frenetic world. But what if we applied that same relaxing energy to the end of the day, as well as upon waking?

Somewhere between the last of the afternoon light and the start of darkness, the world does something remarkable: it slows. And often, we’re in too much of a rush to notice. We finish work in a rush, get the dinner on, put kids to bed, and flop down on the sofa. But in Dutch, there’s a word for this transition between light and dark: schemeren. Known to us as ‘dusking’, it’s defined by the Cambridge Dictionary as the act of watching daylight turn to darkness as a form of relaxation.

In the Netherlands, families gather in the fading light, neither switching on the lamps nor holding on to the day, simply sitting together in the in-between. No screens. No agenda. Just the communal act of watching darkness come.

For author and chartered psychologist Suzy Reading, this practice is one she loves and has seen bear beautiful fruit in her own life. “Dusking can be wonderfully effective as a supportive activity for those who struggle with darker evenings,” she explains. “Rather than night abruptly arriving to scupper productivity, ‘dusking’ highlights the gradual shift from day to night, and by watching it you can intentionally create a more gradual and purposeful switch in your patterns of activity.”

If you’re wondering if you need to be sitting cross-legged in the dark, don’t panic. Dusking is not meditation in the traditional sense. It does not ask you to close your eyes or turn inward. It asks that you become, for just a little while, a witness to the world as well as a participant in it.

And for those feeling a bit wobbly about the nights getting darker again, dusking could be the ritual you’ve been looking for.

“Watching it, moment by moment, darkness becomes less of a sudden, unwanted experience; choosing to witness it, you also become an active participant, connecting you with nature, the seasons, other people, rather than feeling so alone,” explains Suzy.

With so much of modern wellbeing and self-improvement asking us to look at our own feelings, thoughts, and behaviours, nature gives us something to connect with – and also connect through. For psychodynamic psychotherapist Kate Beckwith, that can be particularly valuable.

“Our brains and nervous systems evolved under radically different conditions from the ones we now ask them to tolerate,” Kate explains. “Our bodies still live in relationship with light: our circadian rhythms respond to the natural cycle of day and night, even though modern life increasingly allows us to ignore it.”

If we think back to the end of summer 2026 and how many of us gathered outside, colanders in hand, to catch a glimpse of a partial solar eclipse, the same ritual can be applied to dusking – sans kitchen utensils.

For Kate, there is something profoundly connecting about deliberately observing the day’s ending. “Somewhere else in the world, other people are also witnessing that same sky,” shares Kate. “Humans have watched sunsets for hundreds of thousands of years, and cultures throughout history have given light and seasonal cycles spiritual meaning.”

The beauty of this ritual is that it is so easily done at home as the shorter days roll in.

According to Suzy, this is the perfect time to reframe darkness as time for rest and reflection. This way, the darker nights can be welcomed rather than dreaded.

“I love that this practice builds your mindfulness muscles, dialling up your senses and the ability to be present in your own life,” says Suzy. “Life really changes when you become an ‘awe hunter’, alive to the joys available to you, anchored in a more compassionate pace, all year round.”

For Kate, watching the day roll into night reminds us that we belong here – not at the centre of the world, but as one tiny living part of it. “You don’t need to buy anything, achieve anything or improve yourself. For a moment, life isn’t something to optimise.”

The evenings out in the garden don’t have to come to an abrupt end after summer. Why not make a date with twilight? Take a blanket outside, wrap up, and enjoy a cup of something warming. All you need is a chair and a willingness to slow down and notice. Be intentional and deliberate with your time at the end of the day and allow the evening to unfold.