Spring Equinox: When the World Tilts Back Toward the Light

Content Notes: chronic illness, disability, winter fatigue, complicated hope
Tone Notes: reflective, gentle, grounded folklore and seasonal magic
(No graphic content. No medical detail.)

Welcome back to the Cryptid’s Den.
This is The Crippled Cryptid.

A soft-lit corner of the internet where disability, chronic illness, service dogs, and everyday survival magic gather like familiar spirits who know when to sit quietly and when to laugh too loud.

If you’re new here: hi. I’m Sky.
Professional cryptid.
Unwilling amateur cyborg.
Medically interesting enough to make half my providers sigh when they open my chart.

I sigh too. Often. Loudly.

I live in a haunted meat suit with a deeply suspicious warranty. I spend a lot of time in Bed Jail™. I am almost never alone thanks to my medical alert service dog, Luna. She is part guardian, part shadow, part stern little voice that says, “Excuse me, Mama. Sit your ass down. Right now.”

Of course, don’t forget M&M. She’s never far, always there with the 90% when I only have 10 to give.

This space has always been about showing up for ourselves even when our bodies refuse to cooperate.
Chronic illness without inspiration porn.
Disability without apologies.
Love without pretending it’s always easy.

Returning cryptids: welcome home.
New cryptids: pull up a chair.
Welcome to the Lunatic Café. The Den is big enough for all of us.

On Today’s Menu: The Spring Equinox: When the World Tilts Back Toward the Light

If you’re reading this today, you made it!

Today is March 20th, which means it is officially the spring equinox here in the northern hemisphere. Night and day stand in balance. The light stops retreating and begins, slowly, to return.

No more 4pm sunsets people, that in and of itself is a reason to celebrate!

It also means I’m almost ready to start planting our garden. And yes, I am more excited about that than I have words for. If you didn’t know, I have plans. Many plans. Some of them were set in stone before winter even arrived, which feels reasonable given how strange this winter has been here in Illinois.

You can read all about those plans in the Garden of Whimsy tab.

There are plants that are welcome back in our garden today, tomorrow, and every day after that.
There are others that can stay in 2025 forever and will never be welcome back.

I have a few people like that too.

The equinox is not loud magic. It doesn’t kick down doors or demand transformation. It is a quiet tilt. A pause at the threshold between seasons.

In many Celtic traditions, this time marked preparation. Sowing. Blessing. Ready-ing the soil for what would come next. Seeds sown at the equinox were thought to carry a special kind of magic: a promise that life could start again even in the shadow of winter.

For those of us whose bodies run on a completely different calendar, the equinox offers something precious.

Permission.

Permission to pause.
Permission to begin again gently.
Permission to notice what survived the winter, even if it didn’t look pretty doing it.

This is magic that doesn’t require a wand or an incantation. It only asks that you notice. That you breathe. That you step lightly into the longer days.

If you like, you can try a small ritual today: a cup of tea in the sun, a patch of light on your favorite plant, a slow stretch in a quiet corner. That’s it. That’s more than enough.

Let the light in where it can reach you.
Let your small victories bloom quietly.
You survived the dark, and that is enough.

Even Luna seems to feel it. Her tail has been wagging extra fast today, and I suspect she knows the sun is winning again.

If M&M and the Yard Yeti aren’t careful, I may start my version of spring cleaning soon. By that I mean sweeping out the dust, evicting the cobwebs, and terrorizing BJ into bringing out the deck furniture so that someday soon, we can eat dinner outside and watch the sun go down.

This is the time of year when I let myself feel hopeful.

Not recklessly hopeful. Not “everything will be fixed” hopeful. But the kind where my body may not know which way is up or down, yet I know this:

We made it through the hard part.

We made it through the dead of winter.
We made it to spring.

That alone should feel like a win.

Reflection for you: What grew quietly in your winter? What do you want to nurture this spring? Even small answers matter.

Love you. Now say it back.
-Sky

© The Crippled Cryptid
Disability, honesty, and a little chaos.

If you’re here, you belong here.
If today was heavy, thank you for carrying it with me.
If you’re reading from Bed Jail™, give your service dog an extra scritch for me. 🐾

🔗 https://linktr.ee/skylanarissa

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