Thursday musings on the thinning veil, solitude’s edge, and learning to work in the dark.

The veil is thinning. You’ve probably heard me say this before. It’s October, after all, when the mystical and the mundane are supposed to blur together like watercolours left out in the rain.

But what I’m actually noticing, both in my own experience and with clients, is that it’s not just mystical, it’s practical, tangible, and disorienting in ways that affect your daily life.

How? We’re dreaming more, and not just vivid ones, but the kind where you wake up confused about what timeline you’re in. Alpha state bleed-throughs during ordinary moments. That strange sensation of not being able to see or feel too far into the future, like someone dimmed the headlights, and you can only see a few feet ahead.

Time feels slippery, timelines feel negotiable, and the boundaries between what was, what is, and what might be, gets fuzzy around the edges.

If you’re experiencing any of this and wondering if you’re losing your grip, you’re not. You’re right on schedule for mid-October in the northern hemisphere. (And if you’re reading this from the southern hemisphere where spring is arriving, your experience might be the opposite. Things clarifying, future coming into focus. Same energetic shift, different direction.)

The work that happens in the dark

I’ve noticed something about my practice as we move deeper into fall. Nobody’s starting anything new right now. Nobody’s ending anything either. Everyone’s IN it. In the middle of transitions that sometimes don’t even have names yet. And in the thick of processing, that doesn’t want to resolve quickly.

The work gets deeper, and the kaleidoscope keeps turning to different perspectives on the same patterns. You might want linear progress, but what you’re getting is spiral deepening. And it needs a different kind of patience than summer’s expansive energy.

This is the season for slow work, for sitting with what can’t be solved immediately, and letting things compost in the dark before they’re ready to show themselves.

Then there’s the tricky line between solitude and isolation

As someone who genuinely loves solitude, who recharges in quiet, and manages energy best when I have space to breathe, I’ve learned that the line between chosen solitude and disconnected isolation gets dangerously blurry this time of year. Full stop.

Cocooning feels natural when the days get shorter. And it should. The pull inward isn’t something to resist. It’s actually seasonal intelligence. But there’s a difference between conscious retreat and accidentally disappearing into yourself until depression sets in.

I’ve learned my own boundaries through trial and error. I talk to my best friend multiple times a day. I go out daily, even if it’s just errands. I walk with my ducks for hours, which might look like solitude but is actually relationship because they’re present, responsive, and alive.

The trick isn’t avoiding the cocoon. It’s not staying in it for too long at one time. It’s honouring the need for internal space and giving yourself just enough external tethers that you don’t drift completely away from yourself.

We’re in gentle preparation for what’s coming

This newsletter is about preparing for what this season asks of each of us.

The darker half of the year isn’t for forcing clarity or manufacturing motivation. It’s for letting things gestate, doing the deep work that doesn’t show up on progress reports, and learning to trust what you can’t see yet.

If you can’t feel the future clearly right now, that’s not a problem to solve. But it IS information about what this season wants. I’d call it presence with what is, rather than projection into what might be.

If your dreams are strange and your sense of time feels off, you’re porous in ways that let deeper information through. The question is, can you work with that instead of fighting it?

But if you want to think about spring…

While we’re here, preparing for the dark, I want to plant a small seed about what’s coming when the light returns.

Next spring, I’ll be offering something: 3-night private soul retreats here on the Sunshine Coast. One-to-one. In-person. Think of it as a chance to retreat into stillness, reconnect with what matters, and receive deeply personal sessions designed just for you.

I’m not ready to open these yet. It’s also not the season for beginnings. But I wanted you to know they’re germinating in the dark, just like everything else worth creating.

For now, the work is simpler. Honour the thinning. Notice where the boundaries are blurring. Don’t fight the pull to internal space, but also don’t disappear into it completely.

Yes, the veil is thin, time is strange, and the future is foggy. And all of that is exactly right for mid-October.

Here’s to all the souls learning to work in the dark,

Jonni

PS: If you’re IN it right now, in the middle of processing something that won’t resolve quickly, or in a transition of some kind, or in the thick of something that needs witness, patience, and soul-deep support, that’s exactly what my Unlimited offering holds space for. The non-linear, messy, can’t-see-the-end-yet work that this season specializes in. 

“Dr. Jonni has a truly precious gift: she helped me navigate profound grief around stepping back from my son’s addiction, offering deeper perspective on what I knew but couldn’t find the words to express. Her ability to articulate and reflect back with more clarity gave me the strength I desperately needed to break free from the cycle. She gave me peace and freedom around the most difficult and heartbreaking decision to finally let go.” — Cindy R.