There is a time of day when the world begins to soften.

Light stretches low and long. Shadows lengthen and move gently across the ground. The air cools just enough to be felt on the skin. It invites closeness. What was loud begins to quiet. A hush without the rush is heard. What was scattered begins to gather — the start of the calm return.

This is an hour people have always known.

In this moment, work pauses, bodies rest. A fire is lit not to chase away the darkness, but to welcome it with warmth. Around the fire, there’s a subtle shift.

Faces glow. Breaths deepen. Stories arrive without effort. Music notes float. Laughter comforts like a blanket. Silence feels kind rather than empty. The flame flickers and reminds us of the light within. Each person carries their own ember, shaped by memory, love, grief, and hope. Sitting together, staying a while, those embers begin to recognize one another.

The Tending Circle lives here — this place and pace.

It is a return to remembering — to the quiet glow within you and around you. When we tend the fire together, adding a log, watching the embers glow, knowing it will need care again, this is where connection is invited naturally, through presence. The simple act of showing up as you are keeps the flame alive.

Light held in darkness.
Warmth shared in the night.
Presence over productivity.
A flame tended together.

If you feel the pull of this moment, you are already welcome. You only need your presence and a willingness to tend the small flame within you, alongside others doing the same.

Come sit by the fire.

There is room here.