Our relationship with sunlight is far more intimate than we realize. When light enters our eyes, it allows us to literally see the world around us, but it also triggers powerful biological processes. Specialized photoreceptors in the retina send signals through the optic nerve to regions of the brain that regulate hormones and mood. Morning sunlight, in particular, stimulates the release of serotonin, which stabilizes mood, supports our focus, and helps us feel calm and present. That’s why it’s so important to step outside in the morning and let natural daylight reach your eyes — without sunglasses — while avoiding staring directly at the sun.
It’s important to pay attention to the light at the end of the day as well. Melatonin is one of the millions of primal molecules that remind us that we are tied to Earth cycles, no matter what we choose to do with our time. When we are chronically out of sync, our bodies let us know. One of my remedies is to prescribe dusking. I like to think of dusk not just as a time of day, but as an activity. Dusk is the slow exhale of the day, a liminal space between light and dark, doing and being. To walk or sit in the natural world at dusk is to reenter and remember ancient rhythms. The practice of dusking entails mindful observation of the transition from day to night, serving as a respite from hyperproduction. It is an exercise in mindfulness, offering a break from consumption and encouraging contemplation. Just as our ancestors once did, under fading sunlight and firelight, we can decide that it is time to change the rhythm of the day.
Science affirms what Indigenous and ancestral traditions have long known: Dusk is a biologically sacred time. As the light begins to dim, our physiology begins to shift. Melatonin secretion begins in response to decreasing blue light. The sympathetic nervous system winds down, and parasympathetic activity increases. Cortisol naturally drops, reducing alertness and anxiety while signaling the body to prepare for rest. Just 20 to 30 minutes of exposure to sunset tones can shift our entire hormonal and neurological state toward calm, balance, and restoration.
Psychologically, dusk invites integration, a chance to metabolize the day and move from the now into the next.
I think dusking may hold something uniquely grounding: a return to our biological truth. In one study, participants who spent evenings outdoors reported lower anxiety, greater sleep satisfaction, and a stronger sense of spiritual connection to the land. Psychologically, dusk invites integration, a chance to metabolize the day and move from the now into the next. As the shadows lengthen and we soften, the nervous system settles and insights might stir. For some of you, dusk might be a portal to safety and somatic peace, particularly when it’s accompanied by birdsong, breeze, or familiar smells of soil and air.
Dusking is more than a biological shift; it is an intentional return to presence.
If you’d like to try it, simply go outside at dusk and witness the change of light. Walk the dog, walk yourself, get out of your office and away from your computer and desk, and take in the grandeur of the evening sky. The purplish pinks and light and bright blues, the light grays and whites. Notice the birds making their way across the sky toward warmer, safer resting places. Dusking is more than a biological shift; it is an intentional return to presence. It is the moment where the day eases into quietude, where the body is allowed to exhale fully, where the world surrenders to stillness. To dusk is to honor the wisdom of darkness, to trust that not all hours must be filled with light, and to remember that the body thrives when we allow it to follow the rhythm of the Earth. If you can’t get outside, simply notice the dusk inside your house, and take the time to truly sink into the waning light — with your breath, your eyes, and your mindful noticing. Even from a window, dusk can still program the brain and body to ready you for sleep several hours later. Gradually dim the lights and slow activities in the evening when you are able.
We can restore this lost rhythm! Consider dusking an act of resistance: a refusal to believe that every moment must serve a purpose; a rejection of rigid, binary thinking; and a pushback against the relentless pursuit of growth and improvement that defines so much of modern life.
Excerpted from Medicine for All People: Science and Ancient Wisdom for Revolutionary Healing by Geeta Maker-Clark, MD. Published by Chelsea Green Publishing, 2026.
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