Dusking is a trend aimed at helping people switch off at the end of the day. How does it work?

At the end of the day, as the sky begins to darken, many people instinctively retreat indoors, turn on the lights and miss the arrival of dusk.

A small but growing movement suggests people can benefit from doing the opposite: stepping outside and observing the slow transition from day to night. This practice, often described as “dusking”, involves watching the light start to disappear, noticing the changing colours of the sky, the emergence of evening sounds, and the quiet rhythms that mark the close of the day.

This practice is rooted in historical traditions found in places as diverse as the Netherlands and parts of Africa. The idea has recently been revived by artist Lucy Wright and by Dutch poet Marjolijn van Heemstra among others.

Wright performs a style of Morris dance that encourages participants “to dance the old sun down”, drawing attention to the moment when daylight fades.

Van Heemstra describes dusking as taking time to simply watch the sunset and the gradual fading of light as a way of reconnecting with natural rhythms. In a world dominated by relentless digital stimulation, she believes that taking time to look at the sky can help restore awareness of our surroundings. She now organises regular dusking events across the Netherlands. “All you need is a chair and a view,” she said.

Across cultures, dusk marks the shift from activity to rest, from work to home, and from light to darkness; a boundary where social rhythms change. These in-between moments can invite reflection on the environment.

Across many cultures, dusk has also been associated with uncertainty and imagination. The fading of light has long been linked to folklore, ghost stories and childhood fears of the dark, moments when the familiar landscape becomes slightly unfamiliar.

When the sun goes down

Dusk also marks a particular point in the daily rhythm of the natural world. Many species become active during this transitional period, including bats leaving their roosts to hunt, while moths and other nocturnal insects begin to fly, and mammals such as deer, foxes, and hedgehogs emerge to forage. Biologists often study dawn and dusk because animal behaviour shifts notably during these times of the day.

The idea behind dusking aligns with studies indicating that briefly focusing on natural surroundings can enhance wellbeing and relaxation. Simply observing changes in light, sound, and atmosphere may also encourage a shift from the constant hustle of the work day to winding down, potentially moving people towards sleep.

Sounds of twilight

In our research, carried out in the North York Moors National Park, participants said that while walking at twilight, or in darkness, they became more aware of natural smells and sounds. The group noticed the transitions from daytime birdsong, with the robin last to tweet, to nighttime animal sounds and the hoot of an owl. These moments frequently produced quiet reflection.

In the last century, the places where people can experience darkness have reduced dramatically because of increasing artificial light glow from homes and office buildings. Now only 10% of the people living in the western hemisphere experience places with dark skies, where there is no, or little, artificial light. And the number of people who can see the Milky Way is reducing all the time.

Previous generations were more accustomed to navigating in low light, using their senses to move through landscapes after sunset. Today, this sensory knowledge has become increasingly rare in our artificially illuminated world.

Artificial lighting frequently masks the subtle environmental cues that once dictated the rhythm of everyday life. Noticing dusk, even briefly, can bring those rhythms back into focus.

The sky darkens, the air cools, birds shift their calls, and the world moves quietly toward night.

To quote the 18th-century poet Thomas Gray: “Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight. And all the air a solemn stillness holds.”

Of course, watching the sunset is hardly a new idea as Gray’s poem shows, but one it seems we may have forgotten to value to our detriment.

The authors do not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and have disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.