Under the wide-open sky that Tengriism reveres, calendars still turn in harmony with sun and moon. The spring equinox—better known across Central Asia as Nauryz—lights up March 21–22 with a spirit of renewal. Across Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan and beyond, streets buzz with kumis toasts, bonfires crackling as families dish out baursaks (fried dough) and share stories under a sky that once guided nomads. In 2025, Almaty’s three-day Nauryz carnival drew record crowds, blending ancient horse-racing traditions with contemporary music festivals.

When the full moon of late winter arrives, Buryat communities observe Sagaalgan, the “White Moon” New Year. Ancestral altars brim with milk, grains and silver-colored offerings, symbolizing purity and fresh starts. Though often linked to Buddhist customs, its roots echo Tengriist moon-god reverence, reminding participants that sky and earth pulse as one.

Summer solstice gatherings—like the Yakut Yhyakh festival in Siberia—mark the sun’s zenith. Shamans beat drums, mountaintop shrines glow with smoke, and rivers bear floating wreaths of wildflowers. Across Mongolia’s steppes, herders honor Otgon Shilüün (Tengri’s protective spirit) by sacrificing a lamb or horse, then hosting communal feasts where throat singing rises over crackling hearths.

Autumn brings harvest festivals, when fields heavy with millet, barley and wild fruits prompt heartfelt gratitude. In Kyrgyz Ala-Too villages, golden sheaves decorate yurts; horse-meat stews warm chilly evenings; and sacrificial rites thank Tengri for abundance. Folk dancers circle grain-laden tables, celebrating both bounty and balance.

Even winter’s solstice earns a quiet observance: small fires flicker at family doorsteps, sealing wishes for health and harmony until the sun’s return. Today’s Tengriist revivals—often woven into national holidays—honor the cosmic rhythm that once guided Genghis Khan’s riders and still whispers through the rustling steppe grass.