Autumn Equinox - The Call of the Soil
The darkness is noticeable now. It is rising, and all that has grown through the light-filled days of spring and summer is now sinking down, bending towards, surrendering to, the call of the soil.
Crickets and crisp winds, asters and falling acorns, define my world. The indigo night sky becomes crystalline as the stars shimmer in the cool, bright air. In my local New England landscape these are all harbingers of the coming and arrival of autumn. My being relaxes into the coolness, free of the stranglehold of the summertime heat and intense light.
The hum of the blood flowing through my veins matches the cadence of the crickets. It's a kind of ecstasy. It lifts me up as if on a magic carpet of sound interwoven with monarch butterflies, goldenrod, rose hips, and the quiet that follows a bright, full happening.
Here in the northern hemisphere after a long stretch of expansion, growth, openness, and light, we are once more beginning the descent into the darkness as the sun marches steadily southward along the horizon.
Autumn Equinox is a time when we are balanced just at the tipping point, that with every coming day, promises to carry us further away from the light above the surface and down, down into discovering the light that dwells beneath the surface, the light within ourselves and within the Earth.
For today at least, we can still play within the last glimmers of summer's radiant glow. The warmth is still here, but it's weakening. We haven't quite replaced our sandals and our light-weight clothes with wool sweaters, scarves and gloves yet. The snow shovel remains buried in the shed beneath the hoe and rake. Give it another two months and it will no doubt take up it's post beside the front door. But for right now, we're enjoying hot mulled cider, the country fair and the bright splash of orange and red leaves of the swamp maples along the side of the road. The geese haven't left to head south quite yet, but the hummingbirds left about two weeks ago. Once the hurricane passed by they were gone. I've seen a few osprey, but I'm sure they're the stragglers and will soon be flying south, too.
Wherever you are, whether you're welcoming in autumn or spring, it's a powerful time to celebrate life, and to open to the beauty of change.