Whether it’s science or magic, if it’s of fun benefit, enjoy!” ~ ed
September 23, 2019
Autumn Equinox (Northern Hemisphere), Spring Equinox (Southern) under a Waning Crescent Moon in Cancer
What is the magic that awakens our inner mystic during the Equinox, when the light is equal between night and day?
Whether we are sinking deep into the shadows in the Northern hemisphere, or opening to the light south of the Equator, there is a resonance with the Earth beneath our feet.
In the north, we identify with the hag, the crone, the fragrant, rotting leaves, the early nod to death, and transformation as nature begins to gather her skirts and tuck them a bit tighter against the coming cold. It is a magical time when gratitude lies soft on the tongue. We look to a plentiful harvest while reveling in the colors of Autumn, rich in hues of orange, yellow, and red.
The Equinox is a time of weighing and finding balance. What can we keep that is useful and meaningful—what shall we release?
There is also a tinge of sweet regret on the air. Summer has sung the last of her arias…we must accept that the days are shortening. Autumn sacrifices summers beauty to the mystery of decay. Once there was plenty, now the Crone plans her winter larder, drying seed heads, putting down preserves, checking her cupboards against winter’s scarcity.
All part of the cycle, all reminders that time is not linear, but cyclical. With each shorter day, there is also the hope of a future when the light will return—and that is exactly what is happening in the Southern Hemisphere.
Down under, the maiden sun stretches her still tender rays caressing the sodden earth of winter. She brings a sense of wonder and delight, as blood runs quicker, warmth beckons seedlings to sprout, and the birds to sharpen their beaks gathering twigs for their nests.
Either way, the Maiden or the Crone know nothing of competing, they are sovereign in their own path, following the impulse of Equinox as it guides them in their sacred, ancient work.
And so it must be with us, Wild Ones, depending on where our feet may rest; we find our place in the inward or outward spiral of life. The moon is waning in Cancer, a sliver of receding promises as it hearkens toward dark on the 28th…a time of the sacred pause each month.
What shall we do to inhale the scent of change and shifting purpose?
One thing to remember is that we enter seasons just as nature does. And sometimes, surprisingly, we can have seasons within seasons. It is important to honor what is true for us, what is real and present. Have you ever noticed that you can be experiencing a cycle of winter (withdrawal, cold, scarcity, darkness) during an outwardly vibrant season while seemingly everyone else is hopping around birthing something new, or growing exponentially?
To be able to verbalize “I am in a season of winter right now,” for instance, becomes freeing as the acknowledgement creates space for an eventual spring. Nothing stays the same forever. We are always on the verge of transformation once we marinate long enough in the brine of our own growth.
An Equinox Journal for the Wild and Heathen
With the cloak of the Crone around your shoulders, find your proverbial feet in the rich forest soil, imagine the scent of mushrooms, moss, and ferns as you sink deeper into the darkness falling about you. Let yourself grow roots deep into the undergrowth, feel the comfort of the great mother as she supports you on your journey. Feel your contentment, maybe a little bit of sadness too, as you leave one sunny season and enter the moody weather of autumn.
Allow the mist on the mountains to take up all your worries and carry it away to the sea. Slow down. Slow down. Slow down. Breathe deep into your lungs. Let your exhale become the conveyor of ancient whispers…call upon Cerridwen, Persephone, or the Queen of Sovereignty—Morrigan. What is it you wish to say?
1. Gather all your gratitudes for the past season, what came to successful harvest?
2. Press into your memory bank the unexpected blessings that came your way. You may be surprised by how many there are!
3. What comfort do you find in the coming darkness—record the dreams you wish to incubate and nurture during autumn and winter? Dig deep beneath your skin, into the marrow of your bones. There is something within your cells that seeks acknowledgement and the kiss of your pen, as you scratch it to paper.
4. Call upon your ancestors. Let their ancient fingers point the way, listen to their wisdom, light candles for their safe passage from the other side. What can you add to your journal that comes from their murmurings?
5. Set your ear to the sound of decay…what do you wish to let go that is turning into compost, now that you have learned all there is to learn? Or, perhaps there is still a need for contemplation? Maybe winter will be the more appropriate season to cast those dry bones away!
You have been in silent meditation for a long, cool season, sitting by a fire of splintered branches. The sun is creatively causing you to shed those winter layers. The cellar is bare and you eye the early spring greens with salivating anticipation. Your nose delights in the fresh aroma of the tiniest flowers so eagerly stretching their faces to the promise of heat.
Slip your shoes off, step into the wet grass. Feel the rush of energy up your spine, the dragon waking and breathing renewed energy in the most gentlest of exhales. Open. Open, Open. Receive. Invite Freya, Brigid, and Eostre to attend your wakening, diaphanous gowns daring to incite the gods into rites of fertility. What have you to confess with a mouth stained by the promises of light?
1. Allow creativity to bubble! There is no need to force anything. Birth is the most natural process for you now. What has been on the back burner, simmering with intent, will now find its moment.
2. Open your heart to lovers, opportunities, new intentions…and soon the new moon in Cancer! Sow your seeds and water them well. This is the time for movement and purposeful action. Harness even your sexual energy, where desire meets expression in the physical world. You cannot be all spirit—you came to be human, after all.
3. Don’t be afraid to ask questions, seek mentors, and conspire with others to find the best places for planting your new crop of visions. Alone, we do well, together, we tap into the collective genius. Dream aloud. Gather a blanket and a thermos of herbal tea, lie on the ground and allow yourself to expand as you talk to the stars. You are of them, they understand.
4. There is a tree that awaits your tears. Perhaps there is something left over from another season with which you could water the roots? While you’re there, ground as you did in the autumn, down to the center of the Earth, and draw the plenitude all the way to your heart. Why not record the sound of those tears in your journal, the way they felt, the way they cleansed, the path they made for your resurrection. Rise, Wild One, rise.
5. Surrender to what lies ahead. You have done all you could do to prepare the ground. Now you plant with an outcome in mind. Fear is natural, so is success.
Equinox blessings, Wild Ones.
I’d love to hear your own Equinox traditions.