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Reflections and Rituals for the Autumnal Equinox

joys and sorrows. As the equinox approaches, the possibilities of beauty twinkle in the fading summer light—present still, but certainly mixed with the tragic loss of burning wilderness, parched farmland, and increased numbers of COVID cases.

Much of this year has centered on letting my body exist in the world with trepidation and care. I started teaching last week, and I found myself confronted with sixty students whose last thought was whether their mask was covering their nose. This was their first week away from the familiarity of home. My task is to teach these students about writing and composition—where do we even start when the tasks of writing seem so far away from our bodies? First, we must talk about care. Before we can begin the task of writing about our bodies in the world, we must first think about what it means to care for our bodies. This is the greatest task of the writing classroom, and to say it has been amplified during the pandemic is a gross understatement.

My own body has felt unbearably heavy, in both a metaphysical and literal sense. Depression lives in the body. In March, April, and May, I was energized by the tasks of finishing my dissertation and planning a new job. I pushed my body to do extraordinary things in isolation, and I was genuinely very happy with my preoccupation. Now that the dust has settled and I have time to look around, the weight of the year ’ s work is bearing down on my muscles. Even simple tasks seem to take up all my energy. When the world begins to quiet during autumn months and the twilight deepens, I feel the nearness of new energy. It is a vitality that I anticipate with a deep joy. When the summer heat dies down somewhat, I feel my body start to long for movement. I yearn for the rush of cold air ripping through my lungs as I run. I can feel my blood start to circulate with new force as I expand and move through the world with autumn ’ s energy. Pay attention to the soft shifts in energy that come with the autumn equinox. Let this be a time for you to embrace the vitality that is so wholly yours. The universe can be seen in one liminal moment of exposure. It can be felt in the bluest moment of your body pressing against the cold. And it is your business to keep it, to embrace it, and to move with it. When there is an opening in the twilight hours of summer, take it. Don ’t brush past the pain you carried this year. Let your body move with the vitality that is inextricably your own. No one else can create or care for the constellations that make up your body, your feeling, and your movement. Cherish the universe that exists in your bones.

During a recent long, grueling run in the forest, I came across a biker stopped by the side of the trail adjusting something on his tire. Before thoughts of my aloneness clattered into my brain, we made eyecontact and he held my gaze for a moment then simply said, “Are you all right?” There was no accusation or assumption in his tone, no mark of antagonism or even weariness of strangers—a bright, clear concern for what I was doing extended through his words toward my accelerated state of being. His small question shot through me, and I paused to say, “Yes. Yes, I think I am okay. You?” He smiled and raised a single fist in the air to signal that he, too, was okay. I turned back to the trail and carried myself back through the well-traveled paths of my being, and in that moment with the sun on the lake, I felt honest, whole, and all right.

My hope for you, reader, is to place you exactly here. Where there is no past or future. Where everything that we know of life, love, and death are wrapped into one infinite moment. The place of “ now ” with no beginnings and no ends. In the closing section, I offer some simple rituals that can be performed at the time of equinox as a method of welcoming healing and preserving peace on the threshold of change.

The Harvest Moon: Rituals for Healing and Preserving

The autumnal equinox is also associated with the Harvest Moon, a moon cycle that makes it possible for farmers to have extra time for harvesting. The Old Farmer ’ s Almanac explains this phenomenon: “Normally, the Moon rises about an hour later each night, but around the time of the fall equinox, the angle of the Moon ’ s orbit and the tilt of the Earth line up just right and cause the Moon to rise only about 20 to 30 minutes later each night for several nights in a row ” (almanac.com). With the moon rising earlier in the evening, farmers are provided “ extra daylight” hours to harvest crops before winter sets in. Also, according to old folklore, frost that occurs in darkness will kill any buds or crops, but frost that occurs under moonlight will not, making the Harvest Moon very important for the preservation of crops as cold weather approaches. As the time for the Harvest Moon cycle draws near, I encourage you to think about ways you might take advantage of the early moonlight and reserve that time for reflection on and gratitude for the harvests of this year. Practicing rituals designed for personal healing and growth might seem trivial when the world is in chaos from a raging pandemic, dying crops, and increasing social inequities. At the same time, the mundane events of our everyday lives do affect the social conglomerate. Much of the change that we dream of seeing in our lifetimes originates from a need to slow down, stop over-consuming, and learn how to dwell with the earth and with each other in more meaningful ways.

Of course, we could wait for a more opportune moment to develop practices of gratitude and reflection, but we would be waiting a very long time. To whatever extent possible, even if you find yourself incredibly busy or weighed down, developing some rituals for reflection and gratitude can open avenues for healing in big and small ways. I believe it is also vital for me to acknowledge that, practically speaking, not everyone has the space to dedicate time or energy to meditative practice. There are large inequities in our systems of labor that render quiet time virtually impossible for some, but the reflection rituals that I will share here are simple practices that you can perform in a few minutes and with relative ease. I’ ve organized these rituals around the crystals dedicated to the autumnal equinox: topaz, amber, and lapis lazuli. You do not need to have crystals to practice these rituals, but if you have them on hand feel free to place them in positions nearby.

Topaz: healing, stimulation, alignment

For this meditation, write a list or hold in your mind three areas of your life where

you seek healing. Practice breathing in for four seconds, holding for five, and then releasing for four seconds. As you release your breath, observe your thoughts about one area where you seek healing. Let go of any thought patterns that are not leading you into alignment with your body as you dwell on this area of your life. Repeat this practice for every item on your list.

Amber: relieves stress, promotes creativity

Find a quiet place (preferably outdoors) and lie on your back with your feet outstretched. Close your eyes and place your hands on your stomach or near your heart. What do you feel in your body? Focus on relaxing the muscles in your neck, then your shoulders, down to your back, and eventually your legs, and finally feet. Rest here for several minutes. Let your imagination roam. Follow ideas that spark your curiosity. Consider the harmony at play between your body, spirit, and mind. Thank your body for the unnoticed work of nurturing, protecting, and healing. When you are finished, take a minute or two to write down some of the thoughts that arose as you let your muscles relax.

Lapis Lazuli: Compassion, peace, harmony

For this ritual, you will need water. You can either find a secluded lake to put your feet in or simply fill a bowl with water. Light a candle (if you have one on hand) and put on a quiet song that you enjoy. (I recommend the song “Shallows ” by Daughter). Once you have everything set up, place your hands (and/or feet) into the water and think about how your skin feels against the element. Center your thoughts on what you feel in your body for several seconds. Listen to your breath and ease into the experience. For three to five minutes, meditate on experiences that have made you feel loved and cared for this year. These can be experiences you ’ ve had with others or times that you have dedicated to caring for yourself. Hold these in your mind and think about the harmony and continuity of the water against your skin. Remind yourself of your capacity to love. Holding these thoughts in your mind, contemplate ways you can extend that love toward others.

This is your harvest. Experiencing and sharing compassion with yourself and others as the twilight deepens into night and the world settles into the quiet of winter is significant work. Be present for the equinox, the suspension of time and light, that is happening around and within you. Let it sink deep into your being, down to your bones. And continue to extend harmony as best you can to those around you.

References

Gleeson, Sinéad. “Fragmented Narratives Are

Broken, Independent, and Honest. ”

LitHub. 2020. Hamilton, Edith. Mythology. Little, Brown and

Company, 1942.

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