Autumn Equinox 2021: Finding Balance Within

Fall equinox arrives in the Northern Hemisphere on September 22 at 12:21 PM PDT.

This moment, when day and night are of equal length before the northern pole tilts away from the sun once more, often brings with it a calming pause, a sense of balance that is welcome after the heat of the summer. Balance is the essence of equinox and reflects the signature energy of Libra, the sign in which the northern fall equinox occurs.

But finding balance this time around may not come easily. The energies in our cosmos that have been animating conflict and dissension persist. In the world around us we witness no shortage of power struggles. These may ultimately lead to transformation, but for that transformation to be a true evolution and not just a rehash of who wields power over whom, requires conscious intention.

We humans may feel inspired by higher-level concepts, but the primacy and potency of our survival instincts are on full display wherever we look. To move beyond that reflexive way of living requires something more. The question is: what is sacred to us and how do we chart our path forward?

The true power struggle in these times resides within: To feel what we feel and not be controlled by it is essential. Rather, by staying connected to our higher self, we allow new possibilities unlimited by the mindset of winning (at any cost) versus losing, to emerge. What will emerge we cannot know, because it will be co-created in relationship with others who are also looking for a new way forward.

May this equinox inspire us to honor the higher self, and to seek and find the balance and resilience needed to serve the greater, sacred life of which we are a part.

In her poem, Mary Oliver speaks with sparkling eloquence of that sacredness, of aliveness itself.

The Alligator

I knelt down

at the edge of the water,

and if the white birds standing

in the tops of the trees whistled any warning

I didn't understand,

I drank up to the very moment it came

crashing toward me,

its tail flailing

like a bundle of swords,

slashing the grass,

and the inside of its cradle-shaped mouth

gaping,

and rimmed with teeth—

and that's how I almost died

of foolishness

in beautiful Florida.

But I didn't.

I leaped aside, and fell,

and it streamed past me, crushing everything in its path

as it swept down to the water

and threw itself in,

and, in the end,

this isn't a poem about foolishness

but about how I rose from the ground and saw the world as if for the second time,

the way it really is.

The water, that circle of shattered glass,

healed itself with a slow whisper

and lay back

with the back-lit light of polished steel,

and the birds, in the endless waterfalls of the trees,

shook open the snowy pleats of their wings, and drifted away

while, for a keepsake, and to steady myself,

I reached out,

I picked the wild flowers from the grass around me--

blue stars

and blood-red trumpets

on long green stems--

for hours in my trembling hands they glittered

like fire.

-Mary Oliver