Autumn Equinox, a Stillpoint
/“What lies behind you and what lies in front of you, pales in comparison to what lies inside of you.”
– Ralph Waldo Emerson
The word “equinox” comes from the Latin aequus, meaning “equal,” and nox, meaning “night.” On the equinox, day and night are roughly equal in length. As the Sun crosses what is called the “celestial equator”—an imaginary extension of Earth’s equator line into space, it is precisely at the moment when the Sun’s center passes through this line, that we consider it to be the equinox. When the Sun crosses the equator from south to north this marks the spring equinox; and when it crosses from north to south, this marks the autumnal equinox…
Today in the northern hemisphere we observe the beginning of fall, we acknowledge the end of summer, and we celebrate the autumn equinox. During this celestial moment, when we might take time out from our day, to pause and reflect, I offer up a poem that I began to write last Friday evening, in anticipation of the equinox, and since then, the poem has transformed of its own accord, in response to the news of the past few days. Here it is:
A Poem For The Equinox, A Stillpoint…
Last Friday, as I gazed out my open windows into the glistening autumn afternoon,
dusty glass portals open once again to the clear California air and sunshine,
windows that had been sealed shut for days against smoke and ash and other,
now blessedly open to a garden space, whose leaves shimmered in gilded light,
feelings of deep gratitude emerged on this particular day of awe and brightness,
this time of the Virgo new moon, a potent moment for new visions, dreams, attention,
a time for pausing and planting seeds of intention, for this next turn of the wheel.
Last Friday, at sunset, marked the start of the Jewish New Year,
Rosh Hashanah is the first day of the High Holy Days in the Jewish calendar,
the beginning of the ten Days of Awe,as one year cycles to a close and another begins,
and although I am not a religious, nor practicing Jew, I am aware of this time of year,
particularly because of a deluge of emails from distant cousins, living far and near,
most of whom I’ve never met and likely never will, cousins discovered via genealogy,
these kin who send each other blessings and well wishes of “L'shana tova”...
My grandmother Rose, who I called Gramme,(“Gram-me”) emigrated to New York City,
at the age of ten, in 1910, the youngest of ten siblings, the cherished baby of the brood,
traveling to the other side of the world, a grueling sea voyage, with sisters and mother,
following in the wake of their brothers and father, who had already left Belarus,
gone ahead to seed a new life amongst other refugees, fleeing Russia and Poland,
escaping pogroms, recreating shetls on the lower east side of Manhattan or in Brooklyn,
my cousins who now email me on Jewish holidays, descendants of Gramme’s siblings,
we who have found one another, following the breadcrumbs of our shared genealogy.
Last Friday, on Rosh Hashanah, as I was anticipating the upcoming autumn equinox,
a celestial equator moment, when day and night are relatively equal in length,
and because the fall equinox falls on my own personal half birthday,
a synchronicity that feels like a curious invitation to my own honorary equinox,
a stillpoint, when my own soul might pause for reflection, and deep listening within,
and as Emerson aptly says,“What lies behind you and what lies in front of you,
pales in comparison to what lies inside of you.”
But last Friday, on the eve of Rosh Hashanah, as the Days of Awe began in earnest,
my youngest son texted to say that Ruth Bader Ginsburg had just passed away,
shock and grief and awe at this news, just as Jews the world over began to worship,
felt so personal, visceral, cellular, and also utterly and universally heartbreaking.
This daughter of Brooklyn, this woman who attended the same high school as my mom,
whose ancestors, like my own, had also emigrated from the old country,
RBG, the first Jewish woman to sit on the Supreme Court, embodied grit and grace,
dignity and humanity, humour and integrity, a bright light who will be deeply missed.
This time of year, the new moon, Rosh Hashanah, Days of Awe, Autumn Equinox,
are all invitations to reflect, to contemplate, and to repent if one chooses,
renewing one’s self through a soul review, while envisioning a wholesome new horizon,
a potent time when we might release the past with forgiveness,
and welcome the future, without any need to know precisely what lies ahead,
and if “what lies behind us and what lies in front of us, pales in comparison,
to what lies inside”, then it is well that we each pause, get still, and breathe,
backed and balanced by the ballast of the autumn equinox.
