Ch-ch-ch-ch-changes, Autumn Equinox Musings
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This morning all of a sudden it felt like fall, cool temperatures, a crispness to the air absent just one day before. Convenient, since today is the Autumn Equinox, the first day of fall.
A dear friend and I seem to find each other on these days of transition- the new year, a birthday, solstice, equinox. Tonight she will come to my house and together we will usher in the autumn season of release and harvest. Our time together is always sacred. I expect tonight will bring delight, opening, depth, and the relief of being seeing and loved in the fullness and complexities, the strengths and limitations, of who we are.
As I write, a song that just found me, Amos Lee’s Worry No More is playing on repeat. I heard it the first time just a few days ago as I prepared to create a heart sketch for a friend whose practice is to receive a heart sketch each season. When I heard the song that day, I knew it was for her. I didn’t know why, but trusted it to be true.
The chorus is “Worry no more, oooh, worry no more, there’s an open door for you.”
Today I know the song is for me. Before sitting down to write, I started listening to it, singing and jumping around, arms hanging loosely, flailing as loose-hanging things being tossed about do. I felt the rhythm in my whole body. When the song ended, I started it again. Listening, singing, jumping, arms flailing. I laughed from the joy of releasing long-held energy stuffed in my body to the point of pain. Stress, tension, grief, anger, frustration, some of which I’ve accumulated and held in my body for days, weeks, months, maybe longer, I let go with much less effort than it’s taken to hold it all in. I feel lighter.
As I write, my body now still, I continue to play the song over and over. I feel an openness in my heart space.
The last few months have not been easy. Family members have had significant health issues. I have experienced loss and disappointment. I’ve had difficult and delicate conversations and held space for others while together we experience the expansion and constriction of hope as COVID has adapted and made its way through more bodies, more hospitals, more communities, more countries- more sickness, more death. The expansion and constriction of hope as all the -isms have adapted and made their way through more bodies, more communities, more countries- more harm, more death. So many people are suffering as systems fail, as needed resources are available only to some and inaccessible to too many others. So many people, whether materially resourced or not, are finding themselves exhausted, holding stress, tension, grief, anger, and frustration because we are still in the middle of global crisis. Space, time, and safety to move through it all seems, and for some actually is, out of reach.
I see the world changing around me, through me, within me. I feel the changes inside my being. I get glimpses of clarity. I spend a lot of time in Unknowing. We are in a time of Unknowing.
I am grateful because I have access to people and resources who help me stay grounded in ungrounding times. I’ve been trying to use what I have to do the inner work of growth and self-care and contribute the outer work of tending and caring for others. Sometimes I meet my lofty aspirations toward love and care. Many times I fall short.
What feels beautiful is that I am learning to take the falling short less personally. I am letting go of the judgments that tell me my worth is based on if that class happens or is cancelled, if I say the right thing at the right time or not, if that man wants to date me or just thinks I’m a “great lady” he wants to be friends with (side note: I do not like being called a “lady” by men; there is a sense of diminishment or weakness to the word; the word “woman” feels much stronger and more embodied). I am rooting and growing into the reality, true of me and you, that our worth and enough-ness is bound only to the fact that we exist. This felt reality is beginning to bare fruit within and through me. It feels both exciting and steadying through the Unknowing.
Autumn is a time of release and a time of harvest. A time of ch-ch-ch-ch-changes within the ongoing cycles of change (I’m also linking here to Mercedes Sosa’s song Todo Cambia, which means “everything changes”; it’s beautiful in melody and lyrics).
Letting go is not always easy or comfortable. If you’d seen me yesterday, you’d have witnessed me holding tight to ideas ready to be released. I wasn’t quite ready to let go. Today I dance and shake them off.
Waiting for the ripening of what’s been growing may bring both impatience and excitement. Yesterday I wanted to rush through the pain of growth and expansion. Today I open myself to the slow ripening. I feel the anticipation of knowing more fully what is growing inside me. I wonder what will ultimately come from me that will nourish not just me, but also be fruit to share with others. I trust that it’s already happening. I can feel it. Do you?
In honor of this day signifying the turn toward release and harvest, I invite you, too, to notice what is happening in and around you:
How do you experience autumn?
What are you shedding or do you want to shed?
Are there things you are scared, hesitant, or not ready to release?
What is ripening within you?
What is bearing fruit in or around you?
In an hour or so my friend will arrive. I will offer an open heart-door for her and she for me. In our hours together we will release worry, even if only momentarily. We will honor the changes: mourn what is to be mourned and celebrate what is to be celebrated. I wish you an equally blessed transition to autumn.