I celebrate
transition! Today marks the halfway point between summer and winter (the
solstices); it is the first day of autumn. Often, we do not see the small changes
in our lives except through the lenses of the past or the future. To note a
transition in the midst of it typically means the changes are a pretty big
deal! I have a dear acquaintance who is undergoing chemotherapy; my partner is
in the midst of a relocation that is taking nearly two months; a friend’s
mother is dying: these are the types of
transitions we tend to recognize because they bring us to the heart of the
major life change with all its challenges, fears, physical or emotional pain,
as well as the unseen blessings, if we can open to that part of the process. The
equinox is one of those transition times (between the seasonal extremes of
light/darkness, hot/cold, summer/winter) that does not get a lot of attention;
I imagine this is because it lands in the category of “the subtler changes”. The
equinox is, in its own “right”, a day to celebrate the oncoming autumn and to
mourn the loss of long summer days; it is its own rite (and deserving of the
rituals that demonstrate outward, tangible acknowledgment of that rite).
Perhaps it is because
autumn is my favorite season (except until spring comes, when I suddenly fall
in love all over again with the blooming world!): I have been noticing the small changes that
preceded today. Four weeks ago I made this journal entry:
That pre-fall chill was in the air this morning.
I guess I don’t have to pretend it’s almost here; the changes are evident. Yet,
the gloriousness of summer lingers in stubborn refusal saying: I was late to come but now am here, and I want to tarry just a little bit
longer. I love that about this time of
year; it is the perfect mix of both seasons, the ecotone between the two. There are bits of both – hot sunshine in the
peak of the day, cooler nights, the features of daylight and moon shine. The
clocks we’ll turn back, but not for another two and half months. In the
meantime, the light diminishes. It was still dark at five AM this morning and
by eight thirty PM last night. Still, that’s substantially more light than
we’ll be seeing when we change the clocks. I certainly do not want to spend any
more time wishing for a life other than this, or waiting for time to pass; it
is short, scarce, enough as it is. And because of this, it is precious. I
forget this so easily when I see the ants crawling out the gap between the wall
and the bathroom floor. I forget this when I am resentful. I forget this, too,
when someone displeases me or when I displease myself. I forget the
preciousness of life, the transitions, the beauty in the “right-now-ness”of my
experience; rushing around through my life, I forget, too.
As much as I long
for the changes autumn will bring, I do not want to forget today. The shifts will continue, heightening and
peaking when some quorum of trees decide all at once to flourish; to flame; to
ignite, in whoever will pay attention, the hearth of the heart. I will give
thanks when that moment comes, mostly because I was able to stop long enough to
honor that beauty in Nature’s instantaneous blaze.
I am sitting here today wearing a sundress on an unseasonably warm day. A friend just sent a text saying “Come see me! Making jam. Berries everywhere.” Many chores are demanding my attention this morning. Will I make it to the west side of the island to smell the sweet berries of my friend’s jam-making, to soak in what remains of summer – that which is being transformed into the foodstuffs of fall and winter? Will I take a few moments to feel the sun’s heat on my exposed arms and legs? Will I spare the minute it would take to watch a gray-white cloud transform its shape as it is blown across the sky? I do not see how I can resist. If even for a moment on the way to the next task, I will celebrate the transition of summer to autumn in these small ways.
All blog photographs taken by Jennifer J. Wilhoit unless otherwise noted.
