Equinox

Autumn arrives in a waltz of frosted skirts and cloudy veils, chilling the night air as it grins with constellations and stars. Though it seems busyness for the human lifestyle is never-ending, life in nature is beginning to slow down and let go.

Leaves turn myriads of colours, rattled down from their branches in stiff winds. Perennials – flowers, herbs, grasses, trees – seemingly wilt into brown stalks, holding their resilient yet fragile life in their roots and retreating into the depths of the earth. Slowing down and letting go: these are the arias of autumn.

Water embodies this message, surrendering to the ice and snow that arrives later in the year. But it also still resiliently carries on, rivers rushing and creeks flowing relentlessly. in holds life in its liquid body, carrying beings on to their next destination, providing food and nutrients for the willow and cottonwood and many other interconnected life forms.

Water also offers reflection. I’ve been finding myself drawn towards water lately, whether through canoeing, swimming, paddle-boarding, or simply admiring its beauty. The rhythm water holds is an easy pattern to fall into – paddle strokes, limbs slicing through the wet to keep afloat, eyes on the current, a misty splashing highway that cuts through land and earth. It offers time to think and ruminate.

This equinox holds the ever-resounding message of slowing down and letting go; in letting go, there is following the path, going with the flow. Though not an easy thing to do, letting the river take one on its wild course is an act of trust and courage, and sometimes it is all we can manage – to go with the flow, one current at a time.