On the Eve of Autumn

When I left home yesterday morning to travel away from these beloved mountains, the Cottage was wrapped in a gray and white comforter of dense fog. I first slid into it when I went out to tend the chickens and do morning garden patrol with Hank. The world becomes a living watercolor painting in these moments; vivid and soft, welcoming and haunting, cozy, safe, and holding a little hint of danger. 

"Don't go," the Fog said. "Have a lie in. Wrap yourself up like a fox in the dewy grass and explore the worlds inside your mind. Stay here with me." 

The invitation was tempting, truth be told. Had yesterday's adventure been mine alone I might have accepted; at least not physically traveled beyond the borders of the Cottage proper, anyway. There are worlds within worlds upon worlds to be explored right here. Sigh. Other days and times, perhaps. Adventure called, and I had to go. 

The Cottage is only two-tenths of a mile from the Swannanoa River, and my travel partner suggested that the fog would lift once we were away from the water. By the time I was driving across the I40 overpass, I knew that the river wasn't the source of the fog. And what I thought would be left behind after a wee bit of driving stayed with us for nearly 100 miles. Thanks to headphones and sleepy people, I spent most of that time on my own, musing about the mysteries of nature and people and how sometimes the nature of people doesn't seem natural at all. 

A few miles east of the Town of Black Mountain, I-40 climbs up Old Fort Mountain in a steep, winding route. The fog was so heavy in some spots I could see the road but not the surrounding landscape. Then the coolest thing happened. I drove around a curve and the fog ahead was backlit by the sun, creating a tunnel of light that appeared slightly above the horizon line. That tunnel appeared and disappeared as the road twisted and climbed, but every time it came back into view it was larger and brighter. 

(Side quest: The irreverent child within me heard clips from Poltergeist loud and clear: "Do *not* go into the light. Stop where you are. Turn away from it. Don't even look at it." But then, of course, once the truth of what was happening was understood, contradictory Tangina said, "Run to the light, Carol Anne!"

Right? There I was, having this beautiful experience of the Mysteries, and my brain did that thing. That's the way it should be, though, as expressed in one of my favorite lines from Doreen Valiente's Charge of the Goddess: "And therefore let there be beauty and strength, power and compassion, honour and humility, mirth and reverence within you." I don't know about all of that, but most of it is housed in this sometimes wonky being of me. END of side quest.)

As I neared the top of the mountain I expected the light to have dissolved the fog on the other side, but it hadn't. I didn't disappear into the light, or fall through a portal. I simply spent the next two hours singing along to one of my favorite playlists while I mused about people, mysteries, and myself. Sometimes the songs coincided with my musing, other times they took me in new directions. It was a beautiful day for a good drive, and a good way to spend the day before the day before Autumn. 

I woke this morning to sweet, cool air and another heavy fog. I spent more time in the garden than yesterday, observing, feeling, and just being present. I can feel the shift as the Equinox approaches and the Wheel turns the world into Autumn. There is an air of calm excitement mixed with the knowledge that preparations for the dark days must continue. There is so much work to be done. 

Although it is normal to have foggy mornings at this time of year, I believe these two were a particular notice to me to be mindful of the Mysteries in the days ahead. My life has seen big changes over the last few months, and to be sure, there are more to come. Tomorrow I shall do a bit of work to help make sure I maintain my balance through what lies ahead. 

Blessed Autumn, my friends. May you find your balance and your blessings equally in the light and darkness on the Equinox, and enjoy the abundance of your harvest. 

Love and Peace from Bear Path Cottage

The Autumn Equinox - Balance in All Things

I am an intuitive person, and as a writer and a spiritual practitioner I have long embraced that aspect of myself. Intuition carries me to the deepest, most magical, brightest, darkest places of thought and emotion and connection in my life. It connects me to my muses, to my Divines, to the people and places I most love. It is my strongest protection, the internal compass that guides me along paths both troubled and happy.

Somehow, in the past year, I have been living Harry Dresden moments. Somehow, in the past year, some Thing dropped a rock wall between my Spirit/Mind and my Intuition. Somehow, despite the hours of therapy and hours of consult and hours of conversation with friends, I could not see that rock wall. It has been crumbling for a while, and occasionally the light breaks through, but I just didn’t realize that it was there. (Side note to catch you up if you need it: No Dresden spoilers here, if you haven’t read the books yet, but the rock wall dropping Thing in my life was simply the ultimate realization of Grief.)

Not long after I woke this morning, I went out on the porch to greet the rising Sun on this holy day of Mabon, the Autumn Equinox. I closed my eyes and lifted my face to the warm touch of sunlight, relaxing into a soft meditation. When I opened my eyes again the first thing I noticed was the shining little rows of dewdrops lining the porch railing. My eyes moved from there to the row of sunflowers in front of me, and I noticed how brilliant their color is with the morning sun shining through them. I saw the dew glistening on their leaves, and then I noticed the same with the tall standing corn. Those long green leaves were covered with dew, and as my eyes moved up the stalks, I saw dew drops on the tips of the silks, and even on the tassels.

I was simply enjoying this visual nature show at face value, which would have been a marvelous start to my day. Then the bird chorus started their song, singing the Sun into the sky with their rising chorus. My ears woke up then, and I heard the oddest background rhythm; it was the steady plink, plink, plink sound of dripping water. I wondered if the hose was leaking, and as I stood to look over the edge of railing into the South yard, the rain chain caught my attention.

The dew this morning was so heavy that it was pooling in the flower-shaped cups of the rain chain. I sat back down and watched with delight as fat, round droplets of water ran down the copper lines of the chain, catching diamond points of light from the Sun.

It was magical. It was magical and it woke something inside me; it pushed another section of that rock wall over and next thing I knew I was inside getting a bottle to harvest the Equinox dew. I tried catching it out of the copper cups but just couldn’t get it. My eyes wandered back to the broad, smooth surface of the corn stalk leaves, and then the rest of me wandered that way as well, down the steps and around the corner until I was standing in front of the corn. I did manage to get a few drops of dew into the bottle, but I knew in that moment that was not really what I was supposed to be doing and I put the bottle into my pocket.

My feet were on the Earth on this Holy Day. I closed my eyes and grounded myself deeply, until I felt the roots of my being mingling with the roots of the corn, and the roots of the sunflowers, and the roots of the Loblolly Pine standing tall in the yard. I used my hands to gather the dew from the leaves of the corn plant, and as I did that a soft breeze went by. A favorite ritual song played through my mind in that moment, and I smiled. Earth my body…Water my blood…Air my breath and Fire my spirit. The corn tassels are tall above me, so I was looking at the Sun through those waving tresses as I raised my eyes to the light once more. I washed my face in the Mabon dew; not seeking beauty as one does with the May but washing myself with Balance as I move into the introspective time that lies ahead.

Autumn has been my favorite season for as long as I can remember, but in the last years of my daughter’s life every Autumn came with a sense of foreboding. This year the ghost of that dread is finally gone; those shadows laid to rest. This year every leaf that I watch fall will represent a healthy letting go; the normal cycle of life and death, beginnings and endings. I am ready to immerse myself in the work of these darkling days, holding a sense of peace rather than uncertainty.

The harvest continues in earnest; gathering in that which is ripe and full, and storing aspects for the future. The days ahead are a time for introspection and preparation for growth. Take with you what you need and leave behind that which no longer sustains you. It is a fine balance point, methinks, to learn that once we let go of something it still serves a purpose. Food for the fish. Mulch for own personal growth. Leaves on the ground; stalks in the field - it all serves to nourish the body eventually.

Do something you love. Spend time in a favorite place. Try something new. Learn something new. Adventure under the sun. Adventure by the light of the stars. Howl at the moon. Let the Autumn sunlight kiss your face. Create something. Let go of something. Shatter something that no longer adds value to your life. Spend time with people who make you happy. Deepen your relationship with your Divine. Take time to share a meal with others. Share kindness with strangers. Share kindness with yourself.

Be fully present in your life.

I can hear the busy chirping calls of the Golden Finches as they enjoy the harvest of sunflower seeds in the front gardens. Another smile in my day. Time for me to step away from my desk and continue to be present in other areas of my life.

Blessed Mabon, my friends. May you find your blessings equally in the light and darkness on this Autumn Equinox.