On the equinox the earth pauses in her long turning. For one breath of the year,
light and dark stand in equal measure. Day and night reach for one another across the sky,
a fleeting still point, a trembling cusp of change.
The hedgerows gleam with berries, apples fall sweet into the grass,
mushrooms rise like lanterns from damp earth, and the mornings taste of mist and woodsmoke.
This is a season of profound delight, the kind of richness that rests at the threshold of change.
And yet, beneath the radiance, the first threads of descent are stirring.
The equinox teaches us that balance is not perfection, but participation,
a willingness to stand where opposites meet and feel the tension as part of life’s rhythm.
To live well is to stand in the brilliance of what is, to gather the sweetness of the season,
to let its radiance move through you, and at the same time to bow toward what is coming.
It asks us to recognise that descent is not only an ending, but a necessary ripening.
That shadow is not the absence of light, but the soil where roots deepen.
That within us, too, the seasons turn, and balance is found not in holding still,
but in allowing the whole cycle to belong.
~Brigit McNeil
may I linger in the slow days….
inquiry for today~ this is your time- always was…
dawn, the zendo silent
fragrance of curling incense
nothing else, nothing
~Joan Halifax
Make Believe Boutique 