So much has happened, so many impressions in the space of one day. I’m sitting at the kitchen table, on this late Sunday morning. Outside its started snowing, tiny specks on the wind. It’s such a change from yesterday, which was sunny, not a cloud in sight. Spring was singing its beautiful song, loud and clear, and it was also the Equinox. It felt like a gift.
I will write more about it soon, about watching the sunrise, as well as my trip to an ancient stone circle a couple of hours away, – a mysterious place that no one knows much about. For now I feel like resting, let the impressions settle, so that I can later put words to everything that has happened.
On a different note I’d like to share some clips form a movie that I first watched many years ago, but that still brings a sense of magic and wonder whenever I see it, – The Voyage of the Unicorn.
I’m sitting on the step outside, listening to the evening, the little stream, the birds, the rush of the water fall across the lake. Tomorrow is the spring equinox. I will get up early to greet the sun, wearing white, praying. I feel hope for what is coming, for new things, for the light returning.
After going back inside I keep my window open, so that I can hear the song of that one bird, that seems to only sing in the early morning and evening, – those moments of in-between. I will just sit for a bit, and listen.
Today felt like a day outside time. It moved along so slowly, perhaps because I got up early, and wasn’t very tired. It felt like a soft, quiet day, with a grey, overcast sky. But there was a light behind the clouds that made me gaze at them in wonder, feeling that I was drinking in beauty.
I bought myself deep pink roses, that reminds me of kisses. I made myself a white pillar candle in honor of the spring equinox, and of the solar eclipse, and let it burn throughout the day.
With the eclipse happening I felt the energizes changing, the sky darkening. Something told me to stop what I was doing and just sit, to be in that special, long moment. So I did, feeling slightly agitated inside, but happy to relax for a little bit. I could see my anxiety, tiny flutters in my stomach, and I managed to ease it a little. I softened into myself.
My husband I had a moment together outside, as the eclipse was at its darkest. It felt like the beginning of twilight. We held hands, watching the sky, the lake, the mountains. Two eagles circle far overhead, and we could hear their cries. It sounded like one was calling the other. It felt like their cries carried some secret meaning. Perhaps they felt something happening.
We went back inside, and watched the light returning. I could see the sun shining on the other side of the water, and I sat down for another moment, just taking it all in.
The sun is up, though it still feels a bit dark, the sky heavy with clouds, mist floating across the treetops. I hear birds singing quietly, and somehow their voices seem even sweeter than the chorus of spring and summer. Winter is cold and dark, and the little light there is feels precious. There is a certain beauty to the sleeping world, and to going within, resting, reflecting on what is important, on what we’ve been through and what we dream will be.
The Winter Solstice
I celebrated The Winter Solstice in Greece, with friends. We met long before sunrise, having some way to go to reach the beach, and I felt a sacredness in the air, a need to be very quiet, to not disturb that special feeling that permeated everything. It felt as though the world was holding its breath, waiting for something very special and sacred; – the return of the light.
We reached the beach where we had made a circle of stones in the sand; – grey, brown and white. We put on our special robes, lit the incense and waited for the sun. We sang, our gaze on the horizon, yearning for the suns warmth in the cold of the morning.
It was very special for me, to see the that ball of fire rise out of the ocean. I live by mountains, and by the time I see the sun it is fully born, yellow and bright. But as it came out of the waters, I could look at it fully, admire its beauty as it slowly rose into the sky, growing more and more brilliant until I had to advert my gaze, and close my eyes.
We stayed on the beach for a long time, reflecting on things in our own way. I felt filled with those special energies of the Solstice, and with a touch of love, as though the divine was very close. It was a turning point for me, as the Solstices and Equinoxes always seem to be, a time of new lessons, new things to learn, and in all that beauty and joy, there were also painful feelings, wounds that needed to heal.
I feel very grateful to having been allowed to visit that special place, and to remember how much I love the sun, how bright and beautiful it is, and how it changes everything, the world without and within, how it brightens my mood and makes me want to sit outside for a long time, just watching the light on the trees, on the grass.
Sometimes I need to get away to be able to reflect and see things more clearly. Now that I’m back I want to do things a little differently for the new year. It’s good to be home, though some challenges were there waiting for me, as I knew they would be. But I feel more eager to tackle them now.
I see glittering lights in white trees, tiny birds jumping between branches, dancing in the morning air. There is silence. Nothing moving, nothing stirring; no leaf, grass, or water. Only those birds, and the rain dripping from the roof.
The mist floats above the tree tops, green tops reaching into a white sky, the lake mirroring a forest and dark mountains, the trees mostly naked, waiting for the coming winter.
The world is holding it’s breath, at the entrance of winter, at the entrance of a deep darkness that will swallow everything, leaving it in a blanket of white, sleeping, resting, waiting.
The Solstice is coming, like a soft glow upon a frozen earth. A light in the darkness, people lighting their candles, flames flickering in window sills. A gathering magic, a mystical force that dips into the forest, even into the city streets. Something in us remembers, remembers the light, and in the silence, it enters our hearts.
Now that summer is nearing an end, I want to look back, first at the summer solstice, which is such a brilliant, magical time that I feel sad I haven’t written about it until now.
I spent the Solstice in Greece this year, and I remember the pink sky in the morning, when I stood watching for some time, shivering in the cold.
I was among friends, and we slowly gathered together in silence, watching the peak of the mountain, where the sun would rise.
It has been raining on and off for days, each bringing with it rolls of thunder, strong winds and lightning; but this morning were were given a break from all of that, and the sky cleared for us to watch the sunrise. It felt like a gift.
I was tired, cold, and waiting, waited longingly for the warmth of the sun. I felt I was swaying in place from lack of sleep, while gazing hopefully at the mountain, listing to the first birds singing.
The first warm rays on my face was bliss; warming me after standing in the cold for so long. Then I watched the sun slowly rise, like a red ball of fire, into the sky until it became too bright to follow with my eyes.
I closed my eyes and soaked in the warmth of the sun.
I drank in the golden energies of the morning. The Solstice always has a special feel to it, and already under the stars the night before I could feel it.
It also comes with a shift, a change, both inside and outside myself. Somehow circumstances around that time points out what I need to do differently, what I long for, and how to focus on what truly matters to me. This seem to happen with all the Solstices and Equinoxes.
Below is a video, nicely explaining the celebration of these special times of year.
How did you celebrate the Solstice? Will you do something special for the Autumn Equinox? I’d love to know!
Before dawn I went with my husband into the forest. We walked for a while in silence, and well hidden among the trees we slipped on white robes with golden sashes. Then we faced the direction of the sun, knowing we would not be able to see it because of the heavy clouds; yet still the morning brightened around us.
We sang a few mantras together and just contemplated the forest for a while. I began to feel dizzy and we sat down.
I opened myself up. For a moment I thought I could perceive golden rays of energy shimmering on the trees, the moss, on everything around me. Then they were white. White and gold together, coming down from the sky and touching every little thing that I could see. I was amazed. I wasn’t sure if I was imagining it.
I sat soaking it all in for a while. I remember the stream, the soft moss at my feet, the sound of birds.
Eventually we slipped out of our robes, put our heavy jackets back on and returned home. We were both tired and fell asleep on the couch for a few hours. Then I spent some time reading while he continued to rest.
Did you do anything special for the Equinox? Is there any way you would have loved to spend it?
I want to feel love. I want there to be only me and my divine mother. I want to feel nature around me, to feel what can’t be seen and to nourish myself on beauty.
I made myself chai tea. The air is still sweet with milk and spice. I enjoy adding the ingredients one by one, cinnamon, clove, cardamom, ginger.
I have a jar of wild rose honey that I made last summer. I’m waiting for my tea to cool a bit before adding a teaspoon of it, perhaps a bit more. Something in me wants to cry a little. I think of a warm summers day by the ocean, fat bumblebees buzzing, pink roses moving in the wind.
I feel like I captured love in a jar. Of all the herbal medicines I’ve come across, this is to me the most powerful, the one I make every year. My heart needs it, my bruised soul longs for it. I’ve been stressed lately, wanting everything to be perfect for the Spring Equinox, and just in general putting a lot of pressure on myself to get it all done. I feel hard like ice inside, and I long to melt into the sweetness of rose and honey.
With the coming of the Spring Equinox, I feel there is a new lesson for me; to flow with life and not demand things to be perfect. Love and beauty is more important than clean windows. True, I did want to do a thorough spring cleaning, but it’s more important to be present, to soak in those special energies of the Equinox.
I’m drawn outside, into the forest, to walk among trees and to sit on mossy rocks. Look at things, those little details that make up life, the slow drifting of clouds. Even there I can feel stressed, but I allow myself to feel it and it begins to melt away. The Goddess is close to me there. I can feel her in my heart behind all my worries and doubts. She reminds me that love is most important.