The Morning of Autumn
Do I begin from a place of balance?
Shall I begin from a place of balance?
Soâ€¦ where is this famous place of balance?
Equal night, equal day, harvest – yes!
These I understand, these I celebrate, these I am deeply grateful for!
I canâ€™t claim to begin from balance, stillness, all-in-order.
But I can begin from a place of deep gratitude. Here it is:
Thank you, beloved Great Spirit.
Simply thank you.
Always thank you.
I am grateful for this harvest, this privilege, this wealth in my life
I am humbled by the crisp of the apple and its juice, sweet, tart.
I weep with joy that there is food to give my family.
If I slice it one way, I see the star;
if I slice it another way, a quarter moon.
If I come upon Apple in the woods,
some last sisters of an orchard hanging on with sass and spunk
long after the farmhouse has gone to nothing but stone foundation
then I relish the bite and hard and small of feisty survivor apples
and know that my feast is shared with you,
with the Antlered One
with The Wild Family.
From apple to wonder to looking into liquid eyes unfathomable
which say that winter is coming.
Does it always come down to that?
I think it must.
Even in the joyful throes of gratitude and plenty, you tell me that winter is coming.
Maybe balance is not stillness.
Maybe balance is holding the last rays of summer sun in my hair and the first whispers of frost in my forward-looking eye.
If balance is motion, dance, juggle, then I can begin from balance.
Gratitude and worry,
Light and dark,
Summer and winter.
Here we go.