26. An Autumn Invocation
Anointing the seasons threshold with seeds, poems and prayers
Hello dearest reader,
Happy Sunday and happy Autumn Equinox. I hope you are having a beautiful weekend and are enjoying the fresh, mercurial weather that is so evocative of this transitional point in the years turning.
I confess that I am bewitched by this beautiful tipping point when light and dark present themselves in equal measure; summer fading into the slow bloom of autumn’s golden breast. An enormous change that comes on in tiny, fragmentary waves. A change that is betrayed first by the yellowing leaves, and by the way the light filters through the windowpane and falls upon the floor. The mornings are fresh, hopeful and pregnant with secrets, and I am smitten by the song of the returning robin, the intermittent showers of rain, and by the limbs of the rose shaking in the wind, anointed with glowing red hips.
At this fleeting moment everything appears to be making the very first descent, releasing back down towards the earth and returning to the inner chamber. We too are preparing to turn once more towards the interior world.
I hope you are enjoying this shift too. Autumn has such a uniquely contemplative atmosphere, and I am incredibly excited to feel its return in the air. It is a time to allow ourselves to be moved, awed, and enamoured by the changing landscape, for to take the time to stop and notice the shifts of the Earth is to be bathed in a profound sense of being held: everything will soon grow darker, but we are provided with all that we need to embrace the change.
I would like to herald this turning point with a small invocation for the season and a love letter to the coming Autumn. I have poems, prayers and harvest offerings to share with you today.
Sending warm wishes and equinox blessings,
Anna Margarita
x
This is the beginning of root energy, bringing rest and renewal in the dark. This is the chance for us all to go within and and re-enter the dark womb of the spiritual world, which provides a strong foundation for our lives. It is an opportunity to explore and understand ourselves.
— Glennie Kindred, The Earths Cycle of Celebration
Don’t you imagine the leaves dream now
how comfortable it will be to touch
the earth instead of the
nothingness of the air and the endless
freshets of wind? — Mary Oliver, from Song for Autumn
An Autumn Invocation
The fine, intricately woven carpet of abundance has been rolled out, tread, worked, danced upon, all through the green and golden months. Now summer’s splendour begins to fade. Long, beckoning days and the wide and ambling light bleed into memory. In their place come days of harvest and farewell. Calling goodbye to warm soil and fleshy shoots. To the damp and sweet sweat of an afternoons walk. To your body washed in golden light.
Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye, we sing.
The present day is one of bounty, and hands are busy hauling in the Earth booty. The leaves slowly begin to turn, the hedgerows are full of fruits, and you remember the colours, tastes, and sounds of autumn. At this moment the world is like a flame at the threshold of your doorstep. A flame slowly extinguished by the swell of cool winds.
Do not be mistaken: this is not an ending ad infinitum, but simply the turning of a page to a new place in the story. A point that is both exit and arrival, and in this way, a place of balance. Here you witness the slow curling of a golden dusk earlier in the evening. Up above, a quiet, sort of melancholic shade of blue is amplified, dappled with clouds. Some of the clouds are white; some are grey and bring stop-start fragments of rain.
A directional change. An unchartered path away from the light. Away from the green and blue of hill tramping and field wandering, and from the clamour of friends and voices and song in the white-gold summer air.
Here is a place of whispering. Secrets leaving traces in the cool morning dew and the yellowing of the leaves. Signs of what is to come. Tiny prayers falling from the sky: green and shiny acorns, helicopter seeds and hawthorn berries.
Up in the boughs of the trees there is talk of Dreamtime carried on the skirts of the wind. The quivering chorus of leaves sounds different now — dry and papery. Bringing messages in coarsely textured lyric and breeze-song.
Under the arbour between summer and autumn you walk with intention and resolve, passing between light and darkness. You do not come alone: you bring the food, the sustenance, the quieter way, the secrets you captured in the wind. Down into the burrow, armed with seeds that wish to sink down into stillness. New parts of yourself that long to germinate and take hold.
Dark, deep down, and wet in the Earth you go. Trusting that you have everything you could possibly need.
Taking stock: rituals and pledges for the waning light
For our ancestors, and for those of us who continue to grow and forage food, the Autumn Equinox signals, very literally, a time of taking stock. Hauling in that which has been growing, assessing wins and losses, and creating stores for the approaching cold.
Potatoes, apples and squash are cleaned and closed away into cool, dark corners. Technicolour summer vegetables are pickled and shelved. Herbs are fastened and dried in bunches. Hedgerows and fruiting trees are raided, their sweet gifts processed into jams, and prepared for the freezer. Look outside and you will see that the little creatures are also beginning to prepare their food stores, too: field mice can be spotted darting through the long grass with their cheeks full of berries, and squirrels bustle around the forest floor, scurrying off to a hidey-hole with acorns in tow.
However, this is not only a time to prepare our stores and enjoy the bounties of wild and cultivated foods. There are many different ways that we can all lean into this process of taking stock, materially and emotionally. Here are just a few ideas of how you may mark this transitional point —
The darkness may be approaching, but this is not yet time to rest and retreat. At this moment, the body still has ample stores of energy to exert before the stillness of winter. So enjoy movement, taking long walks, stretching, breathing and continuing to shift lingering energy.
The long, dark afternoons and evenings to come will provide much space for us to turn inwards and focus our energies on our homes, our hearts, our hands and the gardens of our minds. Take this opportunity to enjoy the process of pausing and contemplating this new direction, considering which seeds you would like to plant and nurture throughout the quieter months. Ask yourself: how do I picture spending this time, and where would I like to direct my energies?
As well as shifting energy in our bodies, this is also the perfect time to clear out the neglected corners of our homes. Spend a rainy afternoon decluttering cupboards and drawers, letting go of anything that you do not wish to carry with you into the season to come, creating space for new roots to form.
Plant bulbs as pledges of hope and trust for the growth still to come. As you push each bulb into the soil, anoint it with a hope or prayer for the coming months. If your bulbs are indoors, make sure to keep the soil moist over the wintertime. Trust the slow and quiet work that is happening just beneath the surface, out of sight.
Walk, walk, walk, and do not stop walking. Walk as often as you can, come rain or shine. As you do so, make note of every small shift that presents itself to you. Notice the subtle change in the temperature and quality of the air. Look up above you to a changing sky, see the canopy of the Earth transforming.
Ah so very beautiful ❤️