Equinox Rocks!

For artsies like me, autumn is a state of mind—a point in time when I suddenly have the urge to take a drive in the country and stop at a roadside stand for apple cider.

Autumn leaves, photo by Takeshi Kuboki

For geeks like my husband, autumn begins precisely when the sun crosses the celestial equator—which this year occurs at 4:21 am on September 23^rd. There are pie charts and graphs and equations to warm the heart of any geek. But I prefer to celebrate autumn with pumpkin pie, and plenty of whipped cream, thank you.

In terms of mythology, we are leaving the season of the sun and entering the season of the moon—since in the winter season, the nights are longer and the moon spends more time in the sky.

Ancient Britons built Stonehenge to mark the occurrence of equinoxes and solstices.

Attrib: Wigulf~commonswiki

Ancient Mayans built a pyramid at Chichén Itzá to mark these astronomical events. At the autumn equinox, seven triangles became visible on the pyramid's staircase.

Photo: Manuel de Corselas

Examples of early American "equinox markers" include Mystery Hill in Vermont and Serpent Mound in Ohio.

Serpent Mound

The ancient Greeks said that Persephone was returning to the underworld to be with her husband Hades during the winter months. Curse that stupid pomegranate!

Photo: Marie-Lan Nguyan

The Chinese celebrate with a Mid-Autumn Festival. They eat Moon Cakes,  filled with lotus, sesame seeds, a duck egg or dried fruit. Looks delicious, doesn't it!

Photo by Lybil Ber

In Japan, the equinoxes are a time to visit the graves of your ancestors, and clean and decorate the graves.

Photo: Akitoshi Iio

                                

It's amazing that people all over the earth have attached such great significance to celestial events, including the equinoxes. And it's amazing that after all these gazillions of circles around the sun, the heavens still run like clockwork, sending each season in its turn.

The Creation of the Sun and Moon, Michelangelo

We plough the fields, and scatter the good seed on the land;

But it is fed and watered by God's almighty hand:

He sends the snow in winter, the warmth to swell the grain,

The breezes and the sunshine, and soft refreshing rain.

All good gifts around us

Are sent from heaven above,

Then thank the Lord, O thank the Lord

For all His love.

The Harvesters, Brueghel

The Seasons Tell a Story

According to Science, fall begins in the Northern Hemisphere on September 22, at 10:49 A.M. EDT. 

Seriously.  Not at 11:00 o'clock or even 10:50, but at 10:49 precisely.   

Everyone’s entitled to their opinion, of course—even Science. But I think that autumn is a state of mind. It begins when I get the urge to whip up a pot of chili. Or to sip a mug of apple cider. Or maybe it starts the first morning I see Orion, or when the first clump of yellow leaves appears on the old maple tree. 

Fall has a kind of wistfulness that suddenly overtakes me, and I feel like writing a poem or going for a drive with no destination in mind. The beginning of fall, for me, is impossible to predict. It just happens.

I have a friend who says that fall begins the first day you hear an airplane fly overhead and suddenly realize that the sound is no longer muffled by humidity in the air. I love that bit of folk weather-lore, although I’m pretty sure Science would tap its foot and scowl.

Science does that sometimes. For Science has its seasons, and the heart has its own.

The changing seasons are endlessly fascinating to me—partly because they tell a story. In fact, they tell the story at the heart of all myth, the story of the hero’s journey.

Every hero must set out on a journey (symbolically in spring) and face dangers/perils (summer). And finally he must confront the ultimate test. He must face death (winter). And in some sense, he must die, but then go through a resurrection into a new life.

Sometimes the hero faces his worst fear and, against all odds, emerges victorious. (Yay!) Sometimes he dies to his old self or mindset, but emerges with a changed heart. (Hmmmm.) Sometimes he actually dies (Boo!), but he lives on in his work/dream/beloved. (Ahhhhh.) But at its core, the mythic journey is about facing death.

In the seasons we have the seeming death of nature, as autumn leaves fall and many animals migrate or hibernate and the earth is buried beneath a silent shroud of snow. I can’t help but feel a sense of dread as winter approaches, even though I know the story well, and I know that spring will come again.

According to Science, the seasons are a random byproduct of the earth getting knocked a little crooked—so that the axis of rotation isn’t perpendicular to the plane of revolution around the sun. Yeah, whatever.

But I think the seasons are a message to the people of this planet. “Hang in there. No matter how dark or cold or gray your world may become, there will always be a spring. Never be afraid to hope. Never give up.”

We are the travelers on this journey, heroes in the making, facing our fears--not always by choice. And on this journey, we have only our friends, our faith, and messages of hope. Some of these messages were written on clay tablets by the ancients, some by a blogger in Indiana only yesterday. Some were written as fiction, some as poems. And some were written into the fabric of the universe.

I love Science. Our friendship goes back to my childhood. But sometimes Science and I just have to give each other some space. 

So Science can hang around the lab and wait for autumn, while I go on a hayride or start shopping for the perfect pumpkin. Because I know fall is already here.

Persephone

In a famous Greek myth, the fair maiden Persephone was gathering wildflowers one fine day--tra la, tra lee--when suddenly, the earth erupted with a thunderous blast. 

And what to her wondering eyes should appear but a miniature sleigh and. . .oops, wrong story.

Up from the deep sprang Hades, god of the underworld. He was driving a sleek chariot drawn by coal-black steeds. Before the maiden could run away, Hades snatched her and carried her off to his dark abode.

Demeter, Persephone’s mother, looked on helplessly as her daughter was taken away. The very earth seemed to grieve this loss, as cold winds blew and the earth turned barren and brown. 

Hades and Persephone in the Underworld

Demeter wandered the wide world searching for her child, but Persephone was nowhere to be found. At last the grieving mother climbed Mt. Olympus and pleaded with Zeus—king of the gods and, as it happened, father of Persephone.

Zeus sent his errand boy, Hermes, to bring the girl back to the Land of Light. But before Persephone left, Hades insisted that she eat something before the journey, and he held out a juicy red pomegranate.

Demeter greets Persephone

Everyone rejoiced when Hermes brought Persephone back to the outer world. Even the trees budded and the birds trilled. Her father and mother came running to greet her.

Demeter threw her arms around Persephone. “At last you are back where you belong, here in the sunlit fields, here with those who love you.”

But Zeus looked troubled. “No, something isn’t right. She has tasted the fruit of the underworld, and she belongs to that world now.” 

Persephone could taste the pomegranate on her lips. Hades had tricked her.

Demeter cried bitterly. “You can’t send her back.”

Finally, Zeus made a decision. For six months of the year Persephone would live above ground, and for six months, below with Hades. And so this tale is said to explain the seasons of the earth.

SUMMER

I used to start dreading winter sometime in August. when the afternoon sun turned the soybean fields to gold, in a prelude to autumn. But when winter came, it really wasn't so dreadful after all. There's nothing quite like sipping hot cocoa while a beautiful snow scene fills the picture window.

AUTUMN

Those of us who live in a climate of four seasons can learn something from this mythological character. What happened to Persephone was unwanted and unfair. But Persephone, who went to the underworld a frightened child, returned as a confidant queen—a queen for all seasons.

Every season has its beauties and its blessings. As the psalmist Asaph sang,

It was you who set all the boundaries of the earth;

you made both summer and winter.  -- PS 74:17

WINTER

And a great hymn proclaims, “Summer and winter, and springtime and harvest” all attest to the faithfulness, mercy, and love of our God. 

We--children of the High King of Heaven--were created to reign in every season of life.

SPRING