Find the Balance
Libra // two wings of the same bird
I took my first dark-walk of the fall last night. The air was damp, the street lights cast an eerie glow onto piles of dry leaves and fragrant pine needles. And my heart said, Finally. It’s finally time for candlelight and soup and dusky walks. Hope you’re finding autumnal blessings where you are today.
A few weeks ago I went to the lake to say goodbye to Summer. It’s a ritual I started back in lockdown when I first began exploring the cross-quarter days of the wheel. August 1st is considered the first harvest of the year and was historically honored by climbing a hill to survey the land, both for practical reasons (How are things growing? When and where should we harvest next?) but also with gratitude. In my imagination I’m sure this was followed by bonfires and feasting and joyous mayhem.
I live in a pretty flat place with very few hills, but there is one man-made hill near the Lake I love which I’ve taken to visiting at this time of year. I pick a few weeds & wildflowers as I walk to the top, I listen to the birds and noisy insects. And then I walk down to the lake and bury my small bouquet in the sand as an offering to the spirits of the land - the gulls and bumblebees and marsh grasses. And of course, the Lake.
We are in the mutable in-between time of summer and autumn. Carefree days and start-of-school energy mingle together. Warm, sunny days taper into cool, damp nights as the days grow shorter. I haven’t made soup yet, but we have enjoyed several pumpkin-spiced desserts already and my hot cup of morning coffee is more enjoyable with each passing chilly morning.
The card for Libra season is Justice. Traditional decks depict Lady Justice with scales in one hand and a sword in the other. Libra is an air sign and the element of air is often depicted with swords. Yet, some decks only have the scales which speaks to my heart and my desire for balance in *these times*. My desire for less upheaval and more equilibrium. My desire for the world to be set right.
Sometimes I wonder if I’m writing the same essay1 over and over again just with different seasonal wrappings. The world is scary, how do I find balance and peace? I guess if this is my schtick, so be it.
The world is scary right now. It’s chaotic and unpredictable. Wildly uncertain2. I can look at the sunrise casting a golden glow over my little hill and weep from the beauty of it - the literal treasure of it. And I can read a headline about the devastation in Gaza and fall to my knees in horror. I can stand at the Lake and see the shore lined with thick green algae. Choking on human-made run-off that causes the scales to tip an ecosystem out of balance. Storms rage. So does my heart. One wrong sentence, one toxic billboard (Yes, I know Jesus, and he is very disappointed), one more toxic, robot-man-child explaining how women should just… just… just… and I want to burn something down.
But then the October clouds fill the morning sky with such a buoyant, violet cotton-candy show that I want to weep at the beauty of this fragile world.
Or the full moon shines her brilliant face through my living room window in the early morning hours and I feel a little less alone. A little less restless. I just sit in her light, open my clenched hands and greet another day.
Or I see the geese and monarchs and starling on migration. My eyes are drawn to them everywhere these days. On my morning commute I watch their silhouettes sail across those cotton-candy clouds and I feel like I see more clearly. Down here on the earth we are walking through fog and smoke - but high above those winged-ones are doing just fine. They are in a world of their own.
Sometimes in Tarot swords represent clear sight. Vision and leadership. Clear eyes are necessary right now. Clear eyes that are open to the hardest, most unthinkable horrors. If we close our eyes how can we change direction? How can we honor the dead? Is it possible to bless the earth without really looking at what we have done? But the pain needs to be balanced or we will disintegrate in our grief. I read this week that, maybe horror and beauty are two wings of the same Bird. I love the image of a bird, soaring on the winds of change.
On the one hand, I’m wildly uncertain about:
the ability of humans to interrupt violence once we are on a blind rampage
our collective will to stop the runaway train of climate change
the future my children are growing up into
how to love family/neighbors/humans when they are enmeshed in toxic religion
But on the other side of my trepidation is all that makes my heart wildly certain:
there is no such thing as other people’s children
billionaires are why we can’t have nice things
hope is an action, and democracy requires participation
we are earth, loving earth
if you can’t imagine it, you can’t have it3
Last week on my evening walk in the dark I listened to the quiet sounds of the night. Crispy leaves rustling softly on a cool breeze. Late night commuters on the nearby highway heading home to dinners and evening plans. Neighborhood dogs barking - at a raccoon, a shadow? And as I walked between street lamps a dark, silent shadow flew over the road right in front of me. My heart leapt into my throat. Owl! I have never seen one in my neighborhood, only in the deep dark of a city park or the quiet countryside. The owl perched on an oak on the other side of the street where I tried to see it more clearly but night was the perfect invisibility cloak. I only caught another fleeting glimpse as she flew over the rooftops in search of a mouse or mole.
My flight through this mutable season feels much less graceful, my two wings are more clumsy and I am all disheveled feathers and noise. But I take heart that we are kin, the Owl and I. The same fierce drive to survive exists in me. The same inner compass that guides the geese on their journey home, guides me too. The same wisdom that allows starling to fly in a protective, dancing company guides us humans. May we find our balance. May we find our wings.
A JUSTICE LIST// a few things to share that I think connect to the card of the season. It could be books, music, a show or podcast.
Donate to Palestine Children’s Relief Fund
Follow
The White Pages to learn more about organizing, solidarity and to see how good humans are showing up every day for their communities.Read A Collective Bargain by Jane McAlevey to learn about her extensive work with labor unions and how our collective care (and organizing) is the only thing that is going to balance the scales and protect our democracy. It is so good!
Make ART for Justice - like this series of webcomics!
Listen to this podcast episode: How We’ll Save Abortion w/ Jessica Valenti
This song! “You can’t eat money”
Spiral thoughts from this time last year: Into the Unknown
This vlog on the “comfort of certainty” spoke straight to my heart
Toni Morrison
I love your “shtick” — your writing never fails to move and inspire me!
Um if you're writing the same essay over and over, I still want to read all of them! The way you connect nature, ritual, and spirituality never fails to inspire me.