Today is the Vernal Equinox, and it is a "portal into change."
My wonderful and talented friend Teri Parsley Starnes says that. She says that this time, this night, is a portal between the sleep and the waking time, and it is super-charged by being both the equinox AND a super new moon AND a solar eclipse. All today! Here’s a bit of what she says (much more at her site):
"March 20—New Moon: Dreaming. Solar Eclipse. Vernal Equinox. “Emergence through the portal of change.” That is what I am calling this lunar cycle. The Super Moon Solar Eclipse at the last degree of Pisces is as good a portal into change as any I can think of. Here’s why: Eclipses are good at wiping out old patterns to make way for new ones. The last degree of Pisces is unique, it isn’t just the last degree of a sign, it is the last degree of an entire year (the astrological year begins with the first degree of the next sign, Aries). We really are at the portal of change with a fabulous opportunity to erase old patterns as we move into a new year. What baggage will you leave at the door? What intentions will you pick up on your way through?"
Whew. Sometimes, at the end of the day, being a witch seems like a big lift. Right now, Forest is asleep and am not yet for my bed and I have this in between time, when I can either watch more of Season One of West Wing, or I can do some magic for myself.
Like a good witch would.
I am getting better at noticing this moment and not just sliding into TV. Not when the new House of Cards season was out, but I am a witch, not a superhero. This writing practice helps. And as I write this post, I realize that at this “portal into change,” I want to toss my thread into the reweaving of the world. I want to feel it catch and take hold.
I want it bad enough to do ritual right now. I will resist Aaron Sorkin.
I don’t think too much about this. I don’t even put on my shoes.. Netflix is too dangerous to interrupt my momentum. I step out onto my deck. Outside, the rain immediately soaks through my wool socks, but the air is soft in a way that cold winter air never is. Below me, is the small darkness of my yard with it’s new strawberry patch and the large vine maples that I planted twelve years ago. Beyond my yard, the trees and peaked roofs fade down toward Longfellow Creek and the lights of the harbor.
Doesn’t air feel different at night?
As I reach down and ground, a wind rises slightly, and I remember to let it be easy. Sometimes, I make magic too hard. Like I am straining to connect, where is it, where is it? I have to find it. Too much doing. No. Tonight, as I look out over the black shapes of my neighbor’s Magnolia and Rowan trees and toward the far darkness of the Cascade mountains… tonight I just let the wild that is without me find the wild within. The wind is brushing my skin and I begin to relax, to feel the wind inside me. (If my ex were reading this, he would make a farting joke right now.)
It is not about reaching, it is about letting go until I feel the presence of the wild in my center. It is like there are galaxies inside me. I raise my arms slowly, as if I am near a shy animal. If I focus on it too much, begin to grip it, it will run away... A bright white star shines through a gap in the thin clouds. Is it Venus?
And then I remember the dream that came last night as I fell asleep… I see Forest’s face, so happy and full of his own light.. and I see my lover and I with him, and I am loose and deep and sparking with delight… I see myself working- writing and speaking and teaching and the words flow out of me with a force that is not mine, but is fed by the deep well of the wild.
I try to hold all of this loosely, my arms raised to the night, but be filled with it at the same time. It’s like holding a bubble in my teeth.
If only I were Snoopy.
But I’ve got this… Now I need a portal. And I’m a witch, and I’ve cut a portal in the air dozens of times so I clasp my hands together and point them east toward tomorrow and I draw a pentacle in the air. It is the five-pointed star, the four elements and spirit, held in the circle of life. I draw it and I feel it written, like clear script in the darkness. I open the center and take that bubble in my teeth and I blow it through and then I step through after it and I bow to the night and the wild and the new world that begins now.
Happy Equinox! So mote it be.