Fall Equinox

It arrived—that day when we tip into the half of the year when we experience the least light. For the next three months each day will see a little decrease of sunshine. When I get to this day each year I take a big breath breath, because even though I love much about the seasons, there is a little gloom or sense of dread that seems to accompany the increasing darkness. I’ve felt it for years and at some point I learned it has a name—Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD). Yes, there is football and hot cider, sweaters and boots, the smell of burning wood from fireplaces, and the joy of sitting under a cover with a captivating book. Embracing the opportunity to slow down, rest, reserve energy, and wait like the trees do, can be healing and much needed. But, taking in the season, enjoying its’ gifts—these can’t keep SAD completely at bay.

So, what are we to do? Here are a few things that I try in order to shift my mindset to savoring what is.

• Lighting a candle on a cloudy day or dark evening to give cozy vibes. Even using lamps instead of overhead lights can create a warmer feel.

• Keeping good flavors of hot tea bags on hand for an afternoon treat—think cinnamon something.

• Lighting the pilot light in the fireplace so it’s ready whenever I am.

• Pulling out our favorite soup recipes to begin making the goodness that is homemade soup and chili.

• Admiring beauty where I see it—in the colors and smells, in the strength of bare tree arms stretching up into the sky.

• Exercising. (I’m putting it here so I can remember I mean to do it).

• Extra resting—because of the trees, remember? They lead the way in showing us what to do.

• Wait. Have patience. Wait a little more.

And come late December, we will begin working our way back out of the dark. When we arrive again at Spring solstice in March, we enter the half of the year with the most light. I take a deep breath then, too, an embodiment of relief and anticipation. When I get there, I hope I can look back on the last six months with a sense of satisfaction and contentment that the time was used intentionally and well. May you also journey through these months in meaningful ways, arriving at Spring with gratitude and perhaps a little more rested.

We’re not there yet though.

Maybe I’ll pass you in the candle or tea bag aisles of the store or at the vaccination clinic over the next few weeks as we ready ourselves.

For autumn and winter—peace, rest, and blessing.