Our Autumnal Equinox.

Spring we jumped over flames while miss Klemm played a pan flute. Summer we danced along the esplanade with abandon, chanting our gratitude and longing for summer's sun and its silent promise of a return to warmth. Fall was more somber. Perhaps rightly so. Perhaps different seasons require different ceremonies. And so we found ourselves on summer's dock, sitting in a circle, enclosing a single pumpkin candle. Each person expressed gratitude for one thing: Katie for water cycles, Austin for the great poets, Julia for circles and their inclusiveness, Jared for his ears and the joy of sound, me for kindness and sincerity, others for still more. Next we shared poems, or scriptures, or drawings signifying what autumn means to us. There was a lot of talk about harvests and preparing for winter, but also about returning to the center of ourselves, and handling this transition with solace. Elizabeth made an interesting point that while winter and summer are steady--you look out the window and things look the same from day to day--fall and spring are somewhat transitory. And it is true. We stood at the water's edge with a pistachio in hand. Katie asked us to reflect on our last year, and those aspects we wished to preserve and internalize, as well as those aspects we wished to discard, before we placed the meat portion in our mouth and cast the shell aside. The symbolism was simple, but meaningful. There was still chanting, and even jumping over the solitary flame (just for good measure), but it was quieter, less complex. The chanting grew softer instead of louder, and our leap was not backed by flute.

I am still a little afraid of winter.