Saturday, March 21, 2009

Vernal Equinox

I spent the early pre-dawn hours yesterday completely alone (in the conventional understanding of that word...no other person within miles) at Serpent Mound, seeding the entire Mound with organic blue corn raised by the Maya in Chiapas, charged with crystal energy like you wouldn't believe! Moon--the last crescent vestige of her current cycle--had risen soon after I left for my trip there, and had drawn me onward over the two hour drive down, gradually changing from dark blood, to deep orange, to cream, to brightest white. Standing on the Serpent hilltop high above a stream--which, itself, loops broadly around the foot of the hill, a doppelganger Serpent--and in the darkness lit only by the slender Moon, I listen as, off somewhere in the far distance, first the roosters announce the approaching dawn, then a few lone birds in the leafless trees, an occasional wolf or coyote lament, a farm dog here and there.

After a full circuit of the quarter-mile-long Serpent, the largest such effige mound in the world, I sit on the bottom step of the viewing tower and await the initial vestige of early light. A scurry in the forest thirty yards to my left ends as a dog comes bounding up the path followed by two smaller companions. They dash past on their way to the empty trash bins at the museum building a few hundred yards away, pretty obviously enjoying a hopeful daily ritual. Less than a minute later, a fourth one comes scrambling up the hillside path, catching up, passing me by as the others had. A moment later, the large one, the leader, standing just visible near the corner of the museum, turns and begins barking at the air between us, but definitely addressing my still-sitting form. I grin a bit, since it is clear that the first three of them had dashed past without sensing me at all, and, not until the runner-up arrives with her privileged message, is the leader informed of this living presence sitting there in the dim dawn. Soon enough, he senses that his message has been received and respected, so the four of them turn, returning to their morning adventure.

One of the unfolding coils of the serpent faces directly to the true East of the rising sun of the Vernal Equinox. So I stand opposite that coil while the sky ever-so-slightly lightens. Soon, soon enough, the Equinox moment arrives and passes. It is now the New Year. For the Persians, and for so many others on Earth.

Yet still another magick awaits me. Within a few minutes following the arrival of Equinox, Sun begins his ascent, rising to his blinding fullness. I become aware of the privilege of this moment. For I realize that nowhere else on Earth, nowhere but for this narrow piece-of-the-pie of Earth's surface, do these moments arrive so close to one another on this day, this particular day: Equinox and Sunrise together. In Persia, for instance, this Equinox arrived when Sun was already beginning its late afternoon descent. So I remain, soaking up this blessing, opening my arms wide, bringing hands together above my crown, at forehead, at lips, at heart, offering the honor due Earth and Sun.

And now, after I finish these remembrances, I open today's Elder Wisdom, finding this not-simply-coincidental posting awaiting me:

Elder's Meditation of the Day - March 21

"The manner with which we walk through life is each man's most important responsibility, and we should remember this with every new sunrise."
~Thomas Yellowtail, CROW

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