Equinox Dancing: The Henge Effect for Perfect Timing
If you've heard of Stonehenge, that magical place where the alignment of sunrise and sunset coalesce with Earth's turning and cycles of change, you may also know of "Chicagohenge" or another "(City)henge." It's a place that celebrates cycles of change with a midpoint celebration. The "Equinox Dance." It's seductive. It's fleeting. It's an invitation to dance.
Autumn Equinox marks a fantastic moment when day and night are found embracing in a dark corner of sunset slipping into moonlight. Day and night are "equal" on this occasion, and everything must be timed just right in order to experience this perfect alignment. Shutterbugs who love to capture the setting sun or the rising moon on Equinox, framed by human-constructed monoliths, move into position at just the proper moment to capture the phenomenon.
The ancients planned their city-scapes and architecture with a cosmic design in mind, reflecting the movement of the spheres, and the perfect alignment of day and night. They loved their heavenly guides and guardians so much that tracking their movements became a mark of their enduring, intertwined relationship. They understood that human journeys and the positions of celestial bodies are completely entangled. When we are in sync with each other and creation, the dance is mesmerizing, elegant. As my Beloved used to say, "There is nothing quite like perfect timing." When we dance, especially.
Change is usually a bit unsettling, disorienting, as we adjust from how things have been to how things are becoming. No wonder we look to the heavens, to the turning of the leaves, to the rising and falling of tides, the waxing and waning of the moon, to all the seasons of change in Nature to help us navigate what seems to be whirling, twirling, or out of our control. When we enter into subtle change daily, noticing, observing, marking the little incremental shifts, the big changes are less shocking, less devastating somehow.
As we're walking with family members, friends, clients, students, or others in our circles, it's good to try to adjust to the other's sense of timing, to say, as the Navi in Avatar, "I see you." Or, as a dance partner might say, "I feel you." I'll go slower to match your pace. I'll wait for you. I'm in sync with you.
It's important to remember that space-time-rhythm (ala Thomas Hubl) varies for each of us. It's so noticeable when driving on a freeway. There's always someone who wants to go faster, sometimes to the peril of everyone else. Or, think of a child just learning to tie shoes. It's awkward. It takes time. It takes patience for the teacher who has practiced and perfected. Or consider the elder person who is struggling physically, or perhaps has cognitive challenges. The pace may seem painfully slow to frenetic, expediency-driven, manic, or generally hyperactive companions. Whose timing needs to recalibrate to the other? Can we meet in the middle, like the Equinox?
As my friend, Bayo Akomolafe likes to say, citing Yoruban wisdom tradition, "Times are urgent. Let's slow down."
In the midst of a change, it's important to check our timing. Many of us move too fast. If we are moving too fast for our dance partner, someone will get hurt. Whether leading or following, we have to read bodily cues that make us aware that the move is imminent. When we tune in acutely, the movement slows; it flows, becoming almost effortless, magical. It's like dancing with someone you know and love so well that you anticipate their movement. And it All. Just. Flows.
The last few weeks, we have been practicing our soft skills for navigating change:
Let go.
Wait until Gratitude rises.
And now we add another:
Timing is everything.
In your interior soulscape, what is shifting, and how does the timing feel? How do Autumn's changes speak to your sense of timing?
Comments